#Acres N Inches

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 2: What's Cookin' Good Lookin'?

Summary: After you meet Javier Peña giving a presentation at your elementary school, you get ready to meet him at your co-worker's backyard cookout. You just hope that he remembers you.

Warnings: Mentions of Javi's past with the DEA, mentions of grief/death, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of blood and needing first aid (nothing major), Javi taking care of you, allusions to sexual tension, you being a sarcastic asshole and Javi being too smitten to care

Word Count: 8.5K

A/N: Shout out to Chucho Peña for being the G.O.AT. And Javi putting his DEA first aid skills to the test. Thank you for the likes and reposts! These two are fun to write.

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Javi couldn’t think of the last time that he had turned on the radio in his truck. It had practically gone untouched since he had returned home to Laredo. But today, on his way back to the Sheriff's Department, he had put music on full volume the whole drive. His brain overflowed with images of you. Your smile, your laugh, God, the way you looked in that damn dress. The sweet smell of you still lingered in his mind as you had gotten only inches away from his lips. “See you on Saturday.” If he had known that today’s trip would have ended like this, he would have become the damn D.A.R.E representative of the office. He was so consumed with thoughts of you, that it wasn’t until he had passed City Hall that he realized he had driven by the Sheriff's Department 15 minutes ago.  

“How’d it go, Peña?” Javier could barely take 3 steps into his office before Carter was already at his door. “You sure look happy.” 

“Hey, look who made it out alive!” A 2nd voice chimed in from outside the office door, Carter’s partner, Detective Miller.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be that bad! Was the hot one there that I told you about? Jesus, I’d go back to do that stupid ass presentation again just to see her.” 

“God I hope she was, she must have been out sick the day I went because all I got were 3 middle aged ladies and disappointment.” Carter and Miller laughed to each other. 

“Definitely would have paid way more attention if she was my fuckin’ teacher, god damn, she is a hot piece of a-” 

Javier was no stranger to his co-workers checking out women on the job, hell, he was guilty of it too. But there was something about the conversation that made his stomach churn with jealousy. 

“She’s got a fucking name, alright? Don’t talk about her like that.” Javier snapped, leaving the two men standing in his doorway stunned. Given his reputation, Carter and Miller thought Javier would be quick to join in on the banter. 

“Jesus, sorry man. Just trying to have some fun.” The two backed out of his office, not expecting such a reaction from him. Carter was just about to open his mouth, hoping to gain some intel from Javier’s trip, but before he could, Miller gave him a silent shake “no”, gesturing to get the hell out before Carter did something else stupid to piss their boss off. 

Despite his interaction with Carter and Miller, Javi spent the rest of the day in a surprisingly good mood. 

Fuck, did he feel… happy?  

It obviously wasn’t a look that Javier wore often, considering that as he left the office for the day and gave a smile, accompanied by “Have a good night!” to the office secretary, she looked up at him with legitimate concern and asked if he was okay.  

Dust swept around his truck as Javi pulled down the dirt driveway to the front of the Peña ranch. The quaint house was nestled amongst acres of farmland, sat in front of a well loved barn where the horses were kept. The porch was lined with a colorful arrangement of flowers and figurines, all lovingly placed by Lucia, and even more lovingly tended to by her husband, Chucho, who swore his best to keep her garden alive after she no longer could. 

The front door let out a faint squeak as Javier made his way through, taking off his shoes and setting down his things before making his way over to the fridge. Reaching at the handle to grab a beer and something to eat, he saw the bright yellow sticky note placed at eye level as he bent down. 

Javi, 

It’s Wednesday. I’m with Las Vengüenzas (The Embarrassments) for cards. Will be back around 9. There’s leftovers in the fridge. Símon is being an ass today. Watch out. 

Love, Pops 

Chucho Peña was notorious for leaving notes everywhere around the house. Javi was pretty sure if he didn’t make a bi-weekly trip around the ranch, the entire thing would be covered in yellow post-it notes. 

