#like....i can stay up late and get up later pero do i want to?? just for notes on tumblr?? hmm

[hoedameron]

seriously considering dl this shitty quality trrent just so i can make gifs bc i have the perfect caption

[pablitogavii]

Please new story 🙏🏻

Ojos de su papá

For those that loved dad!Gavi <3

You've had one of the most trying days at the clinic where you work as a doctor so you couldn't wait to get home to get some rest.

The moment you entered the house, you heard Matteo's loud cries and your head started pouding immediately. Looking at your watch, you knew it was his bottle time.

Pablo was in the living room with the little boy in his arms trying to pack for his evening training while telling him how "mami will be home soon" which you found so adorable.

"Aii que pasa precioso mio? Papi forgot your bottle?" you say walking to them but Pablo showed you three different bottles on the table that he tried to use to feed the little boy.

"He only let's you do it, amor..he loves you more" Pablo said while pouting and you giggled shaking your head and taking the little boy in your arms as he started to calm down.

"It's normal Pablito..he's used to me breastfeeding him but he loves you just as much. He's a mini version of his papi, right Matteo?" you say and Pablo looks at the little boy in your arms immediately opening his mouth as you brought one of the bottles to his lips.

"Go get ready for training while I feed him cariño" you say but Pablo noticed the way your temples were scrunched and he wanted to know what made you feel bad.

"Amor, if you're tired I can just cancel training and then double up tomorrow..or after the game?" he said touching your hand and you smiled that he was always so careful and gentle with you. always makes you his priority.

"It's okay, mi amor te lo juro. I just had a long day but me and Matteo will eat something and get some sleep, right precioso mio?" you said kissing the little boys forehead while he sucked diligently on the bottle.

"Tan bien. I will be right back, just to grab my shoes" Pablo said leaving to the closet as you sat down letting your muscles relax while looking at the little hungry boy in your arms.

His big brown eyes are looking at you softly while he sucked on the bottle that it made your heart melt. Those same eyes that Pablo had when he looked at you with love for the very first time now has your son..and it was a beautiful feeling.

"Mis ojitos morenos lindos..tienes ojos de su papá mi amor.." you said gently to your son not knowing that Pablo was there listening and blushing profusely.

Ever since you had a baby, everyone said he was a mini version of Pablo and it made your husband both timid and proud. Having a son with a woman he loves so much and hearing her call their shared eyes beautiful made his whole body shiver.

"Bien. Pablo you will be late if you don't leave now!" you finished feeding Matteo and reminded your husband who was lost in thoughts walking towards you on the couch and laying his own head on the free spot on your lap.

"Amor, pero I want to stay with the two of you tonight.." Pablo said giving you his infamous puppy dog eyes that Matteo will surely learn to use later on you as well.

"Stop using your eyes to get everything you want Pablo!' you said softening when his eyes became bigger as the pout found itsway to his face.

"But you let Matteo do it!" Pablo was complains like a baby and you giggled looking at your son which has an identical look on his face. Damn it the two of them and their pretty eyes!

"But he's a baby Pablo" you say and Pablo nuzzled his face into your neck.

"Well, aren't I still your baby amor?" he asked and you sighed knowing where this is going.

"Si, you're both my babies" you answered and he smiled looking up at you again this time pecking your lips gently.

"And you said we have the same eyes, no?" he added making you smiled and nod your head.

"Then we can both use them to make you say si, amor" he giggled leaning in closer to Matteo so both of them could look at you with their same dark brown eyes.

"Bueno..si! But..make sure to tell Xavi you were not feeling well, bueno?" you say and Pablo cheered kissing your lips while Matteo giggled making you both smile. He was happy his papi is staying tonight too.

"Te lo prometo!" he said kissing your lips before sitting up and pulling you in his arms while Matteo started napping in yours.

"He might have mis ojos, amor..but he has your cute little nose" Pablo said making you blush and look at the perfect little boy sleeping in your arms.

[brewsterispunkk]

marriage of convenience part 4

pairing: pero tovar x fem!reader

WC: 1.6k (guys this is so short im sorry)

warnings: pero being an ass, mentions of familial abuse

a/n: life has been CRAZY lately so heres a filler chapter before it really heats up. i’m determined to finish by the end of the summer!!! p.s. see if you can find the pride and prejudice reference hehe

- - -

He found you again as you washed the dishes after dinner. You hadn’t even noticed him there until two hands on your shoulders made you start. 

You gasped turning from the wash basin in front of you, eyes stormy. You were annoyed at being pulled away from your work—you were sore, tired, and emotionally exhausted from the day. You were grappling with the reality of the loss of one of your only freedoms, coupled with the fact that you’d now have a near constant escort. The last thing you wanted to do was have a conversation with him.

“What?” You glared up at Tovar, who merely looked down at you with the same surly expression. “Have you found some problem with my washing the dishes?”

He frowned down at you, before meeting your eyes. You looked at him expectantly. 

Wordlessly, he grabbed your wrist in a much lighter grip than earlier when you’d cut his hair. 

You froze as his fingers gripped your arm in a featherlight grip. 

You had rolled up your otherwise long sleeves, leaving the purple and green of your wrists for him to see. 

“Who?” He asked gruffly, voice low and so quiet you could barely hear it. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, incredulous. 

“What do you care?” You snatched your wrist to your chest. 

He furrowed his eyebrows angrily, opening his mouth to respond, before the banging open of the front door caused you to jump.

There, stumbling through the door, was Petyr, drunk already, even before the sun had set. 

You froze, eyes widening as he kicked off his boots. Instinctively, you backed away from Tovar, your back hitting the basin of water you used to wash the dishes. 

“Mm-hello there,” Petyr mumbled, eyes raking over you before moving to Tovar. He smirked before turning to the hearth where your mother was sat mending. “Hello mother.” 

“Hello dear,” you heard your mother’s muffled voice reply. 

You let yourself deflate, finally, the fear and adrenaline calming. 

You let out a shaky breath, looking up to meet Tovar’s dark eyes, narrowed at you. You found understanding.

“Him?” He asked, sounding almost angry. 

Your defeated eyes lifted to his and he nodded, before taking a step back. 

“You will not walk with him. I will escort you.” 

He barely let you get in a word edgewise before he stalked off, leaving you to wonder what the hell had just happened.

- - 

Two days later, the two of you set off to town bright and early. 

You’d discovered from William that while he would stay and help your father with his carpentry, Tovar had found work at the blacksmith’s in the square. Apparently, he had experience from before he was a sellsword. 

Not that you would know, though. He had barely spoken a word to you since your encounter after dinner. 

Now, you walked down the wooded road side by side, in complete silence save for the chirping of the birds and the occasional rustle of a rabbit in the lush bushes. 

You gripped your basket filled with your mother’s herbs tightly, clearing your throat.

“So,” you began, tired of the stifling silence. “You’re from…Aragon?”

You’d heard tell of the rich kingdoms to the South. You’d interacted with enough travelers to know a little about them, but you’d always longed to see them yourself–hearing about their rich culture and architecture. 

Tovar only grumbled, before begrudgingly answering. 

“Castille.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly. You’d heard of Castille and its rolling hills and dry summers, but you’d never met someone from there. 

Some more time passed before you spoke up again. 

“What’s it like there?”

“Hot.”

You scoffed. 

“Okay, fine.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” you picked up your pace, walking ahead of him. 

You scoffed to yourself. You should have known better. Of course he wouldn’t want to make actual pleasant conversation with you. He was a rake and a grump besides. 

“Slow down,” he called, obviously trying to catch up with you. 

“Keep up,” you flung over your shoulder. 

“Why are you so stubborn?” He raised his voice, causing you to stop in your tracks. You whipped around, finding him standing still with his hands on his hips in the middle of the road. 

“Why are you so unpleasant?” You began a slow walk toward him. “I am merely trying to make conversation and you rebuff me at every chance.”

He rolled his eyes at you and you snorted. 

“You are acting like a child.”

“You are the one who pouts like a toddler every second of the day.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. 

“I was not asked to make conversation with a spoiled brat. I was asked to accompany you to and from the village. That is what I am doing. And you are getting in the way of my job.”

You scoffed and turned on your foot, beginning to walk away from him.

You’d had enough; you didn’t need to wait for him. You didn’t even need an escort. He could catch up if he wanted to, or he couldn’t. The choice was up to him. 

You heard his annoyed huff as he struggled to keep up with you.

- - - You ran into Lisbeth, blessedly, at the market after Pero stalked away from you toward the blacksmith’s shop. You glared at him as he left. 

God, you hated him. 

“What’s that look for?” Lisbeth asked as she took your arm, her long auburn hair plaited away from her face. You tore your eyes away from the sellsword who had soured your mood.

“Nothing,” you grumbled. “It’s only him.”

“Hm,” Lisbeth hummed conspiratorially. “He isn’t nearly as roguish or scary as you described. He’s rather...”

“If you say handsome, Lisbeth, I will lose my breakfast.”

She laughed. 

“Well,” she leaned into you. “He is. He’s handsome, if you can get past the scar.”

You didn’t even mind the scar, truth be told. And she was right: he was handsome. But his attitude took away from whatever attraction you may have had for him. 

You sighed.

 “Yes, I suppose he would be somewhat comely if it weren’t for his horrid temperament.”

“He’s as surly as he looks, I take it?”

“More.”

Lisbeth tutted. 

“That is too bad,” she sighed. “My father wants me married by autumn. I was hoping we could be wed together.”

You threw your head back and laughed at that.

 “He is the last man I could be prevailed upon to marry,” you laughed. “Besides, your father has said that every year since we were fifteen.”

“He is serious this time.” She was wistful as she said it.

 “And you do not wish to?”

“It isn’t that,” she stops to inspect some vegetables at  an old woman’s stall. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be a mother. It’s only… I worry who he will match me with.”

You sigh and squeeze her arm. 

“Your father is kind. And wise. You are his only daughter. He will choose well. You will be happy.”

“I hope you’re right,” she smiled, before handing the old woman some coins for her pick of carrots and lettuce. “What of your father? How does he fare?”

You felt your stomach drop.

“Not well,” you sighed. “He is bedridden again.”

The strange illness that plagued your father had reared its ugly head again. He’d been steadily declining for years, but it had taken a turn for the worse in the past week. You could tell your mother was getting worried this time, preparing. It scared you. The thought of a world without your father was unbearable, not just because of what he meant to you, but because that meant that Petyr would be the man of the house. 

You shivered at the thought. 

You ignored Lisbeth’s pitying look and shook your head.

 “Come,” you said. “I must fetch herbs for his medicine.” - -

You didn’t talk on the walk back. He didn’t try, and you were  glad for it; you would’ve refused to reply if he did. 

You were still angry from this morning; about the way he huffed and grunted and refused to even dignify you with a response. 

Pompous ass, you thought as you started down the trail. 

You could hear him lumbering around gracelessly behind you. 

You hadn’t spoken a word since he’d left you in the square this morning to work at the Blacksmith’s. When he returned, he was sweaty and coal-lined, his hands rough and dirty. You ignored the pointed look Lisbeth gave you when she’d caught you staring. 

You were weighed down with your wares—you had a basket of parsnips that you’d traded with a fisherman’s wide in exchange for a tonic that eased headaches, some thyme you’d traded with a traveler for, a fresh loaf of bread your mother bade you buy, and a small flagon of cider from last harvest fastened over your shoulder with a leather strap. Your mother had also bade you retrieve that, though you weren’t sure what for. You hoped that Petyr wouldn’t get his hands on it. 

You huffed, your shoulder aching with the weight of the flagon bearing down on it. You weren’t used to carrying such weight for long distances, and the summer heat was stifling. 

You dreaded the two mile walk home. 

Pero scoffed at you, coming to stride beside you from where he had been sulking behind. Wordlessly, he grabbed the leather strap and slid the flagon from your shoulder, before heaving it onto his with a grunt. 

You ignored the flash of heat that sound sent through you. 

“That is entirely unnecessary—”

“Are you always this stubborn?” He glared down at you. 

His dark eyes, one lidded with that scar, met yours and you swore you felt the heat of the late summer afternoon increase by tenfold. Your cheeks heated.

You were the one to break the stare, scoffing. 

“Fine,” you said, walking ahead. “But don’t complain to me when your shoulder hurts.”

[shadowi8]

Before I forget this cause I'm a disaster

Being thinking of Haruka (20ish Haruka) with grandma Nanase. LIKE Haruka taking her gently by the arm through the hallways of the Olympic pool, talking so tenderly, so calm, until they arrive to her seat.

Haruka is like: Are you sure you're going to be okay?

And her, seating besides idk Asahi: Oh, sure. Don't worry, this handsome man would take care of me right?

Asahi is OF COURSE COUNT ON ME 😎

And grandma is having a good time with Asahi cause Asahi, he is a sunshine for the love of God. Love him. Probably mom and dad would be there later, you know, but this is about HER.

And and and then jdkdkdjs when Haruka wins, right, and when he is given his medal, grandma stands up even tho it's getting pretty hard for her to do so lately, and looks at him with so much love and proud like sjdksks MOVE MAKOTO, GRANDMA IS HARUKA'S BIGGEST FAN IDC, and claps.

Grandma congratulates him when they meet (grandma is going to get back to the hotel cause she is older by now and her body is not like before, in it's golden years) and Haruka puts the medal around her neck

After commenting that it's heavy and after looking at the design, grandma looks at Haruka and even tho she has to look up at him, she still sees a little boy who loves water, who is kind, who is intelligent, who is talented, and curious, and such, her little boyyyyyyy.

Grandma, caressing Haruka's cheek while he is hunched over a little for her to reach him: You've really gotten handsome and tall.

Haruka smiles, melancholic and happy, cause he loves her, and she loves him so much, and she was so supportive of him about swimming, about water, about everything that she just had to be there, but of course, Haruka knows that, just like him, she also ages and BOY ITS GOING TO HURT HIM SO BAD WHEN SHE DIES, but anyway, it's not time for that, he assures himself, this is a big moment.

Grandma: We need to celebrate this.

Haruka: Sure. After the races finish, let's go to eat somewhere.

Grandma: Let's do that. Oh, why don't you bring your friends with you?

Haruka: I'll ask them.

Grandma tries to give the medal back but Haruka stops her.

Haruka: Can you keep it for me?

Grandma: Of course.

Haruka all soft because of his grandma I JUST CANTTTTTTTT

When he tells (la puta madre mi mente va más rápido que mis dedos pero en inglés más gente lo va a leer y tengo que compartirlo o woah explotar) grandma that he is going to the Olympics, she is immediately asking when, where, and searching places where to stay, but he's like nooooo, grandmaaaaa, it's a big trip, you're going to get tired, what if something happens, what if you get sick with the airplane or something, noooooooo, but grandma is I'm not missing this important event, no, no, I have to be there, I want to be there.

[archive-of-note]

I posted 246 times in 2022

That's 203 more posts than 2021!

18 posts created (7%)

228 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pettyprocrastination

@monsterlovinghours

@max--phillips

@absurdthirst

@beetlebitchywitch

I tagged 240 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#beetlejuice - 58 posts

#frankie 'catfish' morales - 24 posts

#dieter bravo - 23 posts

#din djarin - 23 posts

#not fic - 20 posts

#jack whiskey daniels - 19 posts

#pero tovar - 18 posts

#ezra (prospect) - 15 posts

#javier peña - 13 posts

#oberyn martell - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 126 characters

#(he smtms hates himself because of his own proclivities. he wants to be *that* for someone. but he doesn’t think it can happen

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Fresh Sourdough and Old Stories.

(I’m not good at this fic naming thing don’t at me)

Pero Tovar x GN! Reader

Rating: Teen, only because reader gets a lil thirsty.

Warning: Food

Notes: @absurdthirst wrote this earlier today, I read it, this happened, then I took a nap.

Fun fact: I only know two things about my great grandad. One, he was from China, and two, when he met my great grandmother he said to her something along the lines of “you’re very fat.” Which from him was a complement. It got lost in cultural translation and her girlfriends threatens to kick his head in.

Writer Wednesday Week 25, @writer-wednesday

Your great grandmother told you the story.

You were young, probably four or five, when she turned off PBS and sat you down with all the solemn seriousness of some great tragedy.

Then she told you a story.

Pero Tovar, a mercenary— you had to ask what that meant— from Spain— you had to ask where that was— helped defeat nameless monsters at the Great Wall.

“The one in China?”

“Yes, sweetheart, that one.”

Something happened to him there, something beyond reason, a miracle or a curse— you asked how a miracle could be a curse— it has kept him alive these near thousand years— you still couldn’t count that high— and no one knows except for your family.

“Why only us?”

She booped your nose, “Because we were the only ones who noticed.”

When you got older, you learned that great grandad was the one who kept the story, but he told grandma before he left for war.

Everyone says he died on the battlefield, even though there were pictures of him back home after it was over.

You didn’t understand what that meant until later, and your heart still sometimes hurts for the man you never met.

For some reason the story stayed with you, even after only hearing it once. It lead to a somewhat obsessive phase with time traveling romances and history, your mother even joking that she didn’t just have you a bit late, but apparently centuries late.

You tried to slow down your rereads of Outlander after that.

Life happened, it stalled, you grew into a person via fits and starts, slowly chipping away at an AA until you suddenly had it but still had no clue what to do with it.

The bakery was supposed to be a pit stop, which insured that it would be anything but.

Grouchy four AM wake ups turned into tolerable ones, turned into excited ones. Your boss said you ran through the kitchen like a hurricane, but one that at least had the decency to pick up after itself.

You’d laugh and only slightly choke on the flour in the air.

Breads became muffins, then tarts, then pies, and occasionally even cakes. All of them simply presented but delicious nonetheless.

And time went on.

“I’m giving you first dibs.”

“First dibs on what?”

See the full post

25 notes - Posted August 17, 2022

#4

We are once again rubbing our gay hands all over Javier Peña, well not all over him, there’s some hand holding though.

Some vulnerability, some realizations, some newly moved boundaries. The upfront crassness of our insert character, along with some admiration for the Adonis belt (amazing name btw) of one Mr. Javier Peña.

READER IS A MAN!!! There is no sex here, and reader gets no real descriptors of any sort but I am stating this plainly up top, because it is a factor in how the whole dynamic works.

Not Beta read and posted at 4:24AM

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You look like shit.”

Javier barely looks up from his files, “Thanks.”

“C’mon, you can’t catch any sicarros if you keel over.” Easily, you walk around his space, collecting papers and closing files, making neat stacks that don’t really have any system of organization.

The fact he doesn’t fight you is evidence enough that he needs to head home.

“Peña, when was the last time you slept?”