After inhaling half of a leftover sandwich, and finishing off his beer, Javi slipped on his boots and made his way out to the barn to round up and feed the horses for the night. Before accepting his new position at the Sheriff's department several months ago, Javi spent the beginning of his time home from the DEA working with his father on the ranch. When he came home from Colombia, he didn’t really have a plan. Just that he couldn’t take working for the DEA any longer. Even after he had leaked the dark, unsettling truth of what had happened with the Cali Cartel and made a point to politely tell the DEA to fuck off, Javi would still receive the occasional call asking him if he would consider coming back to help fight the drug war raging across the border in Mexico. The request to fuck off got less and less polite with each call. 

Still, Javi felt unsettled resigning himself to a life of ranching forever. His body had proved to him that he definitely was not as young as he once was, and he couldn’t help but miss the fact that what he was doing held some sort of significance to make things better. 

When Dean Morris approached Chucho about the new training position opening up for the department, he told the elder Peña that the office was willing to do just about anything to have Javi be a part of their team. No field work, normal office hours, pay raise, and good benefits.  Just providing his expertise and knowledge to new recruits and staff about strategies to stop trafficking across the border. Javier had considered the option of telling him to fuck right off too, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt like an idiot to pass something like this up. He felt guilty leaving his position at the ranch with his dad, but his father assured him “If I could do it all these years while you were gone, I’d sure as hell look like a fool if I couldn’t keep doing it now. Don’t think you’re still getting out of helping while you’re around, though. You can promise your old man you won’t leave me too high and dry. ” 

So here Javi was, making good on his promise. As he opened the gate to the barn, 2 of the horses trotted up to him immediately, knowing that it must be close to dinner time. 3 more slowly followed, leaving one left for Javi to corral. 

Where the hell was he? 

“Son of a bitch.” Javier muttered to himself, noticing that the last horse he was looking for was all the way across the field, perfectly content where he was standing. Chucho was right, Símon was going to be a pain in the ass today. 

“Símon! Get your ass over here! I’m not going all the way out to get you!” 

Nothing. 

“Fine, starve to death, see if I care.” Javi had a sweet spot for animals, but Símon’s unruly antics tended to make the horse an exception to the rule. 

Javi turned his back and made his way to the other 5 horses choosing to give him much less of a hard time. Javi filled the troughs with food, leaving the horses happily munching on their dinner. As he got one last scoop from the bucket to place into the trough, a soft muzzle bumped its way under the scoop, causing the food to fly everywhere. Símon let out a loud whinney, mocking Javier for letting out a startled yell and dropping the remainder of the food all over the floor of the barn. “Stupid ass horse…” Javi grumbled. 

As Javi ventured his way back to the house, several more lights had been turned on inside the house, signaling that his dad must be back from his weekly cards night. 

Kicking his boots off on the back step, Javi greeted his father. “Hey Pops. You were right about Símon. Pendejo scared the shit out of me and knocked a whole scoop of food out of my hand.” 

“Well from what I gather, it seems like that’s a small tarnish on what otherwise seems to be a pretty good day.” Javi could hear the delight in Chucho’s voice from around the corner. He had forgotten that both Maria and Estelle’s husbands were a part of Chucho’s card club, and were probably both delighted to gossip to their husbands about their eventful day at school. 

Javi joined his father in the kitchen, pulling out a chair from the dining room table and plopping himself in it. “Word travels fast, I guess.” 

“Not fast enough for Maria, apparently. She called me as soon as she got home from school to tell me about today. She was delighted to see you, and even more delighted to tell me that apparently you’re now joining me for the cookout that you very adamantly told me you weren’t going to.” Chucho raised his eyebrows and smirked. “I heard she’s a sweet girl.” 

Javi rubbed his hand across the width of his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Pops, listen, it’s not that big of a deal, I just met her today. She seemed nice.” 

“Must be a little more than just nice if you’re willing to go through the ringer your mother’s friends are about to put you through on Saturday.” Chucho now delighted in the fact he could tell Javier was becoming increasingly more sheepish as the conversation continued. “Ah, the things we do for love…” 

“Dad, listen I-” 

“I know, I know, you just met her. But let me tell you hijo, I knew from the moment that I laid eyes on your mother, she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. The fact that you’re volunteering yourself to talk with your friends and family you’ve been avoiding since you’ve been home just for another chance to see her? She must be something special.” Chucho sighed, and made his way past Javi, extending his arm out to pat him on the shoulder as he passed by. “I just want you to be happy, hijo. Sounds like today was a good start. Well, this old man is off to bed, I may not be beautiful, but I sure need my sleep. Good night, Javi.” 

“Night, Pops.” 

Chucho retreated to this bedroom, leaving Javi alone in the kitchen. Javi stared at the pictures hanging on the wall across from the table. His gaze traveled across the wall noting the variety of framed photos. Him as a toddler in nothing but a cowboy hat and diaper, his mother and father standing next to him holding his diploma from his high school graduation, and Chucho and Lucia slow dancing together at their 25th wedding anniversary party. Javi smiled at the joy and happiness radiating off their faces in the photo.  

Today was a good start. 

You were convinced that time could not have moved any slower than it did between Wednesday and Friday. Exhausted from the end of the school year excitement, you were sure that even a constant IV coffee drip was going to be enough to keep you alive for the next few days. The only thing keeping you going was Saturday. Specifically, Javier Peña. 

Your week became a little more bearable in the moments in the staff lounge you got in between inhaling your lunch, listening to your co-workers drabble bits of information about Javier and the Peña family. You tried to absorb as much of it as you can, without trying to sound too over-eager or ask too many questions. On Wednesday, after your encounter, you asked at lunch how the ladies knew Javi. From there, you had learned that his late mother used to work with the rest of the 3rd grade team before passing about a decade ago (And had been inseparable up until then), he had started his new job at the Sheriff's department a few months ago after returning back to Texas (but you couldn’t figure out where or why he was gone), and they were definitely not a fan of some woman named Lorranie (you weren’t sure why on that either, but the look on their faces told you Lorranie was bad news). If there was one thing your co-workers loved to do, it was talk. While you were happy it provided you with some intel about Javi, the thought of what these ladies had been saying about you behind your back was also petrifying. 

Some way or another, you finally managed to make it to Friday at 4:00 PM, students now all gone from your classroom and headed home for the weekend. With the few ounces of energy you had left, you began to gather your things from your desk to pack up and head out with the promise of Saturday finally on the horizon. 

As you were turning off your lights and closing the door behind you, the 3 Amigas of 3rd grade came strolling up behind you. 

“So, mija, are you excited for tomorrow?” Maria said, giving you a playful nudge in the arm as you joined the group of ladies walking down the hallway towards the parking lot. You could already feel your cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. Of course you were excited for tomorrow. The thought of seeing the tall, broad and handsome man that was Javier Peña was the only thing you through this week. His deep brown eyes, the way his shoulders stretched the back of his navy blue suit, his hands? You had only known this man for less than a week, yet the image of him flooded your brain every day since you met. Not to mention the fact you hadn’t been on a first date (or anything even close to that) since you met Paul almost 3 and a half years ago. It was only now that you felt the nerves swirling around in your stomach, realizing tomorrow you were actually going to see him again. 

“Yeah, I’m really excited! I’ve been looking forward to it all week. I’m uh, actually kind of nervous though.” Your voice began to trail off as the women looked at you with a smirking suspicion. You quickly elaborated, trying not to make it too obvious the reason why you were worked up was because of the one person you were most looking forward to seeing. 

“You know, because this is my first big party I’ve been to since moving here, and I don’t know a lot of people, and want to make a good impression and-” 

“You’ll know us” Linda cut you off with a smile. 