This close to him you can see the bags under his glazed eyes.

“When was the last time we fucked?” He has no concern for volume, just blurting out the question without any discretion, and you’re thankful that Steve has someone to drag him home at night.

“You’ve been running on coffee and cigarettes for three days?”

He shrugs, pointing to the opened bottle of whiskey on his desk.

“Adding whiskey to the list doesn’t make it any better.” Walking around you grab his chair and pull it back from his desk.

“Get up, we’re leaving.”

His continued lack of fighting just ratchets up your concern.

———

The taxi ride to the complex is quiet, and you tip the driver extra because he kept his opinions to himself.

“Gracias, buenas noches.”

The driver waves dismissively, more interested in the probably too large stack of bills you threw his way.

“You paid too much.”

Huffing, you begin walking to the complex proper, tugging Javier along.

“Probably, but you work too much.”

He just hums.

The trudge to his apartment is uneventful, but you keep your head low regardless.

“Bad for your back.”

“Hmm?”

You pat yourself down before remembering you handed him his keys, and instead of asking you just shove your hands in his pockets.

“Keeping your head down like that,” he lets out a small grunt as you manhandle him to reach his other pocket, “not good for your back.”

See the full post

29 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#3

Ezra / Reaper!Reader

Not really romance, just a blurb that was rattling in my head the past two days.

The arm removal scene, no real details given.

———

“You aren’t what I was expecting.”

You raise an eyebrow, “What were you expecting?”

He’s pale and sweaty, the infection of his arm is obviously killing him.

“At best? Nothing.”

You nod along, death being a complete absence of all things is a common interpretation.

“And at worst?”

He huffs a laugh, and it sounds like it hurts, “The visage of all those I’ve wronged, a final conscious reminder of my mistakes before I suffer in the sulfurous plane of the damned.”

“You speak a lot for someone fighting a moving, necrotising infection.”

He laughs again, “My mind is loud and crowded, I need to make space for my thoughts somehow.”

You chuckle a bit, taking stock of the tent that doesn’t appear to be his, or at least it didn’t start that way.

“Do you look the same to everyone?”

“Hmm?”

“The face you wear, is it the same for every soul you reap, or do you change your looks to fit the circumstance?”

You shrug, because you really don’t know.

“I look how you need me to.”

He huffs another laugh, this one humorless, “Of course, what better salve then temptation?”

You tilt your head in confusion.

He laughs again, “My life to be taken by a creature so breathtaking.”

It’s an odd descriptor, but not unheard of. You’ve been described as bewitching, attractive, a siren for the damned, the list goes on. Rarely has the sentiment been expressed directly to your face.

“You aren’t dead yet, I’m here just in case.”

He makes a confused noise, eyes closed and head tilted back.

“There’s still some wind in your sails, and Free Will means so few things are certain, you might die here, you might not, there is still time for decisions to be made.”

“What are the decisions of a dying man?”

There is a flicker coming this way, frantic and flaring, bursts that steal your attention before almost vanishing back into the brush.

“Who said the decisions were yours alone?”

The spirit fades, taking a turn that leads it away from this tent.

See the full post

44 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#2

🏳️‍🌈 Queer Pedro Character HCs🏳️‍🌈

Cause I’ve seen sm ppl worried about HC his characters as LGBT+, and I’ve seen sm others be mad about it. So of course I’m rubbing my grubby gay hands all over them.

Javier Peña

Bi(? He has no fucking clue tbh with you)

Def prefers women, but won’t deny (to himself at least, it is the 80s) that sm guys around the embassy have great asses.

He’s an ass man, there are a bunch of shots of him looking at women as they walk by and his eyes are obviously trailing down

Never really considered getting with a guy until he moved out to Columbia.

One male secretary/file clerk, a few too many late nights, BAM! Now he’s getting blowies in the supply closet on the semi-reg.

Eventually curiosity (and the feeling that he’s being a bit of an ass, never really getting the other guy off.) makes him broaden his horizons.

Din Djarin

Ace (is the place with the helpful hardware folks)

Doesn’t really know it’s an option

Just figures that, since he’s like the only one who can leave the Covert, then being hunted by the guild, then looking for Jedi he’s got a lot on his plate! So he thinks it’s just stress blunting his hypothetical libido.

Usually quite neutral regarding sex, it’s a thing ppl do, so what? But has been thankful for the canvas of his flightsuit and the thick armor of his Beskar

Xi’an makes him uncomfortable, they never had any sort of relationship, she just wanted to push his buttons and when there was no obvious reaction, she kept trying to up the ante.

Isn’t looking for romance but open to the possibility, his biggest worry is that he won’t be enough

@scribbledghost has a sweet Ace!Din fic and you should read it

Also very little concept of gender roles, you’d have basically non either if you grew up surrounded by ppl in armor who cared more about number of people you could lay flat like a picnic blanket

“Is that a blaster in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”

*Din pulls out a gun*: it’s a blaster

Pero Tovar

Genuine affection means a lot more to him then he thinks.

Demisexual feels close but not right(? You know what I mean? Like it’s just a lil off, like horseshoes)

Never factored actual care into his plans for the future, he was fully prepared to live the rest of his days fat with a rotating selection of prostitutes coming and going from his lap.

He’s got low self esteem under all that crusty grime and dirt. He didn’t factor actual affection in because he didn’t think he could have it. He’d always assumed he’d just be tolerated.

Had feelings for William for a while, freaked out about that.

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

BI! No I will not be taking questions or criticisms at this time.

Married his high school sweetheart, so he doesn’t rlly consider that he might not be straight until after he joins Statesmen.

It initially leaves him a bit off kilter, cause he’s lived his whole life thinking that’s just what everyone was like?

See the full post

77 notes - Posted March 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So @pettyprocrastination , my beautiful big brained boo. Wrote Extra Whipped Cream shouting “My blorbo now!” The whole time.

Tell me, honestly, that Dieter Bravo doesn’t sound like a stage name, and not just any stage name, but one for a p*rn star. “Dieter” I could probably barely handle on its own, but it’s the “Bravo” that really aims for the kneecaps.

Anyway, @max--phillips cause they’ve posted sm anons that gave me sm ideas. And @oonajaeadira cause her GTTT/PATS series did have sm influence, I think it’s super obvious where.

EXPLICIT!!! [18+] Contains: AFAB!Reader (cl*t/p*ssy/c*nt) but no gendered endearments/nicknames. Masturbation. Oral sex (f+m receiving) MM oral action. Dieter has a tongue piercing, and a Prince Albert. Dieter Bravo does porn and has for a while. Uhh, that’s all I can think of rn, if I miss smth hit me up and I’ll fix it.

Reading Extra Whipped Cream is highly recommended, but I can’t force you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you overreact? Yes, in hindsight you did. But at that moment you let slip that you’d seen him naked before, and the panic made running seem rational.

You’ve done more than just see him naked though.

Heat rises back to your face in shame as your mind decides to playback as many scenes of him as it can. Making you bite your lip as your stomach twists.

It’s some nondescript pool in the backyard of a house in an obviously well-off neighborhood.

The sky is clear and the sun is blinding, the light reflecting off of the small waves in the water caused by the breeze.

A loud splash as he dives in.

He’s all long limbs and tan skin as he swims near the bottom of the pool, a pair of low-hung swim trunks, hiding what you know, is a frankly adorable ass.

The shot changes, giving you a view from the poolside as two large hands come up from beneath the water, plant themselves flat on the pool’s edge, and flex as he pulls himself up and out.

And you know they had to have slowed the footage down just a bit for how long it takes him. How you can see the flex of his arms as he heaves his own weight to the surface, the drops of water coming out of his hair, that second or two where the edge catches onto his waistband giving you an even better view of his happy trail.

Then he’s climbing out and walking out of frame as the title appears on the screen.

Pool Boy Bordello 3: Her Threeway Fantasy

Even the terrible title that usually gets you to at least giggle isn’t breaking the train of thought.

Slowly, he pulls the cock from his mouth. Hollow cheeks telling you he’s damn near trying to suck the thing dry.

His lips release it with a pop, and he gives the tip a teasing peck.

“This all for me?”

He gives the man one more lick, the small metal ball of his tongue piercing appears right at the tip, and you can see the other man’s thighs flex as he presses the steel against the slit.

You whine.

Even though you’re still contemplating curling up in a ditch somewhere to die of embarrassment, you can feel the wetness beginning to pool between your thighs.

You roll over and groan into your pillow.

It couldn’t have been the first time it’s happened? Right?

He’s got a good backlog of films, from trashy “Oh No! I ordered a pizza with extra sausage and it looks like I don’t have enough to pay,” a few, “Please Professor, I’ll do anything to pass this class!” And that one, downright awful “Plumber Porno” where he debuted the Prince Albert.

The memory of his moans alone still make you shake.

But with so many films to his name, you honestly can’t be the first to have recognized him in public.

Yeah, but you’re probably the first one to shout it across a packed café, letting him, and probably a few others, know way more about you than any stranger should.

See the full post

107 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ara-24]

the night you found your way back to me.

earlier that year, i was really going through a rough patch. i've been feeling depressed the past months and acads has just been the ultimate reason for my deteriorating mental health as well as for my poor eating habits because of extreme anxiety on a daily basis. during those days, i can't explain why but you somehow cross my mind from time to time. i've been constantly thinking of where are you now and what have you been up to?

remember that one night late in february? we were both still in college and it was that moment when i realized that it has been a long time since we spoke to each other. kamusta ka na kaya? deep down nararamdaman kong na-miss kita.

after graduating high school, we completely lost touch. kanya-kanyang buhay, kanya-kanyang path na tinahak. even though we were friends on facebook, hindi na rin naman tayo masyadong nakakapag-usap or nakakapag-kamustahan since you were far away from the metro. you decided to go to college in your home town province. i didn't know. i barely see your facebook posts and i even thought it was the end of us, that we'll never get the chance to talk to each other again because we both have moved on to each of our own completely different life than before.

that day, i remember the sky was clear, and you can still feel the breeze of the cold wind although you cnan tell that the weather was already transitioning to summer season. i was with my friends that day and we went to our dear friend's wake. she was one of the few friends that i made when i was still in my freshman year. our circle used to be quite big and that was the only time we got together again as a group of friends. we kind of parted ways na kasi after two years of being in the same block.

after staying there for hours and we already said our goodbyes, we decided to head back to the university together. i was with my current circle of friends when we booked for a grab car. we were all in the car talking about someone when suddenly, my phone lit up and i saw your name on the notification bar. you sent me a message saying: uy kamusta?

a while back, before we decided to head out, i was unconsciously viewing random facebook stories and was just swiping right to left when yours came next and my whole body froze. i was completely surprised that i accidentally viewed your story and worries when i realized that you'll see it. well i thought, i couldn't do anything about it now so i just shrug it off because i thought maybe it wouldn't be something big of a deal to you and that you'll just ignore it. but lo and behold, you messaged me that night and it almost made me want to scream. in my head i was already screaming having no idea of what was happening.

i was completely caught off guard as i wasn't expecting it. it got me very excited yet scared and anxious. the rush of adrenaline came in running into my whole body like fire. i unconsciously said "oh my god" out loud and my friends asked me what happened. i just told them wala lang lol. at that moment, it took me some time before it finally sink in to me and i really just don't know what to say so i just replied: "okay lang hehe" (yes i know, awkward lol).

later that night we were dropped off just outside the campus. it was almost 8 pm and we decided to have dinner around the uni. nagyaya sila kumain sa bandang noval doon sa merong ihawan ng seafood near lopez canteen. sobrang saya lang, tawa lang kami nang tawa noon as if kasama pa namin siya at kumakain with us that night. we ate so much food that we didn't realize how much it cost, can't remember pero ang mahal hahaha. i won't forget that night because it was the last time i got to hang out with my original circle and i think it was the first and the last time i had fun with them. also, it was that night when you found me, again.

it was almost 9 pm when we finished eating. we bid goodbye to each other after that and then went home. i was so tired that i slept right the moment i got home so i didn't get to open and read your replied messages until the next morning when i woke up.

[nobedofroses]

Day 20: Hybristophilia

pairing: Pero Tovar x fem!reader

warnings: some kissing, feeling up, and a bit of grinding, talks of crime (no violence)

words: 1.7k

a/n: hybristophilia is attraction to those who commit crimes lmao. also apparently can’t resist somewhat homesteader timeframe Pero, again it is The Past and that’s all I can say x

Last, Full List, Next

🎃🎃🎃

According to rumor, there was an outlaw in town. Knowing how gossip spread and grew, however, you knew this could mean anything from someone who nicked a few quarts of milk from the market to a murderer. Nothing could be taken for fact when it came to your town. But you were still intrigued. Who was this man, what had he done… and what did he look like? 

You found your answer to the first and last at the tavern that evening. A friend, Jane, who worked there needed a hand because the attached inn was fully booked, and when that happened the tavern was always busy. You assisted by taking the drinks out to tables after Jane had received the orders and poured them. 

One of these took you to the man in question. You could tell it was him because he was sitting at a back table, all alone, whereas everyone else had at least one seat partner and you could recognize almost all of them from your town or ones nearby. Plus, he looked more worldly than any of them. 

He was broad-shouldered, wearing dark, rough, heavy clothes, had dark hair, light brown skin, an aquiline nose, and brown eyes that were highlighted by a scar running right over one of them. When you set down his stein, he glanced up at you, and the momentary warmth in his eyes as he saw you surprised you. But then he looked down to the beer and picked it up and you moved on to another table. 

Forty five minutes later, you were taking him another mug. It was a little less busy now, and you had a moment to say, “hope you enjoy,” and to get a gruff, “thank you,” in return. 

The next time, the place was half-empty, so you took the time to actually start a conversation. 

“I’ve never seen you in here before. Are you just passing through?” while you weren’t at the tavern every night, he didn’t know that, plus you knew it was his first night in town. 

“I am not sure yet. It will depend on the nature of this town,” he told you, looking you over slowly as he spoke. 

The back of your neck heated and you hoped he liked what he saw. You certainly did when you looked at him. After a second you got your courage and replied, “I like to think we’re friendly. I’ve always been told I have a very friendly nature.” 

You gave him a grin and your name, waiting until he introduced himself as Pero Tovar to tell him, “Welcome to town, Mr. Tovar. I hope you stay a while.” 

With that, you left him, hoping you made an impression, and went back to the bar. 

Jane was there and hurried over to you, “What did you say to that man? He hasn’t even looked at his beer, he's been so focused on you!”

You smiled a little but didn’t look up to where he was, “Just welcomed him to town.” 

“Welcome? Don’t you know he’s supposed to be a vicious outlaw?” she asked, shocked. 

“Oh, I don’t trust a word from anyone in this town without some proof. Anyone got a wanted poster?” with her resigned look, you felt vindicated. “Anyway, that so-called outlaw just told me his full name, and that’s not what someone on the run from the law would do. It’s memorable too. Pero Tovar.” 

The corner of Jane’s mouth pulled to the side as she thought, but there was no time for a reply because another little rush of customers were coming up to the counter.

___

By the time you were heading home, it was late, late enough that dawn was just in a few hours. Jane had offered for you to stay with her, but you lived just a three minute walk away, and she finally acquiesced if you let her walk you halfway there. The moonlight was bright enough to see the shadowy shapes of things, and you didn’t come across anyone in the first minute and a half. After giving Jane a quick hug and shooing her back to the inn, you turned and kept up a brisk walk, finding it a bit colder without someone walking beside you. 

Then after about a minute, you could see your front door, but you could also hear someone walking behind you. They were heavy footsteps and they were gaining on you quickly. Unsure of what to do, you kept your head down and picked up the pace to try and reach your front gate, hoping if you closed that it would slow them down enough to get in the door. But then a big hand touched your arm and you gasped as you heard an accented voice say, “Señorita.” 

As you twisted around to the speaker, you let out a sigh of relief. In front of you was Mr. Tovar, holding a money pouch that looked exactly like the one that should have been in your pocket. It must have fallen out when you took your hands out of your pockets to hug Jane. 

He held it out to you and you laughed a little shakily, “Mr. Tovar, you scared me half to death, why didn’t you just call my name?” 

His head tilted to the side and he looked down like he was sheepish. You wondered if it was daytime if you would see a blush. “I did not want to wake up the whole street.” 

You chuckled and nodded, “Well thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it had truly gone missing. Why don’t you come inside for a cup of tea? It’s awful cold out here.” 

There was a moment of hesitation, but then he looked again at your smiling face and nodded, following close behind as you led him to the door. 

Once inside, he looked around at the cold, dark room, with no fire burning, “You… live alone?” 

“Temporarily. My brother just got married, but I have a cousin coming to stay with me in a couple weeks,” you told him as you searched for your flint. Once you found it, you handed it to him along with a knife, “Here Mr. Tovar, would you mind starting the fire while I get my kettle?” 

He did as you said and as you walked away, he told you, “Pero, you may call me Pero please, señorita.”

You smiled to yourself as you filled the kettle with water from one of the covered urns you had on hand. “Alright Pero, then you may call me by my first name as well. You know you are very polite for a supposed outlaw.” 

Pero grunted, “Is that what they say?” 

Nodding as you carried the kettle over, you said, “But no one can quite agree what the charges are.” 

You set the kettle on the hook in your hearth. Pero must have been practiced because the fire was already near roaring. Turning to him, you could see his face much better again, eyes rendered warm by the firelight. 

Smiling again, you reached up and ran your hands over the broad planes of his chest and up towards his shoulders, pushing aside his coat as you did, “Here, let me take your coat, Pero. It’s getting warmer in here already.” 

You weren’t totally sure, but you thought he shivered as you took his coat over to the rack on the wall and hung it, leaning in to breathe in the smell of pine and woodsmoke and man that was lingering on it. Once you got back by his side, the kettle whistled, and you angled your backside towards him as you bent over to retrieve it with your potholder. In a minute, you had a teapot steeping with tea. 

“We’ll have to wait a minute for the tea, it’s too hot to be drinking right now. Take a seat by the fire, won’t you?” you gestured at the cushioned chair closest to the fire, that was without a mate. 

“I am fine. You should sit instead, it is your house,” Pero tried to protest. 

“Nonsense, you are my guest,” you told him as you all but pushed him into the chair. He landed with a grunt and you smiled mischievously, “Now, don’t tell me what the charges are, I want to guess.” 

Pero opened his mouth but closed it again, letting you talk. You smiled wider. 

“Hmmm, maybe theft. But not something ordinary like money. Maybe treasure…” as you talked you removed your wool hair covering and scarf. “Some kind of jewels from a castle. Or, not theft. Possibly kidnapping…” 

Pero watched you closely as you started removing the shawl that had been tightly wrapped around your body. Underneath was the bodice you had on in the tavern, and while he had already seen it, it looked different in the warm light of the fire. Better. 

“A foreign royal, or a rich merchant! Someone you ransomed for a heavy price, to start a new life in a sleepy town like this,” by now, you were unbuttoning your bodice to reveal the corset cover underneath; plain but with a ruffled neckline that had been visible above the bodice. Pero’s eyes followed your hands. “Somewhere that you could hide your past and live in safety, at least until you planned your escape to somewhere you could safely spend your purloined money without raising suspicion.” 

You untied your skirt and let that drop to the floor, then gathered your petticoats in your hands and lifted them up until you could climb up on the chair, straddling Pero’s lap. As you dropped your petticoats so they piled around the two of you, you watched Pero’s face, still in quiet shock about your actions. Taking his hands, you brought them to your waist then wound yours around his neck. 

“Who knows, maybe you’ll find some pretty, willing girl to take with you to live in the lap of luxury,” you said with a smile as you leaned in closer to him and then kissed him. 

Pero kissed you back, eagerly, but then brought a hand to your face and gently pushed you back. 

“But I am not an outlaw. There was a misunderstanding—” 

You cut him off with another quick kiss and reached for his hand, bringing it down to your breast to try and hold his attention there. “Let’s just pretend that you are, anyway.” 

And when you adjusted yourself to be right on top of his hardening cock, Pero couldn’t find a word of protest.

🎃🎃🎃

[wormstacheangel]

some latinenatural for my benefit mostly. read the first two chapter on ao3 aqui

Dean was still wearing a big smile when he finally kicked his boots off at home. It took everything he had to finally let Cas leave his Baby, wanting to keep pulling him in for one final kiss after another. Cas now knows what “Otro Besito.” means. Enough so that every time he heard it, he rolled his eyes, but he always leaned in. Until finally, he closed the car door and promised to text Dean tomorrow.

Cas’s number is now saved under an angel emoji porque Dean es un romantico first and foremost.

“Apenas estas llegando?” Dean looked up to see his Tio sitting on the couch with a novela playing on the tv. “Como te fue?”

“Awesome.” Dean picked up his boots and walked over to kiss the top of his Tio’s head before heading to bed. Ignoring his fake protesting of the affection. “Me voy char un baño.”

They asked about Cassie in the morning, and Dean made up some casual date, a believable one, but told them they were probably better off friends anyways. It made it harder to think of excuses to sneak out at night but working for Victor at night made it easier for Bobby not to question him.

He wished he could tell them about his actual dates. Talk about Cas’s stupid two left feet and his beautiful smile. He wished he could talk about the way Cas looked, eyes squinting and head tilting como un pajarito when Dean spoke more than three words in Spanish. But he loved it so much, and just getting those good morning texts from him made his days so much better.

[Read more under tag <3]

It was Monday again when Dean walked by Cas’s house with the raspados.

“Mi Angelito,” Dean wanted to reach and kiss him, but eyes were still watching him. So instead, he reached down and handed Cas a grocery bag filled with Tupperware. “I brought you a real lunch so you can eat it instead of just some ice.”

Cas had admitted that he came home for his lunch break to see Dean. Giving him no time to have an actual proper lunch, and Dean won’t have any of that. Su hombre va a estar lleno y feliz con su comida.

Cas took the bag in shock before handing it back to Dean. “No, Dean, I can’t take this.”

“I woke up extra early to make it for you y no lo quieres?”

“¡Si te quiero!” Cas reached to touch Dean’s cheek, blue eyes watching Dean’s reaction as he quietly added, “Mucho.”

Dean swallowed hard before taking Cas’s hand and giving it a quick little kiss before letting it fall. “Cas, cariño, I was talking about the food. I said ‘no lo quieres’ not ‘no me quieres’. Do you hear the difference?”

“Oh.” Cas stepped back and looked at the plastic bag in his hand. “Then I um-thank you.”

Dean chuckled, stepping forward to wrap Cas in his arms for a quick squeeze. “Ay, pendejo.”

“Dean!” Dean could picture the roll of the eyes without even looking at Cas. He tried to hold in his laughter as he pulled away just a little, just enough, so their faces stayed inches away.

He raised an eyebrow at Cas as he asked, “What? Ya no me quieres?”

Dean could see Cas’s wheels turning in his mind as he mouths the words Dean just said to him. The blush on his cheeks growing as the realization hits him. “Me. You said-yes! I mean, si! I mean, yes or whatever!”

Dean was sure Cas had no idea what he was saying. It’s not like he said amo. No, Cas said quiero. It was the less intense version of ammo, but still,l it relatively meant the same thing, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready to repeat it.

“Quiero un beso.” Dean says instead, wanting to rest his forehead down on Cas’s but restrains himself. The hug was already pushing it out in public.

“Dean, my brother is home.” Cas looked at the house behind him before looking back at Dean, eyes sad, but Dean only smiled back at him. His hand reaches to pinch Cas’s cheek gently while he winks at him.

Te quiero. Es lo que quiere decir pero ahorita no es el momento. It’s too early for that. Ahorita, Dean está feliz nomás en tenerlo. No tiene que decir nada. No tiene que decirle a nadie que se está enamorando muy rápido de un güero con ojos más azules que el cielo. Más brillosos que una estrella. Más hondos que el mar.

No. Dean didn’t have to tell anyone que se está enamorado de los pies a la cabeza. It’s fine.

Dean lifts his hat enough to scratch his sweaty hair before he jumps back on his bike. “Pick you up later then?”

Cas nods as he holds the grocery bag tight in his right hand before lamely waving at Dean with his left.

Dean leaves with a loud ring of his bells.

A month of sneaking around goes by with Dean asking Victor to tell Bobby he was working for him during his date nights. It was obvious Victor knew, but Dean was way too scared to confirm it. Either way, Victor agreed to help him sneak around and didn’t push for details.

Though he always eyed Cas like a challenge whenever he came around, Cas never seemed to notice as he was caught up rereading the same menu he has been looking at for weeks.

It was a Thursday night that Cas called to ask, “So what are we?”

Dean was in the middle of mopping the bathroom stalls in the office building, with Bobby doing a different one on the same floor. Sam was somewhere throwing away the trash from the offices while a few other folks that worked for his Tio cleaned up whatever they had to do. The only sounds in the offices were vacuums and music coming from someone’s speaker.

“Cas, I’m kinda busy working right now.”

“You said I could call Thursday nights cause you get bored.” Fuck. He did say that. “Unless you don’t wanna answer.”

“It’s just…no es algo-”

“English, Dean. I can’t read your expressions over the phone.” Oh, so that’s how he catches on.

“Exactly! It’s not something to discuss over the phone. We can go out tomorrow and talk about it.”

Cas didn’t say anything but Dean could hear him moving some stuff around.

“Cas?” Dean pushed the mop bucket out of the bathroom as he finished. Trying not to think about how here Dean was, working late as a janitor while Cas was staying late at his fancy corporate job. Fuck, si piensa mucho en eso se va a volver loco. “Cariño? Andale Angelito, don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then talk to me.” Dean hears Cas make a loud and tired sigh. “Mira, que suspiro!” He teased.

“Dean, I don’t know-Ah! Fuck!” Dean hears Cas’s phone fall against something hard. Dean’s heart raced, not knowing what to do.

“Cas? Castiel!” Dean calls to his phone, already abandoning his bucket to start jogging to the door to drive wherever Cas was, even though he didn’t know where that was. “Contestame, cabron!”

Dean stops when he hears Cas awkwardly laugh through the phone. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I usually never stay this late. I’ve just been behind the last few weeks.”

Dean couldn’t hear what the other person said, but Cas sounded fine, so Dean took a breath of relief.

“Dean?”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry. The janitor walked into my office, and it scared me. I didn’t realize how late it was.” Dean can already picture Cas running his hand through his hair. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you call me…cabron.”

Mierda. “Well, you scared me! I thought something-Don’t do that!”

“Dean,” Oh, good. Cas was smiling. “I didn’t think you cared so much.”

“Shut up.” Dean heard the echo of his own voice. “Oye, cariño, take me off speaker! I don’t wanna hear myself.”

“Sorry, but I need my hands to pack up my things. But please, continue talking about how much you care about me while I do so.”

Dean grumbled, “I’m hanging up.”

“But te quiero!”

“You can’t keep using that against me, Angelito. Es tu culpa.”

Cas was silent for a second before Dean heard, “Excuse me. If you’re done, you can just-Sir? Hey!”

“Cas?” And before Dean can panic again, he hears a familiar voice call his name from the other end.

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart sinks as the voice echoes in his mind. Dean’s head falls into his hand as he starts to shake just a little before answering. “Sam. Tell me where you are.”

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts: Max Phillips

Hello!  This is sort of a sequel to the Pero story, in that we saw Max and now we know what he was doing there and what choice he needed to make.

Warnings:  Cursing. Angst. I had the trick of having to put both blank canvas characters into one story, lol.  But I think I finessed it.  The “you” character is a blank slate, mostly gender neutral (mentions of wanting to have children could sway your perception one way or the other.). Not betad.  

This is my late #writerwednesday entry, thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​

Prologue:

Max Phillips slammed the hospital doors open, eager to get outside.  The sound beeping machines seemed to echo in his ears, making them hurt.  The smell of the place stuck to the back of his throat.

He tilted his head back in the afternoon sun, and breathed in, breathed out.  Tried to make himself calm down.  The Autumn are cleared his head as he jogged across the road.  

“Bad day?”  A voice asked.

Between two benches, almost hidden in the orange leaves, was a woman, instead of the ‘Nam veteran he usually passed a few moments talking to.  Her wiry steel colored hair was in a messy bun, covered by a turban.  She wore layers and layers even though it was a warm fall day.  “Where’s Raffi?”  Max asked.

“His daughter found him.  He decided to try living with her again.”

Max nodded.  “I hope it works out.  She wasn’t…apparently he isn’t easy to live with.  Bad dreams.”

“It’ll be better now.”  She said with such serene certainty that Max believed her.  He gave a little wave and walked away.  

He was back, twenty minutes later.  He put a chocolate shake in front of her, and a boxed fried chicken meal.  If he had known his folklore…which, sadly, he would become intimately familiar with, he would have understood her amusement.  Milk, bread…these were the Old offerings.  

Instead he shrugged, uncomfortable.  “What?  I figure everyone likes chocolate.  And I needed to eat, too.”  He sat next to her.

“How old are you?” She asked, though she knew.

He shrugged.  “Seventeen.”  He buttered a biscuit and took a huge bite.  He ate like he was starving.  “Why?”

“You seem to be awfully young to be hanging out with homeless people.  Where are your parents?”  

He shrugged again.  “My mom’s gone.  My father…”. He pointed towards the hospital doors with his chin.  “He’s dying.”  He hunched over the greasy box of chicken, potato strips and biscuits, eating like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

She sighed.

He looked at her, and she shook her head, and ate the food he brought her.  You are going to go off the rails Max Phillips.  You are going to go off the rails so badly and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The Present:

He entered the library through the basement, crept up the stairway.  The first floor was nearly empty…the university library kept late hours so that students could cram late into the night, but it was Thirsty Thursday and most of the students were elsewhere.  

He waited until you were focused on the book cart again, back towards the main floor, and got himself around the corner.  Then he pulled out his cell and dialed the front desk.

You now turned to go to the phone, at least he hoped so, as he disconnected the call and opened the side door to the area behind the circulation desk…

You were there, leaning against the cart, arms folded.  “Nice try, but I know your tricks, Mister Phillips.”

He grinned and advanced on her, step by step.

“No no…”. You point a finger at him.  “Stay back, this is a work place…”. You shoot a look towards the front desk as he backs you into your office.   “You are going to lose me my job.”  You hiss at him, and he bends a little, and kisses you breathless.

“Quit.  I’ll take care of you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He’s cool to the touch.  It’s not disconcerting, not like it used to be.  “I wish I could.”

“Stop wishing...”

“If you say ‘and make your dreams a reality’, I’ll bite you.”  

Max looks offended.  “It’s a great slogan!  Do you know how many units of Losapill those golden words have sold?”

“I don’t understand how I can love someone so much and want to punch them so badly.”

He grins down at you.  “I can name several reasons why you love me.”

You smirk up at him.  “I’m sure you can…let me go, honey.  I’ve got to tell everyone we’re closing in half an hour.”  He listened to your voice on the loudspeaker, buttery and gentle and reassuring, and smiled a little. He could listen to that voice forever.  He could sell holy water to a priest, but so far all his skills had failed to net him the one thing he wanted.

He walks with you, as you check the restrooms (He even does the men’s for you on each floor, turning off the lights and blocking the doors open) and stands behind you, hands in his pockets, looking gloomy as you gently tell students to take their books to the front desk if they needed to check them out, that the library was closing shortly.

He waits, patiently, while you close up and lock the doors and usher the last people out.  

“I really wish you’d let me turn you,” he says when you are both in your car and on the way home.  Max often took the rooftops from his office to the university.  He was fast, and strong, and being fairly indestructible made him long for the thrill of possibly getting hurt, so he parkoured his way through the city once it got dark.  It was disgusting, how he looked so good after running and leaping five miles.

He shifts in his seat as you let the silence grow.  “Are you ignoring me?”

“Yes.”  You stop at a red light.  

“Why?  You said you’d think about it.  You’ve been thinking about it for a month.  Any idea where you are on it?  Like, from the scale of one to ten…”

You’ve been wanting to avoid this.  You’ve really been wanting to avoid this.  “Zero.”

She waits.  She waits for the torrent of salesmanship.  The spiel.  Why becoming a vampire and living forever is what she wants, she just doesn’t know it’s yet.  

For once, words fail him.  No quick comeback, no charming lines. “I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me.”  He says it so softly that you almost aren’t sure you heard it.  

You pull into the apartment parking lot, picks a spot quickly you can park and take his hands in yours.  “Max.  I do.  I really do.  But just…I don’t want to be a vampire.  I don’t want to give up the things I would have to give up?”

“Like what?  Death?  Getting old?  Getting sick?  Being weak?”  He pulls his hands away.  “I am offering you unlimited time.  Think of the things we can do together!  And you don’t have to kill…I haven't killed anyone in ages!”

“Sunlight.”  You say.  “Food.”  He makes a disgusted sound and looks out the window.  “A family.”  You take a deep breath.  “Children.”

He finally looks at you again.  “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”  He raises his hand, and time goes wonky for a moment, and when things snap back into place, he’s gone.

You stay in your car a long time, hoping he’ll come back. Every step up to your apartment, you look around, hoping.  

It’s dawn, before you give up, dried out from crying, your mouth feels full of ashes and your heart full of regret.

The next day:

Max was not in a good mood the next day.  Usually he has a nice word for, if no one else, his PA, a miracle worker of a woman he’d always been fond of, but he just glared at her and slams his door shut.

Emails.  Reports.  He plowed into work.  

The door opened, and he ignored it, steadfast in the hope that whoever it was would go the fuck away.   I could always eat them.  I don’t have to be good anymore.

A cup thumped down on his desk.  He looked up.  He didn’t recognize the woman — her steel grey hair was neat, her suit elegant.  Her heart beat strangely, and he could tell she was not — quite—human.  Great.  Someone new from corporate?

“I thought you said that everyone loves chocolate?”  She said, pointing at the milkshake.  “You’ve come far, since we last spoke outside the hospital…”

He shook his head.  “I remember you, but…”. How did she come to be here? Why? His brain was still trying to match up the homeless lady with the epitome of corporate flash in front of him.  

“Now, I didn’t say you moved in a good direction.  How did the sweet boy who spent his last twenty on dinner for himself and a homeless woman end up being a bloodsucking asshole selling fake products?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s schedule an appointment, maybe for the next century?”

“Nope.”  She reached across the desk.  “You gonna drink this?”

He shook his head and she took the milkshake, leaned back in her chair, moving the straw back and forth in the lid, making an annoying shriek sound that hurt his ears.  

“Do you think I wanted this?”  He snapped at her.  Vampires didn’t really need much in the way of sleep, but he was tired.  Tired and hurt.  “And who gives you the right to fucking judge me?”

“I’m one of the gentry,” she said.  “That doesn’t give me the right, but it gives me the power.”

“You’re fae.  That explains it.  You don’t seem human.”  

“I thought they taught you the rules.  You never call us out so clearly.  Always call us by some euphemism and hope we don’t take a notion to turn our attention towards you.”

He threw up his hands.  “Why?  Why does it matter?”

“Because if I wanted to, Max Phillips, I could turn you back into the weak, dying, foolish mortal you once were.”

This stopped him.  “You could?”  He said carefully.  

“I could.”

“What’s the catch?”

She smiled.  “Good boy.  Maybe they did teach you something, after all.”  She put the milkshake on the desk.  ”You were…what?  Twenty, twenty one when you got turned?  I could, if I wanted to, make it as if you never got turned.  I could choose for you to age to the age you should be, had you not cheated death…or I could make you start from where you are right now.  If I was feeling so inclined.”

“Why would I want that?”  He scoffed.  “Do you think I want to get old and sick?  Do you think I want to spend the last year of my life in a hospital bed, unable to even piss for myself?  You think this is a fucking gift?  Enticing?  No.”

“So you don’t want a life with the librarian? Probably for the best. She is made out of sunlight and deserves so much better.”

He stopped.  He could feel the slipping…where the darker side of him started clambering up, eager to take control and rend and kill.  

“Hush.”  She said, and the blood stopped rushing in his ears, the fangs stopped aching.  “I shouldn’t needle.  It’s just so frustrating.  You were a sweet boy and you just allowed the bad in your life to make you…well, frankly, a bit of a jackass.”  She shoot him an apologetic look.  “OK, that was a cruddy apology.  But.  Back to the subject at hand.  Once, you were kind to me.  And if you do me a favor — one more favor — I will give you a choice.  A chance to choose a life for yourself instead of being a victim of bad choices and worse luck.  No strings.  No further price.”

He side eyed her a long moment.  He was intrigued, despite himself.  “What’s the favor?”

She took a small painting out of her pocket and slid it over to him.  “Another debt to pay…that woman has a soul mate out there.  I know where he is.  If you get her to my house tomorrow night, I can unite them, give them a chance at well deserved happiness.”

“Yeuch.”  He said, then picked up the painting.  “Wait.  That’s my PA.”

“Is it?  How delightful.  Isn’t just splendid how fate intervenes.”  She put a card on the desk.  “This is the address.  Hope to see you.”  She held up her finger.  “There is one thing.  She can’t know.  You have to get her there without her knowing why.  Alright?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”  He muttered.