“You’ll know someone else there besides us old broads, too.” Estelle winked. 

“Mija, there is nothing for you to worry about. Just be yourself, and I’m sure that everyone there will love you. Anyways, we’ve already put in a good word for you, so I wouldn’t be too nervous. ”

“Maria, leave the poor girl be! She’s a tough cookie, she can fend for herself!” Linda retorted. She could tell from the look on your face that this conversation was turning out to make you more anxious than expected. “It’ll be a fun time, mija. Drive home safe and we will see you tomorrow.” 

The 4 of you waved and said goodbye as you parted ways to your cars scattered across the parking lot. As you sat down in the driver’s seat, you couldn’t tell if you were covered in sweat from the hot, Texas sun beating through the windows of your car, or because the idea of tomorrow had you a hot mess. 

Your apartment was finally starting to feel like home. Pictures of your family hung on the walls, furniture finally delivered, contents of moving boxes unpacked and put away. You were a little too Type A for your own good, and while for the most part, your boxes had been sorted and organized you still didn’t feel settled until everything felt like it had a place. The last thing left to put away was a box marked “CHICAGO” that had sat in the corner of your living room, long after its counterparts had been sorted to their rightful home. You had told yourself that you needed to finally face unpacking this box before the school year came to an end, and with your countdown at 4 days, time was starting to run out. 

After you had finished putting away the contents of your school bag, you changed out your work clothes, tossing them in your hamper and rummaging through your dresser to pull out a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized Chicago Cubs shirt, its logo faded and fraying from all of its wear. On your way back to the living room, you passed through the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. If given a choice, it was always Miller Lite. Growing up with 3 older brothers, it was the beer they would sneak you sips of when your parents weren’t looking. It was the beer you drank in college, knowing that a night drinking most liquors would send you to an early grave the next morning. It was what you drank almost every night for months after finding out you had wasted years of your life with Paul, who couldn’t be bothered to give an apology for what he had done to hurt you. If there was one thing you were, it was a little too stubborn for your own good, and you and Miller Lite had a history you weren’t willing to part ways with now. 

That lead you back to public enemy #1- The “CHICAGO” box. You saw crossed legged on the floor as you rested your hand on your face, the other bringing the beer to your mouth for some liquid courage. The thing that frustrated you the most about this stupid box was that you knew exactly what was inside it. You could probably name where the contents were positioned inside the box. But every time you came close to ripping the packing tape off, you found yourself frozen in fear. If you opened that box, you would be admitting to the fact that when you were faced with the toughest moments in your life, you chose to run. Run half way across the country without looking back. And that- that made you feel a sense of cowardice that hung heavy on your conscience. You’d like to think that you were strong, determined, willing to stand up for yourself. But when it mattered most, you were none of those things. You were far from it. 

So here you were again. You and that damn box. After this week, you didn’t have it in you to intensify the staring contest you had started with an inanimate object, and the prospect of tomorrow was enough to ruin your mood over a stupid container full of things. Exhausted, you sat yourself down on the couch, curled up in a blanket and turned on the TV to watch the next NHL Playoff game. 

There were a lot of things you loved about Texas, but their lack of enthusiasm for hockey was a bit disappointing. When people asked you some of things you missed most about the midwest, a hockey fix was at the top of your list. Growing up with 3 older brothers who all played, you were convinced you came out of the womb with skates on. You were also convinced the need to keep up with your brothers is what fueled the fire for your overly competitive nature. The only downside to your love for hockey was when it came to dating. Being around your brother’s teammates, you constantly heard “how hot it was” or that it was “so sexy” when girls knew about hockey, or sports in general. In reality, whenever you brought up your interest on dates, it backfired. It turned into “Well you only know about it because of your brothers” or “It’s weird that you play hockey, that’s too manly.” One man once made the mistake of taking you on a first date to a skating rink thinking it would be cute to teach you how to skate, until you lapped him several times as he wobbled like a baby deer, and made him storm off in anger because a girl was better at skating than him. His loss. 