“Good.  I am glad you understand.  Ciao!”

He picked up the card.  And cursed a bit.

NIght, in the time middle of nowhere:

“So, Mister Phillips…are you taking me out into the middle of the woods to murder me?”  His PA asked, laughing.  She didn’t know he was a vampire.  Telling people what he was hadn’t worked out very well at his last job, so he’d been much more circumspect this time.

“I promise, you are safe.  From me.  I don’t know what Corporate will do, though,” he said, turning down another road.  

“So, did they tell you what the meeting is about?”

“It’s meant to be a retreat.  All the heads of the various branches and their PA’s.  They want to re-envision the future of the company”. He took one hand off the wheel to put air quotes in the right place.  “Apparently they messed up your email address so we didn’t get the invite in time.  Someone caught it and called me directly.”

“I hope the place they picked is nice…”. She was looking out the window, trying to make out the road ahead.  “Carol in accounting is super jealous.  I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

“Well, I am irresistible.”

“Mostly.”  She grinned at him.  A square of light grabbed her attention.  “I think we’re here.”

He pulled up to the house.  It looked sketchy at best, and the looks his PA were casting made him wonder if her trust was stretching a little too thin.

He got out and walked up to the porch.  The Fae came out this time wearing a chic, flowery dress.  She ignored Max and called to his PA.  “Don’t be afraid.  You are here so I can talk to you about your dreams…and by that, I mean the Spaniard, with the scar over his eye.”

The PA froze.  “You…you know about him?”  

“Go inside, dear, and I will tell you all about him.  But I need to talk to Max, here, first”

His PA stopped next to him, put her hand on his arm.  “Will you be OK?”

“Absolutely.  You know me.”

She went into the house.  

“Come here, Max.”  The Fae held out her hand, gesturing him to come up to the porch.  He did.  A card table was set up, with one chair.  Two cards lay face down.  “Here is your choice.  Are you ready?”

He stood there, looking at the table, and nodded.  Fear coursed through him, as strong as the day cold hands grabbed him from behind, teeth sinking into his throat…

She reached down and flipped over a card.  The Queen of Spades.  “Darkness ever lasting.  A vampire queen even now is looking for her equal.  She will choose you, and the two of you will know power beyond your wildest dreams…until enough people get angry about it and decide to deal with you both.  You will not love her, but who needs love when you have sex and death and all the power you ever hoped for?”

She reaches again, flips over another card.  The Queen of Hearts.  “And this.  This is life.  Your soul will wake up, and you will be twenty one and full of possibilities again.  Your heart will beat every beat that was stolen from you.  The slate will not be wiped entirely clean, but you will have a chance — a chance with your lovely librarian.  Children.  Be kind when you were once cruel, and live a decent, good life.”  

His lips were numb.  “How…how long?”

“Long enough.  You will not feel cheated.  It will be a plain sort of life, but it will be yours, and you will have the woman you love…some would say that is worth dying for.”

“What do you know about death?  Your kind just fade when they are tired of living.  You will never know the absolute fucking horror of your body betraying you.  The fucking humiliation that waits.  The pain.”

“No.”  She said softly.  “I do not.”  She kissed his temple.  “I am sorry.  If I had met you sooner, perhaps…but, in any case, I consider all debts paid.  When you are ready, pick up the card representing your choice, and rip it in half.  Choose well, Maxwell Phillips.  May we never meet again.”

He didn’t notice her leave.  He sat down, weak, at the table.

Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.  

He’d seen both his parents die terribly.  After he was turned, he’d mourned, then he realized the gift he’d been given.  No hospitals.  No lingering disease.  No pain.

His hand hovered next to the Queen of Spades.  No love, but power and sex.  He’d tried to recover, tried to be good, for you.  And he’d started feeling the guilt.  And with guilt, came all the excuses.  That he was living according to the nature that had been forced upon him.  That he was giving people a gift…they died, or they become something that could never die.

You don’t punish the wolf for being a wolf.

But that was why it had been easy to walk away.  Because you deserved better.  Not a vampire.  Not a wolf.  A man…

He did not hear the car, but he heard the thump of the other man’s steps as he mounted the porch.  

“She’s in there…”  he said, barely paying attention.  

When the other man left, he repeated what he said to him, in his head.  Choosing between life and death.

He picked up the Queen of Hearts.  His hands were shaking.  He ripped the card in half.  Darkness roared around him, pulled him under.

When he woke up, he was on the floor of his apartment.  

No.  His fucking.  College.  Dorm room.

“Dude, you started early.”  Evan’s stupid face appeared as he bent over him.  

Max wondered if he could punch him in the face.  It would feel really, really good to punch the other man in the face,

“OK, well, I’m going to an away game…see you sometime tomorrow.”

He put the palms of his hands in his eyes.  “Yeah…have fun.”

Evan stepped over him.  “See ya…wouldn’t want to be ya!”  The door slammed shut and Max raised both hands in a one finger salute towards it.

He made himself get up and go to the bathroom.  He looked younger but not better, per se.  What is wrong with me?  What’s this feeling?

It wasn’t just that he could feel his body working.  Feel breath (was breathing always so fucking noisy?) and heat beats and aches in his neck and back from laying weird on the floor.

He’d lived for years.  But right now, he was still the same angry, miserable hit mess of a man he’d been at this point of his life.  

A phone was ringing, he went and grabbed it.

“Hey Maxie.  Is Evan gone?”  Evan’s girlfriend.  Great.

Oh.  

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Look…”

“Awesome.  I bought the cutest bra and panties…”

And this is where, he thought, this is where he took the step to becoming the man you deserved him to be.  “That’s great.  But you know…I only want to fuck you because your boyfriend is an annoying twit.”

Shocked silence.  OK still an asshole.  Check.  So much for being a sweet boy when I was younger.  “Look. I meant what I said.  You are beautiful. You are probably far, far too good for Evan. Or maybe not, if you are willing to screw around with an asshole like me. In any case, you deserve better. But you have to decide what better is.”

This treated him to a string of profanity before the woman hung up.

Then, he walked to the infirmary, and asked for aspirin. And if there were any free spots for the therapist.

Sunday, the conversation between roommates went like this:

“So you were going to screw my girlfriend?”

A shrug — Max concentrated on the video game.  “Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He paused the game.  “Because you deserve better.”

He felt Evan throw himself on the couch next to him.  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re just so fucking happy and peppy and optimistic and everything is going to be awesome but I think the world is shit and misery and maybe if you dialed it back a little I we could have conversations that didn’t end with me wanting to punch your face.”

“Dude.”  It sounded defeated and apologetic at the same time.

Max held a controller out to him. “Sorry. I’ll try to be less of an asshole.”

He took it.  “I’ll try to be less…happy?”

Max sighed.  “Just don’t get me kicked out, ok? I can’t afford anywhere else and I really don’t want to end up in Transylvania.”

Two years later, he decided he could go and find you.

Most people went to nice places on their spring break.

Max got on a bus and headed to a University in the next state.  They’d had their Spring break a week sooner.

There you were. Sitting cross legged on a bench with a man with a streak of blonde in his hair, and a suit coat with elbow patches.  Elbow patches.  Pretentious asshole.

You were tucking hair behind your ear. You liked him. Max wondered if he should leave, come back…in a year?  Three?  When did he have a right to become part of your life?  Did he even?

You look at him and smile and it is sunshine and he can’t leave.

The man on the bench says something about class.  “See you at work,” she tells him, and he lopes off in an easy walk to one of the brick covered class buildings.

Max approaches carefully.  “Hey.  Um.  I’m thinking about transferring here, wondered what it’s like?”

She shifted her bag over, even though there was plenty of room to sit, and he took it as an invite.  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

He gave her his best smile. “Everything. I want to know everything.”

[blackmissfrizzle]

The Barbershop (EZ Edition)

Angel’s Edition

Miguel’s Edition

Pairing: EZ Reyes x black!reader

Summary: The reader gets EZ ready for his patch party.

Warnings: Use of the n-word & smut

A/N: Thank you to @ly--canthrope​ for the EZ fluff prompts!  

A/N (2): I highly suggest listening to El Clavo while listening. Also, I think Nestor and Coco might be getting some attention from me, so be on the look out for that.

Prompts: 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice” 

Person scrunching their nose & other kisses them

When you got your first pair of clippers in high school, EZ was your first customer and ever since you’ve been cutting his hair. Even when he went off to college, EZ came back to Santo Padre to get his hari cut by his best friend. The only time you didn’t cut his hair was when he was in prison for those 8 years, but since he’s been back, he hasn’t missed an appointment.

Now here he was at your house with his hair longer than usual because he was busy with club shit. Luckily, he came by with enough time for you to do his hair before his patch party. “Ezekiel, please come to me before your hair gets this long again.”

He pinched your side as you moved around him. “Hey, you do Angel’s hair all the time and his hair is a shit ton longer than mines.”

“I’m used to Angel’s long locks! You’re supposed to be the clean-cut brother.” You stopped cutting his hair and moved the clippers in front of his face. “Oh, and if you pinch me again while I’m doing your hair, I’ll purposefully fuck up your hairline. Let’s see how many of those hang arounds will want your dick then.”

He held up his hands in surrender and mumbled his apologies, but not really meaning it. As long as you’ve been his best friend his favorite pastime was to rile you up. He loved how flustered you got when you couldn’t come up with a clever comeback. He loved how your hand slapped him across his body even if it was a little painful. He loved how your eyes widened in shock and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how you’ll look when he finally gets the chance to slip inside you.

Everyone was aware of his crush on you, except you. The only reason EZ didn’t tell you was because with the pair of you, timing was awful. When he realized he was in love with you, you had a boyfriend and when you broke up with that boyfriend EZ was with Emily. Then, he went off to prison and when he came back, he didn’t want to involve you with his mess, so he kept his distance. But he couldn’t wait anymore, he had to let you know.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he grabbed your attention by lightly grazing your hip. “Yes, Ezekiel?” He let out a soft groan. He loved when you used his full name. It didn’t matter if you were yelling it excitement, teasing him, or scolding him, he just loved to hear it.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t say anything else because your phone started to ring. It was your sorta boyfriend, Rick. EZ couldn’t stand him. He was a douchebag that gave you more headaches than anything. And it was obvious to EZ that you didn’t love him. It was evident in the way you talked about him like an annoying chore. For the life of him, EZ didn’t understand why you kept him around.

“Oh, so now you’re coming? Well, just meet me there because EZ’s riding with me.” EZ couldn’t help to smile a bit at you putting Rick in his place. He tried to listen to Rick’s response, but he could only make out his tone and from that he could tell he was pissed. “Why? Nigga, I don’t have to give you a reason why my best friend is riding in my car.” Even though you were busy with your little argument your hand never faltered, cutting hair was second nature to you. “Ugh, if you must know its his party and I’m planning to get him plastered, so he needs a DD. That’s good with you? Oh, wait I don’t care,” You hung up the phone soon after that.

“Rick coming?” EZ managed to keep the disdain for him out of his voice. “Who knows? Probably be better if he stays but forget about him.” You turned off the clippers and brushed his hair, then gave EZ the mirror to inspect himself. After he gave his haircut a serious inspection, he started biting his lip and doing his signature pretty boy poses.

“Okay, Lothario if you’re done making out with yourself in the mirror, imma go take a shower to start getting ready.” As you turned to walk away, EZ grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him. “Thank you, querida.” He kissed your wrist and gave you those adorable puppy dog eyes. “No problem, EZ,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, then went to your bathroom to get ready and ignored your heart swelling up from EZ’s touch.

An hour later you were still getting ready and EZ was taking a shower. While you were applying on makeup, EZ walked into your room wet, fresh out the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. You knew EZ was ripped, but see it up close, my god there are no words.

EZ caught your staring in the mirror. “Like what you see?” He asked, flexing his pecs. “Ew, no!” You falsely claimed and scrunched up your nose in faux disgust.  EZ came up to you and kissed your nose before snatching your lotion off the dresser.  “You know what, you’re right. You love it.” EZ was so damn close to you that you could feel the heat of the shower radiating off of him.

“Yeah, I love it,” you deadpanned before pushing him away. “Now get ready. I don’t want you to be late to your own party.”

--

While EZ was having the time of his life, you were having the opposite. Rick ended up coming, but he was in a funky mood thus bringing your mood down. When his first words were something about how your dress wasn’t flattering, you made plans to break up with him. Using him as a distraction from EZ was draining your soul and you didn’t need that kind of energy in your life.

He made the breakup easier for you when you caught him in the restroom with one of Vicky’s girls with his dick in her mouth. You couldn’t even muster up any anger, instead you gave the girl and extra $100 for her troubles.

Although, getting cheated on sucked, what pissed you off the most was the girls all fawning over EZ. They were all over him like bitches in heat, rubbing on his chest, arms, and head, commenting on his haircut…your haircut. “Damn chica, just go claim your man.” Coco observed how you were sending death glares at the women.

“He’s not my man! He’s grown and can do whatever he wants.” You sputtered, surprised at being caught. “Exactly! If you weren’t too chicken, then he’d be your man.” Angel commented, taking a sip of his beer.

You ignored Coco’s and Angel’s somewhat encouraging words to look back at EZ. Your face instantly brightened when you saw how at ease he was. It wasn’t too often EZ could let go like this.

EZ felt a pair of eyes on him and when he found out it was you his eyes gleamed, he cracked that boyish smile and raised his beer to you. Excusing himself EZ made his way to you and gave you a hug. “Ezekiel, what’s with the hug?”

“I miss you.”

“You rode with me here, EZ.”

“Its Ezekiel and I barely talked to you since we’ve been here. Is it so bad that I want to party with my best friend?” You scrunched up your face. “I guess not.”

EZ hummed his appeasement and kissed your nose.  “Come dance with me.” He didn’t give you time to reject him. Tightly he tugged your hand and pulled you into the middle of the scrapyard.

Prince Royce and Maluma’s El Clavo began to play. EZ knew how much you loved this song, but since you didn’t know Spanish you didn’t understand the song. It was ironic to him that this song was playing tonight. Earlier, he saw how Angel escorted Rick out and the relief wash over you when you saw him leave. He knew Rick must’ve done something stupid. If it wasn’t for your need to avoid conflict, EZ would’ve beat his ass right then and there.

“What are you doing?” You questioned EZ as he placed his leg between yours and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Dancing obviously,” he chuckled near your ear sending vibrations throughout your body.

You decided not to fight him and followed his lead. There’s been plenty of times you’ve dance with EZ, but it was always playful and fun, but this…this was different, this was sensual. A passionate dance only meant to be shared between lovers.

“Eyes,” he ordered assertively. It was his command to you when he wanted you to feel what he was saying.

Si esta noche tu novio te bota (If tonight your boyfriend throws you out) Dile que tú no estás sola (Tell him that you are not alone) Que tú estás conmigo, que yo sí te cuido (That you are with me, that I do take care of you) No como ese idiota (no como ese idiota) (Not like that idiot (not like that idiot) Si esta noche tu novio te bota (If tonight your boyfriend throws you out) Dile que tú no andas sola (que no 'tás sola) (Tell him that you are not alone (that you are not alone) Que yo soy el clavo que saca ese clavo (That I am the nail that pulls that nail)

Y dile que se joda (And tell him to fuck) Maluma, baby

Your breath hitched as EZ began translating the lyrics to English. He had to be able to feel how fast your heart was beating. “There it is.” He pointed out. “There what is?”

“That look.” He tugged your bottom lip that you had tucked underneath your teeth. “What look?” Your breath brushed against his thumb and it took all his control not to pounce on you.

“Eyes blown out, chest heaving. See,” EZ gripped your chin to keep your eyes leveled with his. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. It’s the same look I have when I look at you.”

“Stop playing with me, Ezekiel.” Your heart couldn’t take it if this was some sort of joke. “I’m not.” His voice did not waver.

“What about Emily? Or Gabby?”

“Distractions. Distractions that kept me from the real thing for too long.” You sucked your teeth in disbelief. EZ decided to translate the song for you some more. If you weren’t going to believe his words, then maybe you’ll believe another’s.

Yo llevo la cuenta, esta es la quinta vez  (I keep track, this is the fifth time) Pero yo no entiendo por qué no lo ves   (But I don't understand why you don't see him) Tú estás demasiado buena para estar con él (mamacita) (You're too hot to be with him (mamacita)) Tremenda mujer para estar con él  (Tremendous woman to be with him) Y si te busca a las 4:20 porque te llama borracho  (And if he looks for you at 4:20 because he calls you drunk) Ahora te quiere pero mañana vuelve a hacerte daño (Now he loves you but tomorrow he will hurt you again) Por ese bobo no llores  (For that fool, don’t cry) Deja que yo te enamore (deja que yo te enamore)  (Let me make you fall in love (let me make you fall in love)

Now that you knew EZ’s feelings, the lyrics became much more intense for you. Instinctively, you rested your forehead on his. His lips hovered over yours so much that you could taste the beer on his breath. Your acrylic nails caressed the back of his head caused him to stop his translation and purr against your neck. “You like that, Ezekiel?” You teased, giggling against his neck.

“I don’t know,” EZ pressed up against you tighter so you could feel his hardon. “You tell me if it feels like I like it.”

Now or never, you thought. You brought your lips closer to EZ’s. The both of you fighting for dominance, but ultimately EZ won, claiming you in front of the club. It wasn’t until you heard the cheers of his brothers that he’d stop kissing you.

Instantly, EZ started pulling you in the direction of your car, but you stopped him. “I can’t wait, Ezekiel. I need you now.” EZ’s normally bright eyes darkened and he led you towards the clubhouse. On your way to the dorm room, both you and EZ ignored Angel when he told you, “Don’t be surprised when EZ starts crying.”

As the pair of you made it through the hallway, each of your touches got heavier, more daring. So daring that when you finally got to his dorm your dress was halfway off. The rest of the clothes fly off like a whirlwind except EZ’s jeans. In his rush he tripped over his jeans. “Oh, that’s funny?” He asked when he caught you giggling.

“Just a little.” EZ rushed to you, tackled you to the bed and quickly turned your giggles into soft moans as he kissed you.

Despite your best efforts to keep him close, EZ pulled away. He leaned back on his haunches and admired your body. “I can’t believe I finally have you.” He lifted your leg threw it over his shoulder and started kissing you from your ankle up to your inner thighs. “You know one night when I slept over at your place. I caught you touching yourself. Your hands flew to your face to cover up the embarrassment. “Oh god,” you mumbled.

EZ’s deep chuckle made you peek through your hands. “What are you embarrassed for? For that little 10 seconds, it was the sexiest thing I’ve seen, but it was so damn torturous in the most beautiful way. Do you know how hard it is to have that vividly replaying in my head and not have you?”

The whole time EZ was talking he was getting closer to your core, but you were hyper focused on his words that his mouth on your clit took you by surprise. “Shit,” you squealed underneath his tongue. With your hand you covered your mouth to keep your screams down. EZ lifted his head at your muffled screams. “No, let me hear you. Let me know how good I make you feel.”

Following his instructions, you removed your hand and that earned you an approving smile from EZ. “Good girl.” Before he returned to his meal, EZ grabbed you by the back of your neck, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

This time he added his fingers as he ate you out. The hold he had on you allowed no room for you to run, you had to stay there and take everything he was giving you. Add pussy eating to the long list of things that Ezekiel Reyes is great at.

Your hands shot out to EZ’s head. Scratching it was your best alternative since you had nothing to tug at. EZ raised his head, his mouth glistening from your cunt. “I bet you wish my hair was longer now.” He teased before diving right back in.

“EZ, I’m gonna cum.” You continued scratching the back of his head as he moved his tongue and fingers faster. “Cum all over my mouth, preciosa.” He murmured above your pussy.

An explosion. That was the only way you could describe your orgasm. It busted through your body, leaving you and EZ soaked. The evidence shone on his forearm, highlighting his veins, leaving you in a trance.

EZ noticed your staring at his arm. “Ride my forearm.” He demanded, excited that he’ll be able to get you off this way.

At first you were hesitant, but with EZ’s urging you hopped on it. You were experiencing immense pleasure and wanted EZ to experience the same. Tonight, was a celebration for him and this entire time his focus was on you. Completely selfless as usual. Reaching between your bodies, you began stroking him, smearing his precum all over his engorged head. “What are you doing?” He gasped, flexing his arm a bit more. “Tonight’s about you. I want to make you feel good.”

EZ nibbled at your chin. “I want you to cum all over my forearm, that’ll make me feel good.” You continued jerking him off while you rode him.

Who would’ve thought the rough ridges of his protruding veins and his constant flexing had you cumming a second time for the night? “Fuck we got to do that again!” You tried to nuzzle your face in EZ’s neck, but he wouldn’t let you because he was too busy kissing you all over your face. “EZ, I just came on your fucking arm.”

“Yeah and it was hot! I bet that douchebag couldn’t do that with his measly dick.” Slowly, he began to lay you down. “Now you’re about to cum all over my dick while screaming my name.”

Your now boyfriend made good on his promise. Opposed to Rick’s useless jackhammering, EZ made slow, powerful strokes, ensuring you were well taken care of.

He was tending to your body so well your eyes kept rolling to the back of your head. “Eyes!” He commanded harsher than ever before. When your eyes met his, you could see the struggle in his eyes. EZ wanted to be soft, gentle, and romantic, but deep down he wanted to fuck you hard, show you who you belong to.

“Make me yours, Ezekiel. Fuck me like you mean it.” It took him some time to process the words, but when he did his widened in realization that he got permission to let go. “Fuck, I love you.” He captured your lips in a searing kiss, hoping to communicate how much he loved you. “I love you too.” You told him as he had a bruising hold on your hips.

Gone was sweet soft Ezekiel. He was replaced by EZ, the harsh lover that’s gonna push you over the edge, then bring you back just to do it all over again.

Yours and EZ’s moans accompanied by the sound of bodies slapping together made a symphony that you would never get tired of. This was what you were missing for all those years apart.

“Make me proud. Cum all over this dick, querida.” EZ suckled your neck, branding you with his marks. “Ezekiel!” You cried out as your body combusted, almost feeling every molecule in your body. The newly patched Mayan silenced your cries with his mouth as he came soon after you.

EZ tried to lay in the bed with you but you refused. I t was his party and you were adamant that he enjoys it some more. You two can have your alone time later.

Just as you were sliding up your panties, EZ stuffed his fingers up your cum filled pussy. “Don’t want this leaking out.” He whispered, giving you a cheeky grin as you moaned at his ministrations.

“Okay, that’s enough you nasty ass kids. Playtime is over! Time to get fucked up, baby bro. I’m sure Y/N wants to forget the last 30 seconds.” Angel banged on the door.

“That was nice while it lasted.” You slipped your dress over your head and fixed your hair. EZ hummed his agreeance and led you out the door and ignored the childish jeering from his brothers. They could tease all they want, because as long as he has you, he doesn’t give a damn.

Taglist: @starrynite7114​ @sadeyesgf​ @ly--canthrope​ @woahitslucyylu​ @marvelmaree​ @angrythingstarlight​ @teakturn​ @thickemadame​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @strawberrywritings​ @dearsamcrobae​ @chaneajoyyy​ @spookys-girl​ @bigsisbria​

[archive-of-note]

Fresh Sourdough and Old Stories.

(I’m not good at this fic naming thing don’t at me)

Pero Tovar x GN! Reader

Rating: Teen, only because reader gets a lil thirsty.

Warning: Food

Notes: @absurdthirst wrote this earlier today, I read it, this happened, then I took a nap.

Fun fact: I only know two things about my great grandad. One, he was from China, and two, when he met my great grandmother he said to her something along the lines of “you’re very fat.” Which from him was a complement. It got lost in cultural translation and her girlfriends threatens to kick his head in.

Writer Wednesday Week 25, @writer-wednesday

Your great grandmother told you the story.

You were young, probably four or five, when she turned off PBS and sat you down with all the solemn seriousness of some great tragedy.

Then she told you a story.

Pero Tovar, a mercenary— you had to ask what that meant— from Spain— you had to ask where that was— helped defeat nameless monsters at the Great Wall.

“The one in China?”

“Yes, sweetheart, that one.”

Something happened to him there, something beyond reason, a miracle or a curse— you asked how a miracle could be a curse— it has kept him alive these near thousand years— you still couldn’t count that high— and no one knows except for your family.

“Why only us?”

She booped your nose, “Because we were the only ones who noticed.”

When you got older, you learned that great grandad was the one who kept the story, but he told grandma before he left for war.

Everyone says he died on the battlefield, even though there were pictures of him back home after it was over.

You didn’t understand what that meant until later, and your heart still sometimes hurts for the man you never met.

For some reason the story stayed with you, even after only hearing it once. It lead to a somewhat obsessive phase with time traveling romances and history, your mother even joking that she didn’t just have you a bit late, but apparently centuries late.

You tried to slow down your rereads of Outlander after that.

Life happened, it stalled, you grew into a person via fits and starts, slowly chipping away at an AA until you suddenly had it but still had no clue what to do with it.

The bakery was supposed to be a pit stop, which insured that it would be anything but.

Grouchy four AM wake ups turned into tolerable ones, turned into excited ones. Your boss said you ran through the kitchen like a hurricane, but one that at least had the decency to pick up after itself.

You’d laugh and only slightly choke on the flour in the air.

Breads became muffins, then tarts, then pies, and occasionally even cakes. All of them simply presented but delicious nonetheless.

And time went on.

“I’m giving you first dibs.”

“First dibs on what?”

Wild berries with a lemon drizzle, one of your more extravagant offerings, but with summer coming to a close, that burst of sweetness with a subtle hit of zest was what people wanted. Something to hold onto that summer feeling as the season came to an end.

“The shop.”

Only several years worth of practice and learned reflex is what kept those tarts alive.

But only just.

“What?”

“You’re basically running the place yourself, if you want it, it’s yours.”

You place the tray on one of the cooling racks and swat at your apron, movements nothing more then an anxious fidget.

“But I don’t know anything about the business end.”

He laughs.

“I’m not leaving yet, just getting my ducks in a row, so I can teach you.”

Relief, still tinged with nerves but relief nonetheless.

He says you should’ve gone into business, with how fast the numbers and names stay with you, and maybe you’ll try for that one day. But for now, it’s just learning things and transferring others, making digital spreadsheets to give the poor hand kept ledger a break. Learning stock codes and company quirks that justify them still being used opposed to something closer or cheaper.

“And I don’t care what Jonathan says, the man is nearly old as I am, he damn well knows not to fuck with me.”

You choke on your laughter, it’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard the man swear at someone opposed to some temperamental machinery.

He laughs along as well.

“I’m sure you’ve got a handle on it, especially with the computer doing the sheets.”

“It can’t replace you.”

“Damn right it can’t!”

You hug him, he’s no longer your boss and that feels weird, but oddly enough not wrong.

You might actually be settling into this.

“Remember, anything gets weird or goes wrong, I’m just a phone call away. I won’t leave you hanging.”

“Yeah, I still might call though, just to check if you’re still kicking.”

“Worrywart, I’m not dead yet.”

“And you better keep it that way.”

He laughs, he leaves, and by noon that day, you get an email that informs you the deed of ownership has been transferred and the place really is yours now.

It’s scary.

It’s exciting.

And time goes on.

Some things change, you renovate so there are more windows, thus more natural light, you hire some new hands, to keep the back moving, and while it hurts you just a bit, you finally replace Ol’ Big Bertha. The oven screeches in protest and the guy who installs the new one is surprised that she was still standing. And after he gets a small burn, that surprise moves to the store.

“Bit longer, who knows what’d've happened, really,” he wipes his brow, “probably shoulda been replaced a good twenty years ago.”

“Probably closer to forty.”

He makes a face, “I was hoping to be polite.”

You wave a hand as you give him a tip, “Politeness in regards to safety never kept anyone alive, so please, use this as a cautionary tale,” you elbow him in the side in what was probably too casual a gesture, “might even get more sales out of it to boot.”

He gives an awkward chuckle, before walking himself out.

And time goes on.

He’s handsome, that’s the first thing you notice. Dark hair with a slight curl, olive skin, a prominent nose, he turns to look at something at the far side of the display, and his profile is striking, something classical that should be cut from marble.

“May I help you?”

Nothing.

You speak up, “Sir, may I help you?”

He hums, but you don’t think it has to do with responding to what you said.

“Sir!”

Still nothing.

Is he hard of hearing? It’s been ages since you practiced ASL, and even then, does he know it?

“May I help you?”

He finally looks to you, and maybe it’s the heat of the store, but the way his eyes widen tells you otherwise, his cheeks have a bit of a flush.

That doesn’t distract you from the scar that shows he almost lost his left eye.

Suddenly you’re reminded of the story your grandmother told you.

A constant scowl, a ceaseless appetite, a scared Spaniard that has walked the world for nearly a millennia.

“I-“

There’s a lit, you can’t identify it yet but your gut is telling you Spanish.

“I followed my nose.”

It is, and at no point did your grandmother say he was handsome, let alone that he was cute.

You can’t hold back your laugh.

He shuffles, shifting his weight as he shoves his hands in his pockets. And of course those jeans are damn near painted on his legs.

“That’s good.”

You look around the store, empty except for him. So if he isn’t who you think he is (possible) you won’t have any witnesses to your flight of fancy.

“That’s what I wanted. For people to be drawn in by the smell of fresh bread.”

Now you’re nervous, and your tongue feels thick and awkward in your mouth.

He looks to your face, but quickly moves his gaze down to your hands, and you can’t help but roll your fingers, feeling as if he’s looking for a ring or something similar to the sort.

He swallows, “I want something. The best you’ve got.”

You hum, thinking it over what you have, and the sort of man he seems to be.

The shelf behind you is under heating lights, that double as spot lights keeping every loaf warm and making each of them look good.

Something traditional, little to no processing, old fashioned.

But maybe a bit of a surprise as well.

Your eyes zero in on one of your experiments, oats and whet germ, more for texture than for flavor, but also a hint of pepper, nothing all that strong, but it adds a bit of a zing that you very much enjoy.

It’s an entire loaf, but one of the smaller ones, it was only an experiment after all.

You squeeze it as you pick it up, smelling the bread and being reminded of the cinnamon that you dusted the raw dough with as an afterthought, maybe you should pick another one.

But he did say the best you’ve got.

Your eyes flutter open, you didn’t even realize you’d closed them, and you catch a glimpse of his face. His mouth is open in something like awe, one hand raised but stalled in front of his chest, eyes a bit glazed over.

You blink again and he clears his throat.

You grab a plate, then figure if he’s who you’re gut is telling you he is, that he’ll want something else as well.

So you grab a tray, a crock and a pot, thinking of suggesting the broccoli and cheese cream soup, if he’s so inclined.

You push the tray his way, and he finally scrambles for his wallet, fumbling ever so slightly as he all but shoves his card your way.

P. Tovar

You shake your head, and his confusion turns into shock.

“For you, Pero Tovar, there is no charge.”

You can’t help your small smile, “Eat, enjoy, and remember.”

[sunflowerandco]

After the Fact: Act VII - The First of Three

Hey everyone :) here's another chapter, and we're back in present times. i wanted to thank Andy@straighttxhell for being a bilingual queen and helping me with the Spanish dialogue in this chapter you saved me!!

I hope you all enjoy <3

Courtney had her head buried in her textbook when she heard Duncan arrive home from work. She didn't mean to sound defeated in her delivery. "Oh, good. You're home."

He headed toward her study nook. "Missed me that much? What's wrong, Princess?" He questioned her, her look of frustration apparent on her face.

"I just can't get past this scenario in my textbook for my criminal law class."

"Sounds like my thing."

Courtney scoffed. "Hardly..." Duncan looked at her in utmost offense. "Oh, don't get offended. I just consider you...retired."

"That's more like it. I retired for a life in peace with my lady."

Courtney agreed playfully to appease him. "Yes, definitely." He leaned down, pecking her on her lips.

"But, yeah, what was the problem-thing?"

She turned her head over her shoulder to explain the dilemma, eventually turning the chair toward him. "Basically, they're asking me if this scenario requires prosecution: Person A shoots Person B in an attempt to kill them. However, Person B was already dead before Person A pulls the trigger. My question is: where does the line between motive and convenience become blurred? When does the defendant become a total liability for the damage done?"

Duncan hadn't felt this lost since he attended his Pre-Calculus class on accident. All he knew was that he has been referred to as 'defendant' a couple times in his life. "Well, the defendant could still be a good liar."

"...What?"

"You said he'd become a liability? But, how could that mess up his ability to lie?"

She closed her eyes as she tried to make sense of his statement. "Duncan... that has to be the most incoherent thing I've ever heard you say." She shamefully side-eyed to herself. "Why was that so hot?"

"Oh?" He smirked, egging her on. He still had no idea what he was talking about, but he liked flustering her in any way he could. He couldn't keep a straight face as he continued on. "I'm serious, babe! I've been a defendant enough times to know about lying abilities."

Courtney shook her head slowly, unbuttoning her shirt, but didn't let it fall. "That was so stupid. Fuck me."

Courtney never had to say those words more than once. They became one, an unconstrained, vocal Courtney flush against the wall with her legs wrapped around Duncan's waist clawing at his back.

***

Courtney groaned at the very last task she and Bridgette needed to complete: setting the table for the dinner both her and Duncan's parents were invited to in celebration of their engagement. A good amount of time had passed since the news broke. But, it was still an opportunity for everyone to meet and spend some time together.

"I'm just so freaking tired. I couldn't get out of bed this morning." Courtney handed the other end of the table cloth to Bridgette. "Duncan had to carry me to the shower."

Bridgette and Courtney lifted the cloth into the air, one losing sight of the other. Bridgette spoke as it slowly rested on top of the table. "Is he really that good?" She smirked as she smoothed out the edges with her hands.

"Please. Like his ego could use any more inflation..." Bridgette still waited for an answer, making Courtney give in. "Yes. But, he never tires me out to that point."

"Maybe you've been too stressed lately?"

"I suppose so. Planning this dinner, getting our families to come together all on the same day sure did wear us the hell out." They were done setting the table when Courtney raised the question. "Are you sure you don't wanna stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to, but..."

"But?!"

"I'm starting my fertility treatment today. Geoff and I have been trying for over a year, and we need the extra help."

Courtney pulled her into a hug. "I hope everything goes well. You know I love you. If you need to talk about anything, I'm here."

Bridgette took in her words before changing the subject. "Thank you. I love you, too, Court. So, what about you guys?"

"What about us?"

"You know... have you and Duncan talked about babies?"

She and Bridgette each sat on a dining chair in unison; Courtney sighed louder than she meant to in exhaustion. "I mean of course! But, I have this three year plan: finish law school, become a prosecutor, get married, and move out all in three years."

"That's quite the plan."

"Oh, that's nothing. I haven't even gotten to the two-year within the three-year plan."

"You have a plan for your plan?" Bridgette's head spun trying to wrap her head around Courtney's obsession with organization. "Never mind, the word's lost its meaning."

***

After their parents had done their formal introductions to each other, they settled into their seats for dinner. Besides story exchanging and pleasant conversation, Courtney had to deal with an occasional all-knowing stare from her mother. She tried her best to ignore it for the sake of a successful dinner. She was also coping with the fact that she was still hungry after eating her serving.

"Are you gonna finish that, babe?"

"Uh... no. Here, take it."

She smiled, scraping the last of Duncan's pasta on her plate. "Thank you. I just haven't eaten all day."

Courtney's mother called from across the table. "Can you help me with something in the kitchen, honey?"

Courtney nodded, getting up from her seat. They walked in together while her mother pulled her into a closer corner of the kitchen, speaking in a hushed tone.

"¿Por qué no me dijiste?"

Why didn't you tell me?

Courtney gave her a confused look, encouraging her to explain further.

"Que estás embarazada."

That you're pregnant.

Courtney furrowed her brows at her incredulous statement. "Qué? ¡No estoy embarazada!"

What? I'm not pregnant!

"Conozco a mi hija."

I know my daughter.

"Mamá! No digas tonterías!"

Mom, stop talking nonsense!

"No tienes que creerme. Pero aléjate de la champaña."

You don't have to believe me but stay away from the champagne.

Courtney rolled her eyes as Duncan walked into the kitchen.

"Everything okay in here?"

"Sí, mi amor- yes, everything's fine. Mamá just wanted me to take out this stack of plates."

"They're too heavy, cariño-"

Courtney widened her eyes and spoke through gritted teeth, signaling for her mother to stop this in front of Duncan. "I got it."

They all returned to their seats with Courtney demanding everything to be resumed to normal without her mother's theories.

***

Courtney stood in front of the mirror assembling her outfit for her very first mock trial. While she still struggled with her energy level hitting a new low, Courtney had been looking forward to this assignment for weeks. She brought out her favorite suit jacket and skirt to match, trying to slip it on with ease when she hit a snag at the button on her waist. Courtney tried her hardest to slip the button through until it eventually popped, landing on the floor.