Taking another sip of your beer, you could feel your eyelids growing heavy as you leaned your head further and further into your couch pillow. Despite trying your best to stay awake, exhaustion and comfort swept over your body, as you were lulled to sleep by the sweet sounds of cheering and bullhorns coming from the TV. 

It wasn’t until you were greeted by a sharp, stiff pain in your back that you realized you had fallen asleep, curled up on your couch, not even making it into bed last night. You grunted and rolled over to look at the clock hanging above your kitchen counter 

10:13 AM

Shit. You were definitely not planning on sleeping in this late. The cookout wasn’t until 2:00, and all you had on your to-do list was to shower and get ready, but the last thing you wanted was for anything to make you late for something you had been looking forward to for the past 3 days. 

After taking what you so lovingly deemed the “3 hour shower” (washing and conditioning your hair, shaving, and scrubbing down every inch of your body), you stood wrapped in your towel, staring at your open closet.  You swiped through several pieces, throwing them down on the bed, bracing yourself for the personal fashion show that was about to ensue. 

Almost an hour later, and half your closet now scattered about on the floor, you were convinced that if you had woken up at 7:00 AM you still would be crunched for time trying to pick out an outfit. What the hell does someone wear to a casual cookout full of a bunch of people they don’t know, and one really hot one that they want to get to know better? 

After a few more combinations, you ruled out shirts and shorts, worrying that you were going to look too informal amongst a group of strangers. You dug back through your pile of dresses, trying a few back on hoping to find a solution. At 12:30, you landed on a baby blue sundress covered in small, white and pink flowers. Considering it was going to be 89 degrees today, you figured the spaghetti straps and knee length cut would be acceptable. It made you feel confident, and even a little sexy. After almost an hour of trying to toe the line between cute and casual, you threw on the dress and give yourself a quick run down in the mirror. Not half bad. You spent the last bit of time in the bathroom finishing your hair and a little bit of makeup, a routine you had down to a science, followed by swearing at yourself under your breath as you shoved the explosion of clothes on your floor back into your closet. 

As you gathered your things, you took one final deep breath for reassurance as you headed out the door and down the steps to the front of your apartment building. You had been to Maria’s house before for her Cinco de Mayo party, recalling directions and that it wasn’t too far of a walk from your house. The whole way there, your hands were balled in fists squeezing your fingers, fueled exclusively by your increasing anxiety as you got closer and closer to Maria’s house. Knowing the social butterfly Maria is, you shouldn’t have been shocked by the massive number of cars lining the street leading up to her residence. As you walked up to the back gate of the house, you took several deep breaths before mustering the courage to make the trek down to the party. With each step across the hot cement of the sidewalk, your brain swirled with questions 

“Is he already there? Is he actually excited about seeing me too, or do the ladies at work just feel bad for me and they’re trying to make me feel better? God, does he even remember that I’m coming or who I am? Fuck, was this dress even a good choice? What if I’m way too dressed up and he thinks I look like an idiot? Jesus, I hope they have alcohol at this thing. 

Your heart raced as you approached the gate to her backyard, with a sign in bright, colorful letters that read “Fiesta this way!”. As you pushed open the gate, you were greeted with the thick scent of meats cooking on the grill, followed by upbeat Latin music and chatter amongst the guests. When you looked around, you were greeted by a sea of unfamiliar faces. You began to walk further into the crowd when a tight embraced wrapped around you from behind. 

“MIJA! I’m so glad you came!” Maria’s familiarity gave you a slight sense of relief. “Listen, I have to go help with the food, but there are lots of drinks in the cooler so help yourself, food should be up in about half an hour! Not everyone is here yet, but if anyone comes looking for you, I’ll be sure to send them your way.” Before you could make any attempt at a comeback, Maria winked at you and escorted herself back to the porch to continue setting up dinner. 