"Goddamn it!"

Duncan called from the hallway as he approached their bedroom. "What happened?"

"My favorite skirt... I popped the damn button. I must've gained some weight." Courtney knew it was nearly impossible to stay the same weight she was five years ago, but was still sad to see her skirt go.

Duncan shamelessly eyed her backside. "Maybe there are consequences for havin' a fatty."

Courtney sighed defeatedly. "Now what am I gonna wear?" He gingerly held her by the waist, his arms wrapping around her torso, and eyed her through the mirror when he reassured her. "You would look amazing in anything, babe."

A smile crept the corner of her lips as she held the hands he wrapped around her. He let her go after pecking her on the cheek and she settled for a newer pantsuit that aligned with her figure. She was seconds away from heading out the door when Duncan called out to her; she only used her head to turn back to him.

"Hey! You forgot something."

"What?"

His hand swiftly slapped her ass and she yelped. She would've kicked him if she wasn't already about to miss her train.

"I'm going to kill you later!"

"I love you, too, Princess!"

***

She figured if she distributed her energy into the testimonies she'd ace the mock trial with flying colors.

Her body had other plans by the end of the trial.

Courtney tried to muster up the energy she had to give her mock closing argument. She used her arms to lift her up from the chair and she sauntered to the fake jury.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, the evidence lays out right in front of you: the bloodied bat, motive, and an eyewitness that places the defendant right at the crime scene. Do not let Alicia become a statistic. Put her sadistic killer rightfully where he belongs."

She took a deep breath before she turned around to head back to her seat. Her head spun and she tried to focus on the seat she was getting to until it was too blurry to see. Her eyes shut as she fell onto the floor. She fell in and out of consciousness as she heard fragments of voices around her.

...an ambulance!

...she have a pulse?

Stay with me, Ms. Courtney.

***

Duncan received a call from the hospital and rushed out of the tattoo shop without much thought. When he reached Courtney's hospital room, Duncan found her mother standing outside exchanging pleasantries with the doctor. He assumed she had just made it there as well.

"Now, you're Mom and..?"

"Boyfriend," Duncan answered.

"Boyfriend." The doctor reiterated while shaking his hand. "I'm Doctor Holt and I've been taking care of Ms. Courtney. She's going to be fine. We're just monitoring her blood pressure, making sure she's getting some rest. Fainting is a common occurrence in the first trimester."

Duncan nodded, accepting the verdict until he realized the last three words that came out of the doctor's mouth. He furrowed his brow in confusion and disbelief. He took pauses, stammered over his words as he tried to catch his breath the last three words stole from his lungs. "Th-the first trimester? ...Of pregnancy?"

"Yes...?"

"I knew it!" Courtney's mother exclaimed in victory over her intuition. Duncan whipped his head to the left of him in shock.

"You knew?!"

"Well, not knew, per se. A mother can just tell." This time Doctor Holt chimed in realizing his mistake.

"I'm so sorry. I couldn't ask her about the possibility of her being pregnant. She kept falling in and out of consciousness and I just decided to draw her blood for a test. I needed to know to care for her properly. If you don't know, then that means she definitely doesn't know she's pregnant."

"If it's not too much, I'd like to tell my daughter the news."

"I'm not against that," Doctor Holt declared. "I just need to be in the room when it happens. I'll be back in about five minutes to see if she's awake." He turned to enter another patients room down the hall. Lorena looked over to her future son-in-law being uncharacteristically silent, looking at Courtney through the door's window.

"How are you doing, Pobrecito?"

He didn't divert his gaze. The longer he stared, the more he was able to accept the fact. A small smile crept upon his face seeing his girl so sound asleep. For once, Duncan didn't feel resistant to change. When he looked at Courtney he didn't doubt either of their abilities; only relief took over as he ascertained that she was his partner in this journey. The only thing bringing him out of his thoughts were the angry exclaims from Lorena.

"Now you decide to show up after all these years?!" Duncan turned to see a tall man with graying hair in a suit.

Courtney rarely spoke of her father. Duncan had an idea why she didn't; the words exchanged between her parents confirmed his assumptions and her apprehensiveness when he asked. There were some things Courtney just didn't talk about with anyone and Duncan felt he needed to respect that no matter the circumstance. Her father answered, his tone devoid of any emotion. Every sentence suggested his presence was strictly business and contrasted her Lorena's emotional articulation.

"I'm still on her emergency contact card, so I'm entitled to know the status of my daughter's health."

"You can't just decide to be a father whenever you want! She and Kate are past the age of needing their father, if you couldn't tell."

"Because, of course, you're doing a fine job." He retorted, gesturing to Courtney's state.

"What happened to her is no one's fault. Not even her own." Lorena crossed her arms in frustration, defensive over him undermining all of her work. "Courtney and Kate have their mother. I knew I didn't give our daughters your last name for a reason!"

Duncan intervened when he saw Courtney staring through the window. "Please! Stop. She's awake." He turned to her father. He knew nothing about him, not even his first name. Still, he immediately wanted to diffuse the situation to diminish any stress Courtney could be feeling. Duncan tried his best to steer him away without revealing any information. "It's your best interest to leave. The doctor told us Courtney is fine and we've got it under control, but she doesn't need any more stress as it is." Lorena had the last word before her father left Courtney again.

"If she needed you, she'd call you herself."

***

Courtney's eyes fluttered open to offending voices. She knew she was going to the hospital from what the EMT told her while she lied in the ambulance. She just didn't know how much time had passed between then and now. Courtney enjoyed the feeling of being well-rested before she sat up, squinting her eyes to catch a glimpse of the arguing pair in the hallway. Her eyes widened when she witnessed her mom pointing her finger at her dad while he stood there completely composed and unbothered. Courtney froze and could only stare at them in their usual mode of communication.

It took her back to the little girl watching her father make his yearly visit, her mother denying him access for the emotional protection of her daughters. She remembered watching from the top of the stairs, hoping her sister wouldn't wake from the sound of their parents fighting. At the age of ten Courtney promised herself she wouldn't let herself feel that helpless ever again. That she'd never let her father ever make her feel unwanted.

Their yelling ceased when Duncan interrupted the both of them, signaling to them about her being woken up. The next thing she saw was her boyfriend inaudibly addressing her father rather seriously. His hand gestures and facial expressions indicated he was dismissing him. It seemed to work. Her mother spoke again, but she didn't want to ask her what was said. Whatever she said made him walk away. Courtney's stress levels seemed to be more manageable as she waited on her family to enter her room. No less than a few minutes later Duncan and Lorena entered her room with her mother attaching herself to Courtney in a worrisome hug.

"My baby! Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay." She felt like she was comforting her mother more than anything. She patted her on the back as she gave Duncan a small smile while he let the two of them have their moment.

A doctor unfamiliar to Courtney followed along and introduced himself to her. "I'm Dr. Holt. Glad to see you're awake." He checked her blood pressure on a monitor before continuing. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine..." Courtney didn't feel comfortable with the diverse expressions strewn across the three of their faces. She turned to her mother who seemed to be eager to speak. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She couldn't tell the nature of her diagnosis that she hadn't received yet. Duncan seemed be to readying himself while her mother looked to the doctor for an 'okay' to give her the news. Doctor Holt nodded to confirm.

"Mija, you are pregnant."

Courtney looked up at her mom again, slightly embarrassed. She doubled-down on their discussion at the dinner party last weekend. "Mom, I told you to stop this in front of Duncan-"

"Baby," Courtney stopped and turned to him. He made eye contact with her and her face softened when his hand ran up and down her calf covered by the blanket. His eyes were reassuring as he tried to prepare her for his statement. "It's true."

Doctor Holt began to speak about how it's an early pregnancy, but any details disclosed by her doctor came and went as an abundance of thoughts pervaded Courtney's mind. She tried to pay attention to the advice he gave her. Manage stress, drink water, set a sleep schedule. She felt this news would be an added amount of stress to a mound caving in.

***

Courtney sat on a stool near Bridgette's kitchen island. She barely spoke out of nervousness, letting Bridgette handle most of the conversation.

"So, my test came out negative." Bridgette poured a hefty amount of wine into her glass. She held up an empty one to signal her offering Courtney some.

"Oh... I'm so sorry, Bridge." Courtney's nervousness raised after hearing the news. She noticed her nonverbal offer and tried to answer simply. "Oh, no thanks. I need to drink more water. Doctor's orders."

"It's okay. Maybe I was destined to have the exact problems my mom had. You know, I dread waiting for the results now. It's like I'm manifesting seeing only one line on that stupid, goddamned stick."

"Come here." Courtney pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back. The tears began to sting resting atop the brims of her eyes. Her initial reason for stopping by took a backseat in her mind. When they broke apart Bridgette immediately took to her defeated demeanor.

"I didn't notice before, but you look really worried. What's wrong, Courtney?"

"Nothing. I had something to tell you, but I don't think it's the right time."

"No... I ranted. Now it's your turn. It's not a friendship if only one person gets to unload their emotions." Bridgette reassured her. "Tell me."

"Okay." Courtney took a deep breath, instinctively clutching her stomach. "I just want to preface by saying I am in no means trying to make your day worse."

"...Okay..." Bridgette crossed her arms in confusion, but pointed to the hands on her stomach. "Are you...?"

Courtney nodded silently. Her expression became unreadable at her conflicting emotions. "Yes..." Tears started welling up into her eyes and she couldn't tell if she was happy or sad to bring those two words into her reality. She was practically whispering, hoping this change wouldn't bring any destruction to her realm. "I'm pregnant."

Bridgette smiled in shock. "Babe?? Congratulations!" Bridgette quickly brought her into a hug. Her reaction surprised Courtney given how upset she had been. "How far along are you? How did you find out?"

Courtney felt she should be smiling. She felt she should be incredibly happy at the fact. Instead a tear fell down her cheek. "A month. We just found out at the hospital." Courtney was adamant no one knowing about her stint at the hospital. "I only wanted to tell you, because I-I'm just trying to make sense of this and you're my best friend..."

Bridgette noticed Courtney was increasingly feeling less than thrilled the more she explained. "Are you keeping the baby?"

"We don't know, yet. Duncan was excited, but I'm just...- This was not my plan, you know? I haven't even finished school, yet. We can't afford a bigger place because I haven't started my career. This was supposed to come after. After the wedding, after school."

"I understand your feelings, and I'm with you no matter what decision you make. But, there's no set plan for life. Take a lesson out of whatever choice you make, and do what you think is best for all involved."

***

Courtney opened the apartment door and noticed a distinct smell coming from the kitchen. It reminded her of her favorite chicken her mother made for her and Kate when she got home from work early. She curiously walked into the kitchen to see Duncan in full chef mode. He greeted her

"Hey, babe. Are you hungry?  I'm making this recipe your mom wrote down for me the other day."

She only stood still as she watched him stir the contents of the pan.

There was nothing Duncan could get out of Courtney after the news broke about their pregnancy. She had completely shut him out for the rest of the week, burying herself in her homework, studying, and whatever else she could distract herself with. She couldn't look at him when they talked and her answers were shortened to simple, one-worded responses, or sometimes none at all.

He opened the refrigerator door behind him to fetch her a bottle of water. "Did you drink enough water today?" He held it out for her to take.

Courtney dropped her bag and rushed into his arms crying. this time she's wailing. Duncan is purely shocked; he's never seen her so emotional. He spent the better half of this week trying to get her to speak. But, he didn't expect this kind of response from her. He placed the bottle on the counter and wrapped his arms around her shoulders as he tried to console her in a hushed tone.

"Hey, hey, no... What's wrong, Princess?"

She was barely coherent, still sobbing over her words. "You're just... too nice. I haven't been nice at all ever since we found out. And you seem so ready and calm and I'm just neither of those things. What if I suck at being a mom? What if I can't make them happy?

"I'm calm because, one, I still wanted to treat you like I normally do. And, two, yes this is shocking news, but... it's you. if I'm gonna embark on this part of life, the only person I trust enough to do the best job is you." She faced him this time, still sniffling but calmed, and he continued.

"You're incredibly smart, ambitious, and beautiful. I'm cool, strong, and hot. Our kid wins the genetic lottery."

Courtney shook her head, half smiling. "Of course you'd point that out." She buried her head in his chest again, letting him run a hand through her hair.

"'Cause it's true," he said chuckling. "Whatever decision you make, I'm with you every step of the way. Okay?"  She nodded and he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. When they parted, he ordered her to relax in the living room while he continued cooking. In his mind, he knew everything would be alright; as long as he didn't burn the chicken.

A/N: hello and thank you for reading :) there will be more; hopefully soon. also

fatty=big butt don't worry duncan's not calling her a mean insult i swear lol

[y2fandom]

Spanish. — Diego Hargreeves

Summary: Diego decides to help (Y/N) after seeing her struggle with Spanish at the library.

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: Gosh it's been like, a million years since I wrote something pls go easy on me but feel free to tell me what you think feedback is always welcomed! (Also i lowkey based this of Sunrise from In The Heights so listen to it if you wanna)

I tried adding a read more but i don't have a computer so,,, yeah don't hate me if you come across this in your dash

—

Diego didn't frequent the library. He was honestly more of an action person than a sit-down-for-hours-reading person but he'd been stuck on a case and figured a little bit of background information wouldn't hurt. He'd come to find out not everything could be found out interrogating people on shady alleys. 

He just needed to use the computers, there was a very slim chance books would have the information he needed.

Diego went to turn on the machine when something stopped him. 

A groan. A deep and miserable groan followed by what sounded like thuds against wood.

Diego furrowed his eyebrows. He wouldn't have really minded if the noise hadn't come from directly in front of him. He stood up from the uncomfortable library chair to peer over the computer. 

There was a table on the other side and a lady had her forehead pressed against the wood. Diego would've thought she was asleep if he didn't witness with his own two eyes how she resumed banging her head against the table. It was a wonder how her book stayed propped while the furniture moved.

It wasn't his business, but he'd caught the cover of the book by mere chance. Spanish 101.

"¿Necesitas ayuda?" What was he doing? He just needed some information and that was it, yet here he was talking to a stranger. Selfish motivations, he told himself, I only want her to stop the noise so I can concentrate.

The lady rose her head. Her hair was disheveled from her previous attempts at becoming one with the table. She looked cute, if not a bit confused. She looked at Diego. 

He repeated his question. 

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I– sí."

Diego approached her table, slightly cringing to himself at how he looked. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in at least a week and he was dressed in all black. Not exactly a comforting sight.

"Name's Diego," he said, suddenly feeling awkward as she glanced up at him, "I saw you struggling with Spanish?" 

She nodded, a shy smile creeping on her face. "I'm (Y/N), sorry if i disturbed you with my suffering, I know it's a library and you expect silence-"

Diego chuckled. "What made you want to learn Spanish?" 

"I just wanted to learn a new language I figured it would be useful…" she trailed off, before adding under her breath, "if only it wasn't this hard."

Diego smiled. "I could help you, it's my mother tongue," or it would be, he added in his mind.

(Y/N) perked up at his suggestion. "You would do that?" 

Diego nodded, ignoring the thoughts about work and information. He could afford to help someone who needed him. Work could wait. 

She motioned for him to sit down.

"What are you having trouble with?" 

(Y/N) let out a humorless laugh. "Just about everything really."

"Do you know how to introduce yourself?" 

She bit her lip for a second before nodding, "Mi nombre es (Y/N), uh, soy (age)-" 

"Tengo."

"Right, tengo (age) años, me gusto aprender-"

"Me gusta."

She nodded, surprising Diego. He'd expected her to be annoyed or to ask for a different method.  Instead, she took his corrections in stride, applying them without any protest. "Me gusta aprender y conocer nuevas personas," 

Diego nodded. "You're very good, actually."

A pinkish tone dusted her cheeks. "You think so? I feel like I still have a long way to go and vocab is so hard-" 

"I'm a little busy right now," the way she seemed to deflate at that made him feel a pang of guilt, "but i can help you study some other time?" 

She brightened up again at the suggestion.  "Yes! That would be perfect!" 

"Do you have a number?" 

She handed him a small piece of paper after writing in it. "Call me when you can Diego." 

《 . . . 》

“No English?” 

Diego nodded. He was trying to stay serious but her shocked expression made the corners of his mouth twitch. “No ingles.” 

She whined. “But–” The look he gave her made her reconsider her wording, “pero Diego.” 

“No buts.” He gave her a look. “The best way to learn is to practice.” 

“Apesta,” she huffed. 

“Esto apesta.” he corrected, a smug smile in his face in response to her pout. 

“Bueno,” She sighed after a small silence, “I won't change your mind, right?” 

“¿Qué?”

“I won't-”

“No hablo inglés,” he deadpanned.

(Y/N) glared at him. “Tú hablas inglés." 

He smiled at her, proud that he didn't need to correct her. “Si hablo inglés.” 

“Tú eres el peor," she groaned. And he was the worst, but he didn't care if he got to make her smile and learn.

“You still like me that way,” he teased. 

Her cheeks tinted a lovely shade of pink but before he could comment on it her eyes gained a determined glint. "Quiz me." 

Diego ignored her blatant disrespect of the rules he'd set. "Are you ready?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Creo." 

"Esquina?"

"Corner."

"Tienda?" 

"Store."

"Bombilla?"

"Lightbulb."

"Are you sure?" 

She bit her lip, but nodded anyways. "I'm sure."

Diego smiled. "All correct."

(Y/N) mirrored him and smiled also, standing up in a swift motion. Yet whatever she had planned on doing was stopped by her phone ringing.

She gave him a quick glance before picking up. A few affirmative hums later she set her phone down. (Y/N)’s apologetic smile made his heart sink.

“Tengo que ir.” She seemed reluctant and it made Diego wish he had the words to convince her to stay. Instead, he said:

“Irme." 

(Y/N) huffed, but the smile threatened to return to her face. “See you later, Diego." 

And then she hugged him. Diego felt breathless for a second. She had never hugged him but she was doing it now. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. She was warm and smelled so sweet it made him want to never let go. Then, too soon it was over. (Y/N) pulled away taking the warmth with her.

She smiled up at him. “Hasta luego, Diego.” 

Diego watched her walk away.  wondering how she had managed to take with her the warmth of the embrace but not the fluttering feeling on his stomach.

《 . . . 》 

The sound of books being set on the table made Diego snap his head up. (Y/N) was wearing the biggest smile he'd seen on her and it made his stomach flutter. 

"Hola Diego," she said, her voice sweeter and lighter than usual. Every syllable made his heart do somersaults. 

"Hey."

"I have good news," she sing-songed, setting herself on the chair across him, "buenas noticias." 

Diego nodded, letting her continue. 

"He asked me out," she whisper-yelled, her eyes shining. 

Being the receiver of that look full of warmth didn't help Diego; he froze. "Wuh..?" 

(Y/N) pretended to hit her head. "Cierto," she said, "Remember I told you I had joined a class? To practice Spanish even more?" 

Diego nodded, he'd felt slightly hurt when she had announced it. It felt like he wasn't enough. But instead of saying that Diego had smirked and told her she had taken long enough. 

"Ok so, there's this guy in class, who I'm really into, his name is Marcus." The way she breathed his name felt like he was being stabbed with his own knives. "He's one of the most advanced people in the class and kind of the reason why I've wanted to improve so much in these last few weeks…" 

Diego felt like she'd just punched him on the gut. All this time a small part of him had harbored the hope she was doing so good because he was teaching her, not because she was pushing herself to be good for someone else. He looked down to his coffee before nodding at her again. 

"And now he's invited me on a date," she squealed, her smile growing bigger, "una cita." 

He nodded again. "That's, uh, that's really cool." 

Her smile softened. "¿Eres bien?"

"Estas." He corrected teasingly. Diego nodded. "Estoy cansado. I've been, uh, working late this last few days." 

Her mouth parted in a "o" shape, the same way it did any time he mentioned his vigilante work. (Y/N) looked at him with a serious gentleness that reminded him of how Grace looked at him when he was younger. "You need to take better care of yourself, Diego, please." 

How could he say no to her pleading eyes? Diego nodded. Getting ready to start their study session when his radio made a hissing noise. He glanced to (Y/N) and found her already looking at him. She nodded him to go. 

“It's important.” she reassured him in a hasty hug. "We can study later, go save em." 

He wanted to hate the way her voice made him giddy, he wanted to hate how he did a better job this time to make her proud of him, he wanted to hate that she had a date; but he couldn't. Diego was happy for her.

《 . . . 》

Diego waited in the agreed meeting spot. He cringed at himself at how fast he'd arrived, (Y/N) wasn't even there yet. He wanted to convince himself he wasn't far from the area but in reality, it was just that something seemed off. (Y/N)s voice had wavered a little when she'd called. 

The sound of a parking car caught his attention and he looked at it until someone came out of it. (Y/N).

His heart’s first instinct was to leap and his stomach burst in a million butterflies. She looked stunning. Diego firmly believed she looked good in anything but the way her outfit made her look almost made his jaw touch the ground. That was before he noticed her expression.

She smiled sadly at him, her watery eyes reflecting the lights of the street. It was almost like she could see him realize. 

“Hey.” 

“Are you okay?” Diego asked, concern thickly coating his tone.

(Y/N) went to nod but stopped herself. She opened her mouth and then closed it again.

Diego reached for her, engulfing her in a hug. “You can tell me."

(Y/N) was silent for a second and then, "how do you say pain?" 

Diego felt like she had a hand on his heart and she was slowly squeezing. "Dolor." 

"Tonight?"

"Esta noche."

She hesitated. "Stood up?"

Anger started to simmer underneath Diego's skin. "Plantada?" 

(Y/N) nodded against his chest. She look him in the eyes. the way the streetlight caught her tears made all the anger evaporate and be replaced by anguish. Who could've done something so rude to her?

She must've been able to read his expression because she said, "Marcus, he didn't show up." 

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)."

She laughed a little but there was no mirth behind the sound. "It's okay, it's not your fault." She sniffed, not bothering to pretend she wasn't crying. "It's lame but it hurts because I wanted him to love me—"

"Perhaps I do…"

Her eyes widened. "Diego?"

"Lo siento, (Y/N). I have feelings for you and i know it's not the time but I just wanted to tell you because it hurts seeing you feel unloved and-"

And she kissed him. Just a small, almost-on-the-lips-but-not-quite peck. (Y/N) giggled at his shocked face. 

"I like you, Diego."

Diego stuttered trying to find the right words to express what he was feeling at the moment. Nothing seemed to come out. Instead, he leaned over her and kissed her forehead. 

"It's guh-getting cold, let's get you home."

[yespolkadotkitty]

Fighting Blind, pt 19

Masterlist here ~ thank you @heatherbel​ for the beta!!

Warnings: shameless angst.

I sleepwalked back to my apartment. The noises of London made me jump at first, my movements jerky. Had I locked up the storeroom? The museum staff entrance? I didn’t know.

I didn’t much care.

I had lain on the floor of the storeroom for some time, clutching the axe. Sobbing my throat raw. Willing it to send me back to before. Willing it to let me look into Pero’s eyes just one more time.

Willing whatever magic that it had before to let me hold him, just for a moment, feel his heart beat, bury my face in his neck. Hear his voice.

Just one more time.

I didn’t remember taking off my filthy robes and changing into the spare outfit I kept in my locker for nights out. The nylon fabric felt incongruous; I’d become used to thick, soft robes. My bra chafed.

I let myself into my apartment. Everything was where I’d left it. 

My phone chirped in my bag and I pulled it out to see a text from Emma: Don’t stay too late! Reality TV beckons.

It was our little joke since she had introduced me to Ru Paul’s Drag Race, six months ago.

It felt like five lifetimes ago.

I put the phone to sleep, dropped my bag in the kitchen, and dragged myself to my bed, looking ahead of me but not seeing.

I lay down, fully clothed. The date on my bedside clock showed that here, almost no time had passed. I’d been deposited back to almost the exact moment I'd left.

My gaze was unfocused as I stared at the ceiling. My eyes reported back a view of the plain plaster, but in my mind I saw Pero’s last moments. The length of thick red ribbon around my wrist felt unreasonably heavy. I twisted the fraying ends with my right thumb and forefinger.

If I could have cried some more, I would have. 

I felt wrung out, a cloth squeezed too hard and then left out on the line until it sagged, dry as bone, moving only at the whims of the wind.

Eventually, I slept, and when I did, I dreamed of my husband’s big, soulful brown eyes, his scarred hands on my skin, the whisper of his melodic Spanish accent in my ear.

*****

I woke up in the middle of the night, shaking. My arm spread out across the cool, crisp sheets, reaching for the warmth of a broad Spaniard who had been killed in battle thousands of years ago.

I clutched desperately at a pillow that did not smell of him, and I waited for dawn to come, silent and dry-eyed, a husk of myself.

The next day, I called in sick. 

Emma left me six texts and three voicemails. Marco tried to call all afternoon. I ignored them both, and I stayed curled up on the bed, staring at nothing, hardly moving except for water and bathroom trips. 

Eventually, I slept. 

No dreams came.

*****

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a sharp rapping on the door jerked me from my half-sleep, half-grief stricken stupor.

“Fuck off,” I moaned to the empty room, my voice paper-dry, cracking. “You’re not Pero. He’s gone.”

The clock showed a whole day had passed. It was just after ten a.m.

The pounding got louder.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, got up wearing yesterday’s clothes. Walking felt like dragging my feet through a carpet of molasses.

I yanked open the door without checking to see who it was.

Emma stood on the other side, and she took me in with wide eyes, her lips parting.

“Um, oh my God,” she breathed, taking in my wrinkled clothes. I probably stank. “What happened? Flu?”

I gazed at her, my very best friend, trying to summon joy at seeing her face again, when I never thought I would. Instead, I just shrugged.

And then she moved forward and wrapped her arms around me, and I let my face fall into the familiar feel of her shoulder, and I cried.

Two cups of tea later, I had unloaded the entire story to Emma, who had listened without interruption, various expressions parading across her elfin face, but, who now almost certainly thought I had experienced some sort of intense mental break.

I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t.

“Well,” she said finally, with the tone of someone speaking to a very infirm person or a  baby; “You can’t go back to work in this state, can you?”

I gaped at her. “You want me to go back to work now?”

She tugged my hand until I reluctantly stood up from the sofa. “You’ve not got a lot of choice. There’s a man in the staff waiting area and he says he won’t leave until he sees you. Came all the way from America.”

My heart sank further still. I just heard America, not Spain.

Emma herded me into the bathroom, stripped me off as I stared sightlessly at the wall, turned on the water, shoved me under it.

I watched, unfeeling, until the spray hit the red ribbon around my left wrist, and then a cry raked up my throat, and I slid down the tiled wall, curling in on myself, pressing the damp wedding bracelet to my lips, wishing myself back in China. Back in Pero’s arms.

Wishing I could hold him just one more time.

Just one more time.

*****

Emma didn’t say much on the way to the Armouries. What could she say? From her point of view, her colleague had called in sick one day and  appeared to have suffered an intense psychotic episode.

I half sleep-walked off the tube, up to the museum. People passing probably thought I was taking very strong drugs.

Emma made me a very strong cup of tea, so strong that perhaps the spoon could have stood up by itself, and steered me to my desk chair. “Sit. I’ll bring the visitor.”

I stared into the mug. “Do I have to? Please don’t make me.”

Emma set her hands on her hips, her face creased in sympathy,  brow pinched with worry. “You can go home right after. I swear. Okay? You get one more day of whatever... this is, and then I’m taking you out on the town. London at our feet. Or, you know, twelve hours on the sofa, with popcorn and Ru Paul. Okay?”

I nodded, just to get her to leave.

Time passed; I wasn’t sure how much. I stared at my PC’s Welcome to the London Armouries screensaver, and wondered how much trouble I would get in if I hurled my computer out of the window.

Then I remembered I didn’t even have a window in this office. 

I smiled without humour.

A soft knock at the door made me look up. “Come in,” I called, with zero enthusiasm.

The handle turned, and I expected to see Emma, but I didn’t. What I saw made me topple off my chair.

A man with Pero’s face stood in the open doorway. His hair was lighter, cream caramel kissed with autumn, tousled. Scruff adorned his upper lip and the same strong jaw as Pero’s.

The same soulful, deep brown eyes.

The same striking profile, same nose I’d loved the hook of.

I stared at him as all the noise was sucked from the room. My ears rang.

He hurried over to me. “What the- Are you okay?” he asked in a husky-edged, drawling baritone, California with just a lick of Texas.

I stared at him wordlessly. My mouth opened and closed, until I finally squeaked out, “is this some kind of joke?”

The man stepped back, brows furrowed. “Funny. I’m pretty sure that's my line.” He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw, and that was when I saw it.

The circular mark on the root of his thumb. The depiction of infinity; the spiral, the serpent eating its own tail. Not black, like ink, but the colour of melanin.

My heart lurched into my throat.

This time when he offered me his hand, I took it. 

Our palms touched, and something electric chased down my arm. The stranger jerked as if I’d struck him, slapping his hands over his face as he reeled back, hitting the wall and sliding down it. I rocked back on my heels, staying on the floor.

He held his hands over his eyes for a moment that stretched, shaking, his shoulders hunched in.

When he finally looked at me, his eyes had changed. Darker, somehow. His mouth just a little scowly.

My heart jumped like it had been supercharged, because there was my Pero. I was frozen to my spot.

“The dreams,” the man said, very slowly. “I’ve been having these crazy dreams. But they’re.. memories, aren’t they?”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

“They’re my memories. But also… not mine.” He stared into the distance for a long moment, his face pale, wonder sketched on his features. “And this.” He ran the index finger of his right hand over the birthmark on his left thumb. “You did this.” His eyes sparked hazel fire, accusing me of this insanity.

And he was right. I had done this to him.

I held his gaze, my heart in my throat, heavy. “I gave it to you. Before.”

The stranger’s hand eased over his abdomen, resting where Pero had been gored open by Tao Tei teeth. “It feels… fuck, it feels real.”

I swallowed, my eyes burning, stomach bottoming out.  Tears streaked down my face and I let them come, my stomach cramping, and for an agonising moment, it was like losing him all over again. In my mind’s eye I saw the blood pulse from him, his life slipping away and me crouched over him, helpless to stop it. “It was real.”

We sat together in silence for, I don’t know how long. I both ached to touch him and feared it. Feared the modern texture of his open-flannel shirt over a white t-shirt. Feared the rough denim of his jeans.

And how would he smell? Not of lemon oil, leathers or woodsmoke. How could he?

“I’m Zach,” he said into the dragging silence. “Zachary Pero Wellison.”

My mouth dropped open.

Zach smiled lopsidedly, pushing a hand over his face. The face that was Pero’s, and yet, not. “So… I guess with the addition of…” He waved his hand between us. “...this, I’m sort of…. Both of us? I’m Zach, but I somehow have the memories of….. Pero.” He pressed a fist to his head and then popped his fingers in a “head exploding” reference. “Is this really happening, do you think?”

I laughed, without humour. “At this point, I don’t think I know.”

Zach huffed out what might have been a laugh. “The shrink sure as hell didn’t cover this in PTSD counselling.”

His deadpan delivery made me smile for the first time since I’d woken up back in 2019.

Footsteps sounded outside, followed by voices that lingered and then, after a minute, moved on. My gaze flicked over Zach, my stomach heartsick. Pero, my Pero, was in there, and yet, he wasn’t.

This was impossible. Everything I had ever learned told me what Zach and I were experiencing just did not happen.

But.

“You’re military?”

He nodded, shrugging off the shoulder of his flannel shirt and pulling up the right sleeve of his t-shirt to show me the bottom half of an intricate tattoo on his shoulder. “Semper Fi. Marines. Buzz cut grew out.”

I ate up the extra view of his body, greedy to know where he would be the same, and where he might be different.

“Glad I never saw anything like… the Tao Tei in Afghanistan,” he said shakily, a self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips.

I held his gaze. “It was an experience. Are you.. I take it you don’t still serve?”

“Nope. Three tours and an honorable discharge, two years on the street, but for the past five I’ve had a steady job. A roof over my head.” He summed up his life so flippantly; his delivery really reminded me of Pero’s nonchalance about death.

I sell my sword for coin, I sleep when fighting has exhausted me, and one day I will die and return to the earth. Simple, don’t you think?”

“Um, so... can I get you a coffee?” I asked, swiping my hands over my eyes. It felt like a monumentally banal thing to say seeing as this man now seemed to hold every memory my dead husband had ever clocked up, but I didn’t have anything else.

“Got any whiskey?” he half-laughed.

“I wish I did.”

“I’m good. Drank about a gallon of it at the hotel. Nerves. I, um…” He lifted those cocoa eyes to mine, and for a second, a heartrending second, it was Pero looking at me. My pulse tripped. “This is... fuck, this is a lot. I really…” He clenched his hands into fists, drawing my attention to that birthmark, the same lines, lines I had drawn, only in that brown shade of skin pigment. “I wanna touch you. Or he does. I don’t know. But… can I? Is that okay? I can’t think about anything else.”

Twin zings of excitement and fear skidded up my spine. “Um… okay.”

Neither of us moved.

Zach laughed nervously, standing. He towered above me as I sat in the corner next to my computer chair. I let my gaze travel up his body, long legs in faded blue jeans, a flat stomach under that white t-shirt, the lines of his torso delineated by the open plaid shirt.

His eyes were soft as he offered his hand again, palm out flat.

This time, when I took it, no lightning. Just a warm touch. His fingers sure and confident around mine.

He tugged me gently to a standing position, until we were only a foot apart, then he let our joined hands fall to our sides. We stood together like that for goodness knew how long, looking into each other’s eyes; his so familiar and yet so new.

Zach lifted his free hand to gently skim his thumb along my jaw, and just like that, the air changed. Each breath I took seemed supercharged as I gazed into his big, soulful eyes. “Zach,” I whispered, and it didn’t feel wrong.

He slowly lowered his head to mine, his eyes constantly flicking to meet mine, checking it was okay. Checking I was okay.

And then just before our lips met, a shudder went through him, and he whispered, “Cielo,” with just a hint of Spanish melody, and there was no way in hell he could have known that word unless-

And I yanked him down to me and kissed him with all the love and yearning and grief in my heart, and he kissed me back. His hands came up to spread over my back, and the warm, solid wall of his chest felt divine. 

Perfect. 

Bliss.

I opened for him, and he licked into my mouth, his teeth scraping just a little, and I welcomed the tiny hurt, pressing closer into his body. His lips were Pero’s lips, his little shaky inhale the way Pero would sometimes suck in a breath when we kissed. I shoved my hands beneath his open plaid shirt, felt the play of muscle on his back, under the soft t-shirt, and it was like holding Pero. I sobbed into Zach’s mouth and he drew back, frowning.

“Sorry,” I choked out. “I’m sorry. I -”

“I know,” Zach whispered, stroking my hair back. “I was there. He - I - loved you … He loved you. More than anything.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my lips together to stop them from trembling. “This isn’t happening. I would give anything to have him back. Anything. But this is… it can’t be real.”

Zach cupped my cheek, his eyes dark, stormy, and for a moment it was my husband looking at me. “Ask me something only he would know.”

I opened my eyes again. This was like living in an alternate reality of the film Ghost. But real. I felt the floor under my feet. I felt Zach’s palm against my skin, gun-callused, the same way Pero’s had been sword-callused.

“What did he say to me, when we... when I…” The words dried up on my tongue. Suddenly I didn’t want to share, which made no sense. “The first time,” I finished lamely.

Zach dropped his gaze from mine, a flush stealing over his cheeks. “Cielo. Heaven. I will not last,” he murmured, that Spanish melody sneaking, incrementally, into his tone.

My pulse spiked. 

No one could know that.

He met my eyes again. “Fuck. I know. This can’t be happening. But it is. Unless we’re both suffering the same delusion.”

I half-laughed. “Unless. God, Zach. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about…. all this.”

“I’m not. I wanted answers to these insane dreams, to the burning feeling on my birthmark, and however absolutely batshit those answers are... I had so many moments over in Afghanistan, wondering what I was fighting for... where my life was going. Always thought - it’s so stupid, but always thought I was just waiting for something. And maybe that something is you.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh, Zach.”

He smiled lopsidedly. “Whatever this is, it doesn’t feel like just my twisted little secret anymore.”

“I-” My heart pounded. “Secret. Oh my God, secret. The axe.”

Zach’s gaze shot to mine, wonder sketched on his handsome features. “I know how to open it.”

*****

I’d never run so fast before. I skidded out of the office, Zach on my heels, past some very surprised visitors and down to the artefact storeroom. I could only hope that no one had been there since the day before yesterday.

Zach stood silently by, but I saw his hands clenched into fists by his side as I swiped my keycard.

It was still there.

The door slammed behind us as I lurched on to the floor, picking it up, uncaring about being without cotton gloves.

Zach held out his hands, and I passed it to him. He gazed at it in wordless awe, his eyes poring over it, fingers stroking reverently.

Then he turned it over, pressed his thumbnail into the slice representing Pero’s scar in the carving on the bottom, and the handle turned, loosening.