Taking another sweep around the backyard, you made your way over to the drink coolers sitting on the side of the house, when you felt a tug at the bottom of your dress. Surprised, you turned around to see a small freckly face staring back up at you.  

“Extoose me. My big bwother says dat your his teacher and dat sometimes you pway with dem at weecess and dat dey weeelllllyyy want to pway baseball but none of da other gwownups will pway and dey need someone to pitch. Will you pweeeeseeee pway wif us?”

Looking up, you noticed a small group of kids gathered in a cluster now smiling and waving at you. 

“Hi, Alex. Hi, Sophia.” You waved back at two of the kids you knew from your class. “You know it’s okay to come ask me to play, you don’t have to send your little brother.” 

Alex looked at you with a sincerely confused look on his face. “I didn’t know if we were allowed to talk to our teacher if they’re not at school.” 

Sophia slapped him with the wiffle ball bat. “Of course you are, stupid. Teachers don’t live at school. They do real people stuff too.” 

“If I’m so stupid, why didn’t you ask her, Ms. Know-it-all?” 

As the two continued to argue, you took another look around at the party. With the familiar face count only at 3 (being Maria, and Estelle and Linda who you had waved to from afar), you realized that your choices were to either go converse with people you’ve never met, stand alone awkwardly, or go play baseball. The choice seemed easy enough. 

“It’s okay you guys, I’ll play with you. Only for a little bit though, okay?” 

The kids cheered as they placed a bag full of wiffle balls in your hands, glad to have an adult that would be able to throw a semi-hittable pitch. The kids took turns lining up to bat, as you threw towards them. Giving a little extra encouragement to the ones who needed it, you high-fived each kid as you let them have a “homerun” by running as fast as they could around the backyard. Noticing your collection of wiffle balls had dwindled down to zero, you sent the group of kids to scatter around the backyard to collect as many as they could. As you bent down and reached your hand out to pick up one of the balls close to you, a much larger hand set itself on top of yours. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve played, but I don’t think the pitchers are supposed to go out in the field to collect all the balls.” 

Shifting your gaze upwards from the grass, your eyes traveled up the length of the figure standing before you. Tight, dark washed jeans, followed by a white, short sleeved button up, that exposed the tanned skin of his chest. Next, a strong jaw and mustache, and deep, chocolate brown eyes that had lived vividly in your memory since first seeing them a few days ago. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have figured that you’re a teacher by day, MLB pitcher by night.” 

You shrugged your shoulders and mischievously rolled your eyes. “Damn, you caught me. My secret is ruined!” 

Javi shifted the hand that was on top of yours under your palm, engulfing your hand in a gentle grasp, pulling you up to a standing position. 

“Thanks.” you blushed as you brushed your hands down your sides to flatten your dress. You watched as Javi’s eyes darted looking you up and down, his tongue darting out to lick across his bottom lip. 

“Can I uh, get you something to drink?” Javi asked. Noticing that his hand was still holding yours, he shifted his weight and tried to casually place his hands on his hips. 

“Yeah, a beer would be great. Unfortunately, I don’t think they allow players to drink on the field, but it looks like they called someone in from the bullpen to take my place so I should be in the clear.” You both laughed, looking over to see that none of the kids had seemed to care that you had gone missing, and someone else had gladly taken your place as pitcher. 

“I’ll be right back.” As you sat down at the edge of an empty picnic table on the patio, you couldn't help but gawk as Javier’s back turned to yours, revealing just how tight his jeans were and how broadly his shoulders stretched. His trip to get both of you drinks was prolonged by several people coming up to him, either shaking his hand or patting him on the back. You were curious why so many people had such an interest in Javi, and why he didn’t look thrilled about it. 

After a few minutes, Javi made his way back to you, two beers in hand. “Well, you sure seem like a popular guy, Mr. Peña.” He slid your drink across the table to you, letting out a small scoff at your comment. 

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve been home.” He looked around as if he was checking to see that no one else was coming up to bother him. 