I gasped in shock, surprise, joy.

Zach gently pulled the haft loose to reveal a shallow compartment in the metal handle, two pieces of parchment and a loop of crimson lying inside, like the finest of treasures.

With hands that shook, I took out Pero’s handfasting bracelet. The edges were frayed, the fabric so old it had discoloured, but it was his. I lifted it to my lips, felt my heart wrench from my body.

Zach had set the axe down and held the pieces of parchment in his palms. His eyes were wide as he breathed, “I wrote this. I mean, he did. But I remember writing it.”

I paused, the dusty, faded bracelet pressed to my cheek. “What?”

He showed me the yellowed parchment, the writing faded beyond recognition. “The words are almost gone. But I was there. I - he - wrote it while you slept. On the handfasting night.”

The world spun. I braced myself up on one arm. “Would you read it? Please.”

Clearing his throat, Zach closed his eyes, and to my amazement and joy, to my sadness and gratitude, Pero’s voice left his lips.

Querida

You sleep as I write this. My wife, in our bed. Your body and soul more beautiful than I could ever have wished for, in this life certainly. I am not good with words, mi vida, but you must know that you hold my old, scarred heart in your hands.

I think perhaps, you always have. 

If you are reading this then I have gone with God, but whatever He may have planned for my old bones, I will carry you with me always.

Until we meet again,

Yours,

Pero 

When he’d finished, tears streamed unashamed down my face, wetting my jeans. I couldn’t have cared less.

Zach’s face was drawn, too. He set the two pieces of paper aside and opened his arms, and without a second thought, I crawled into them. He rocked me gently, and I pressed my face into his neck, breathing him in; he didn’t smell of Pero, he smelled of rosemary and sandalwood and coffee, but it wasn’t wrong.

“Thankyou,” I whispered into his shirt. “Thank you, for letting my hear his voice, just one more time.”

Zach said nothing, just nodded. He understood. He always would.

We sat that way for I didn’t know how long. Eventually I roused myself. “Zach?”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. “It’s still me. I think,” he drawled, American again, but that husky-edged voice curled its way into my heart.

“What’s the other piece of paper?”

He lifted one arm to pluck it from the floor. “It’s… what is this language?”

I recognised the penmanship. “Oh my God, it’s Gaelic.” I scrambled off his lap, reaching for my phone. This piece of parchment had been wrapped inside the other, and the words had been mostly preserved. I took a picture of the text, uploaded it to the translation app a colleague at the British Museum had developed. While still in beta, it nevertheless contained many ancient languages.

Within a few moments, a translation appeared, and Zach and I gazed down at the screen as I read aloud:

Jade

The thought that this message may find you in a future many, thousands of years from now gives me pause, I must admit, but since fighting those… Monsters, I find nothing surprises me.

We gave your husband a warrior’s wake. That I swear to you. Lin saw to many of the details personally. After your rooms were cleared I found a note in his hand and I enclose it here.

We captured a Tao Tei in the days following Tovar’s death. We fed Ballard to it. A fitting end for such a waste of air, I think you’ll agree.

And after that, the strategists found the Queen. We think we’re halfway to learning how to be rid of them. Once and for all, I pray.

A year has passed since you and Tovar left me. As I write this, Lin sits beside me with our twins, Jade and Pero, named for the man who saved Lin’s life, and the woman he loved beyond the boundaries of time.

I don’t know what will happen when we die, but we will keep Tovar’s axe in our family as best we can. Lin says she trusts the spirits to take care of it, and after all I’ve seen here, I can’t disagree with her. 

She wouldn’t listen even if I did.

We miss you.

With love,

William Garin

*****

A/N: One more chapter to go on this journey. Thank you, thankyou, thankyou for all your love, comments, messages, reaction gifs, theories, THANKYOU x 1000000000. Thank you for indulging my insanity.

Tagging: @babybelou​ @theravenreads​ @vanillabeanlattes @alienprincesspoop​ @knittingqueen13​ @lackofhonor​ @holographic-carmen​ @thewayofthemandalorian @buckstaposition​ @thegreenkid @agirllovespasta​ @chews-erotically​ @apples-of-february​ @mstgsmy​ @songsformonkeys​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @buckysalefty​ @readsalot73​ @restingnurseface​ @opheliaelysia​ @emmy-dandiliom918​ @prdsdjarin​ @a-seeker-of-imagination​ @havenforafrazzledmind​ @badassbaker​ @thewaythisis​ @kindablackenedsuperhero @keeper0fthestars​ @starlight-starwrites​ @agentpike​ @alldatalost​ @littlemissthistle​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @stylelovechild​ @maryan028​ @seawhisperer​ @emesispo​ @beccaplaying​ @hdlynn​ @jaime1110​ @marydjarin​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @mrsparknuts​ @pinkzsugar​ @cutepurplehedgehog​ @ksgeekgirl​ @skdubbs​ @roxypeanut​ @usernameistooshort @tortles​

[youllneverknowrac]

Oscar Diaz-Moody (pm)

For @alight-inmydarkness

2:56 pm

You decided to make a late lunch, the boys complaining about being hungry since one o’clock. You agreed to cook, deciding that it would help pass the time. You had music playing, Oscar sitting at the table smoking a blunt while Cesar sat on his phone.

“You two could help me out.” You say as you let the oil heat up in the pan, everything you would need set out on the counter,”You always talk about how you were such an amazing cook.” You tell Oscar

“I am, but now I got a girl that will cook my meals for me.” He smirks,”Cesar.” He whistles to get his attention,”Go help her, I’m busy.”

“You’re smoking, that’s not being busy.” The little Diaz reply’s as he gets up with a sigh,”What do you want me to do?”

“Peel the potatoes and mash them up for me.” You order, going over to your boyfriend and standing in front of him,”Come help us.”

“Mami.” He groans, blowing out the smoke from his mouth

“Come on Oscar, you have nothing better to do anyway. It’ll be done faster if you help.”

“Lo sé pero no quiero.”

“Just like always.” You say with a eye roll,”If you don’t help you don’t eat. You can starve to death for all I care.”

“Stop it mamas. I’m getting up, where do you need me?”

“No, I’m not gonna force you to help us. I’ve been bored all day and just want to do things with you, but it’s fine. Go sit back down.”

“I want to help, I mean it. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’re just saying that.” You pout, picking up the raw chicken that was already seasoned and dipped in the batter,”You don’t love me.” You add as you place it into the oil.

“I do love you, even when your being a moody brat. So just tell me what to do.” He says as he stands behind you.

“I’ll tell you what to do, come finish this. I’m not going to listen to you guy’s.” Cesar says as he drops what he’s doing and hurry’s out of the kitchen.

“Well there’s you’re job.” You sniffle

“Are you sure you want to cook nena? We can order something in.” He says as he takes over his brothers place.

“No I do want to.” You reassure him,”I just wanted you to help me.”

“I’m helping. I’m here.” He says softly,”Let’s get this shit done so we can grub down.” He says amusingly, trying to get a smile out of you,”Me amas o no?”

“Obviously.” You mumble,”Hate that I love you.”

“Yo también te quiero, mi gordita.” Oscar smiles as he focuses on the potatoes, causing you to smirk and shake your head as you move on the another piece of chicken,”So are you gonna tell me what’s up with you today?”

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed I guess.” You huff,”Thanks for putting up with me, I still have a bit of annoyingness left in me though.”

“Oh I know you do...but it’s okay. Don’t forget that I’m the only one that’s ever gonna put up with your ass.” He laughs, the two of you working together through out the kitchen until everything is done. Cesar re-emerging from his room so you three could all eat together.

~

5:03 pm

“Mi niña hermosa.” Oscar says softly as the two of you lay in bed, laying in his arms as he strokes your hair,”Tomorrow will be a better day.”

After lunch you all tried to watch a movie, but you just couldn’t seem to get into it. Wanting to do anything but that...but nothing at all either. Oscar noticed you growing fidgety about half way in and decided to bring you to the bedroom to lay down, trying to console your moodiness away.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He says seriously,”Do you want to get up? Or stay here a little longer?”

“A little longer please.” You answer, burying your face in his chest and inhaling his scent,”Could we go to the pool tomorrow?”

“Anything you want mamas.”

“I want that, I want to go with you.”

“Then we’ll do that.”

“Can we take a little nap?” You ask him a few minutes later, already falling asleep as your eyes close.

“Shh, sleep mami.” He says, placing a kiss to the top of your head. Letting his eyes close as well.

~

7:11 pm

You’re startled awake by music playing from outside on the front yard, you slowly sit up and stretch. The spot next to you empty as you look around the room. You get up and slide your sandals on before exiting the comfort of your room, a bit upset that you woke up alone.

“You left?” You ask Oscar as you come outside, the yard filled with Santo members. Your boyfriend and his best friend on the raggedy old couch.

“I’m sorry, I woke up like ten minutes after I fell asleep.” Oscar says as he pats his leg for you to sit, which you accepted.

“It’s fine...Didn’t know they were going to be here.”

“What you’re not happy to see me Y/N?” Sad Eyez asks as from the other end of the couch.

“To be honest, no.” You reply smugly

“Ouch.” He laughs, Oscar chuckling in your ear.

“Y/N isn’t feeling good today, or not the two of you would have been gossiping it up by now like a pair of hynas in high school.”

“No doubt.” Sad Eyez laughs, the two of you always clicking up at any get together.

You force a smile and look around at the yard, wishing that nobody was here and that you could be alone with Oscar,”Can we go inside?” You whisper into his ear.

“Why mamas?”

“I just don’t want to be out here, I just want to be with you. Um, if you don’t want to it’s fine.” You tell him as you slide off of him and stand up,”I’ll be inside, you stay out here with your friends. It’s okay.” You tell him with a half smile, excusing yourself before heading back in and trying to find something to occupy your time with.

~

10:23 pm

“Can I join you?” Oscar asks as he enters the bathroom to find you sitting in the tub with soapy bubbles all around you.

“What about your friends?”

“They all left, now I can spend some time with you.”

“Oh, now.” You say as you gather some suds in your hands and blow them off

“Come on Y/N, I couldn’t exactly tell them to leave after just getting here.”

“Oh.” You repeat

“I’m getting in.” Oscar says with a eye roll as he starts to undress.

“Oh.”

Oscar doesn’t reply, keeping his comments to himself as he steps in behind you,”Scoot up.” He demands, sighing when you don’t move and wedging himself between you and the tub,”So mean to me mami.”

“You’re mean to me, you left me for your homies.” You retort quickly, leaning back against his chest.

“I was just outside...nah you’re right. I’m sorry, I knew you were having a shitty day and I chose to stay with them. I shouldn’t have done that to you mami.”

“I mean I did tell you to stay outside.” You shrug,”but still.”

“Yeah but I know you, and I should have known that you saying that meant to do the opposite.” He chuckles, his arms wrapping around your from underneath the water,”Me perdonas?”

“I guess.” You smile as you feel him press soft kisses to the side of your neck, a small laugh escaping afterwards. Never being able to be upset with him for too long since he was able to sweet talk his way out of things,”I hate you.” You say as your hand reaches up to cradle the back of his head so his lips can still work on your neck.

“No you don’t.” He smirks

“You’re right.” You say, a small moan following after as Oscar nips at you’re sweet spot,”I love you too much.”

“Hm, not as much as me.” He says as his hands wander lower. The two of you making the time fly by faster than it has all day.

~

11:55 pm

“Are you tired muñeca?” Oscar asks as the two of you once again lay in bed, the room pitch black as you hold each other.

“Hm, how could I not be after all that?” You giggle, the bath time running a bit over schedule. Oscar bringing your body to a wonderful high more than once.

“Had to make up for my actions.” He chuckles,”How did I do?”

“Oh you did more than make up for it.” You smile,”I forgave you after the third time.”

“And you still let me continue after that?”

“I mean you weren’t complaining and I sure wasn’t.”

“Yeah but my hand was cramping up and shit, and I got lock jaw after.” He laughs

“Alright I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” You offer,”After you give me an amazing day at the pool that is.”

“Deal...aye look at the time mamas. It’s a new day.”

“It is.” You smile as you read the bright red numbers on the alarm clock that read 12:01 am,”Yay.” You croak softly, your voice growing tired.

“Fresh start tomorrow, no worries. Buenos sueños mi amor.” His words being the last thing you heard before you fall asleep. All your emotions from today being slept away for a better tomorrow.

[multifandomfanfiction]

Mi Corazón es Tuyo

TITLE: ​Mi Corazón es Tuyo PAIRING: Spencer/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: The BAU are in Laredo, Texas on a case and an old friend of Kaitlyn’s stops by.

[A/N - I know Narcos takes place in the late 70′s/early 80′s, but for the purposes of this one-shot, it happened in the early 2000′s. So this is an AU for Narcos and regular for Criminal Minds. I kinda wanted to wait until I had finished Narcos to post this, so I googled to see how the series ended so I wouldn’t get anything wrong.]

Kaitlyn stared at the crime scene photos pinned to the board, trying to find some connection.

They were in Laredo, Texas chasing a serial arsonist, who also liked to take one victim hostage.

“Careful there, cerebrito (brainiac). I can practically hear the gears turning in your head.”

Kaitlyn spun around. Only one person had ever called her that in her life.

“Javi!” she screamed. She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. Her team watched the interaction between her and this strange man, including Spencer. “Oh my god, what are you doing here?” she asked him.

“I could ask you the same thing. Heard your name around town.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s your family’s annual get together, isn’t it?”

“Um, I’m actually here now. Permanently.”

“Oh. Well, how’s your father?”

“He’s good. He’s good.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before Javier looked over at her team.

“Are you going to introduce me?” he asked.

Kaitlyn blushed. “Oh! Right!” She led him over to her team. “Guys, this is my good friend Javier Peña. Javi, meet the BAU.”

“THE Javier Peña?” Emily asked, “As in the one who helped take down Escobar and the Cali cartel?”

“One in the same,” Javier said. He didn’t really like to talk about his time in Colombia.

In fact, Kaitlyn avoided the subject altogether.

“How do you know Katy?” Morgan asked, ever the big brother.

“We met when I was down in Colombia,” Kaitlyn explained, “I was on vacation and Javi here saved me from being shot. We’ve stayed in touch ever since.”

“You were almost shot?” Spencer asked.

“Uh, yeah. Guess some of the cartel guys heard an FBI agent was down there and decided to try and kill me. You know, the usual stuff.” Kaitlyn said it so nonchalantly that it worried Hotch. She did the same thing when it came to close encounters on the job.

Maybe this was where it had originated from.

“Hey, I’ve gotta be heading back, but I’ll see you later okay? We’ll catch up,” Javier said, “Don’t work too hard.” He kissed her temple and she playfully shoved him away from her.

“Estúpido (Asshole),” Kaitlyn muttered.

Javier winked at her. “Pero amas cariño (But you love it, sweetheart).”

When Kaitlyn turned back around, her entire team was staring at her. “What? Let’s get back to work.” She walked back up to the board.

“You didn’t think it was a good idea to tell us you have a friend who worked for the DEA?” Hotch asked her, quietly.

“I’m sorry, Hotch. I honestly never thought you guys would meet.”

“We’ll discuss this later.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kaitlyn met Javier a few days later before they left for Quantico.

“I hope you know I’m in deep shit with my supervisor,” she told him, “Although did I complain when all that shit went down with Emily? No.”

Javier laughed. “I’m sorry. If I had known that would get you in trouble, I wouldn’t have just shown up. But I couldn’t resist when I heard you were in town. Big guy didn’t seem happy to see me, though.”

“Big guy? Oh, you mean Morgan? He’s just protective. He’s actually exactly like you. Sleeps with anyone he wants to, no strings attached.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s going on with the guy with the long hair?”

“Spencer? What about him?”

“Oh come on. I noticed the way he looked at you and the way you were trying so hard not to meet his eyes.”

Kaitlyn hit Javier on the shoulder. “I’m supposed to be the profiler, not you!”

“So what’s the story?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Got a job in the BAU, met Spencer, end of story. But enough about me, what about you? Any women in the picture?”

“Miel (honey), there’s always women in the picture.”

Kaitlyn laughed. “You don’t ever change, do you Peña? What about Steve and Connie? They still together?”

“Of course. Went back to Miami after everything blew over.”

“You two still keep in touch, right?”

“Of course. He wasn’t just my partner, he’s my brother.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t transfer to Mexico.”

Javier shook his head. “I’m done with Narcos and Sicarios. Bebita (baby girl), I don’t work for the DEA anymore.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I found out some stuff that caused a huge scandal, so they asked me to resign.”

“Oh my god, Javi. I’m so sorry.”

Javier shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m back working on my father’s ranch.”

“My Mexican cowboy. Sexy.” Javier smiled.

Kaitlyn’s phone started ringing. “Hello?”

“Hotch said we should be good to go in about ten minutes. We’re just waiting on you,” Spencer told her.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon then.”

“I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d exchanged “I love you’s” but it never failed to take Kaitlyn’s breath away. “Yo también te quiero (I love you too).” She heard Spencer laugh.

“I don’t know what that means, but I gonna assume you reciprocated.”

“I did, idiot. See you in a bit.” She hung up and saw Javier smiling at her. “Shut-up.”

“C’mon. Don’t want you to miss your flight.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kaitlyn nearly did miss her flight thanks to security not wanting to let Javier through.

The security guard had to call Hotch and get clearance from him first.

“Idiotas (Idiots). I’m fucking FBI! I hope they know I could have them fired in a heartbeat!” Kaitlyn snapped, pulling her luggage out of Javier’s Jeep.

“Fácil allí pequeña mama (Easy there little mama). Don’t break a nail.”

“Shut-up Javi.”

He hugged her. “Hey, take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

“And when you and that boy get married, I want an invite, do you hear?”

Kaitlyn’s cheeks burned. “Yes, hermano mayor (big brother).” She kissed him on the cheek and hurried onto the jet. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine, Kaitlyn. We wouldn’t have left you behind,” Hotch told her, “Wheels up, everybody.”

Hotch went to the back of the jet to call Jack, Rossi and Morgan were sleeping, JJ and Emily were talking quietly, and Spencer sat next to Kaitlyn.

“You and Javier never did anything, did you?” Spencer asked her.

“Reid, if you have to ask that question then you don’t know me very well.”

“It’s just…you two seemed pretty close.”

“And we are. Spencer, Javi is just the Mexican version of Morgan.”

Spencer thought about that and then started laughing.

“And besides, mi corazón es tuyo.”

“Gonna have to translate.”

“My heart is yours. Always has been and always will be, Spencer.”