“It’s okay, you don’t need to apologize. Do you mind me asking where you were?” You took a sip of your drink, and traced your thumb along the condensation of the bottle. 

Javi shifted in his seat and continued to look around. “I was uh, I was in Colombia working for the DEA.” It was his turn to take a much longer drink than the one that you just took. 

“Oh shit, like the Drug Enforcement Administration DEA?” 

“Last time I checked, that was the only DEA I knew of.” He looked down at his beer and let out an uncomfortable laugh. You had seen plenty about the happenings in Colombia on the news the past several years. Needless to say, none of it was “feel-good” content. Working for the DEA was one thing, but if he was down in Colombia? He would have really been in the thick of it. Putting two and two together, it now made sense why his trip to get you both drinks had taken so long. 

“Well, um, it does sound like a really interesting job. If you ever want to talk about it, I would love to listen. But I totally get the whole feeling uncomfortable when everyone thinks you’re a hero and wants you to tell them everything when all you want is to not talk about it at all.” You reached out to place your hand on top of his and give him a reassuring smile. He looked back at you with crinkled brows and genuine confusion. You could almost feel his demeanor shift, like you were the first person who had ever considered trying to understand how he felt about the situation he was in. “My dad was a firefighter, I had 2 brothers who were in the military and another brother who’s an EMT. Obviously it’s not fair to compare anyone’s jobs, but they always hated how everyone else felt entitled to their heroism when a lot of the time, they felt far from it.” 

He swallowed and clenched his jaw as his puppy dog brown brown eyes locked with yours. No one had ever even bothered to consider the fact that Javi had no interest in talking about his past. That the last thing he felt like was a hero, that he regretted the things he had done. Yet here you were, holding his hand, reassuring him he didn’t owe you anything. He opened his mouth to speak. 

“It’s okay, really.” You reassured him once more. “The one thing I do want to know…” Your voice trailed as you took another sip of your beer, Javi’s face once again shifting to concern “is how much Maria has told you about me, and how much damage control I need to be doing.” Breaking the silence, you and Javi both laughed to yourselves. You watched as the tension seemed to dissipate from Javi’s body.  

“I could say the same thing. If it makes you feel any better, the only thing I know about you is that you just moved here not that long ago from Chicago, and that Maria was very insistent that I would be an idiot if I tried to do anything to mess up my chances with a gorgeous girl like you.” 

“Well the first part is true. I moved here at the end of December, so that’s what? 4 months now? And yeah, I’ve lived in or just outside of Chicago my whole life, so it’s definitely taken some adjusting. The 2nd half seems like a bit of an exaggeration.” You had never been good at taking compliments, but you could feel your cheeks flush. 

“Damn, Chicago to Middle-of-Nowhere-Texas? That’s a big move. The 2nd part is definitely not an exaggeration in the slightest. You look…” His eyes shifted over you once more, biting down on his lower lip. “You look beautiful in that dress.” 

“PEÑAAAAAAA! How have you been?! Mierda, it’s been too long, amigo!” A clearly drunk party  goer was standing next to you and raised up a hand holding his beer, extending it towards Javi. As he continued to stumble toward Javi, he lost his balance, and the glass beer bottle he was holding slipped from his hands, shattering on the cement patio. Glass shards and beer foam went flying on contact, and your shin was in the way of the cross fire. 

“Jesus, that hurts, shit!” Looking down at your leg, you watched as blood dripped from the point where a piece of glass lodged its way into your skin. Javi looked like he was about to murder whatever drunken idiot had stumbled his way over to him, but before he could, he had already rushed around to the side of the table you were sitting at. You tried to get up  to get a better look at the damage, but Javi firmly grasped your hips and ran his hands down the sides of your thighs to sit you back in your seat. Well, being insanely turned by a man trying to help you get a piece of beer bottle out of your shin was a new first. 

“Don’t move. I don’t want the glass to shift around anymore and make the cut worse.” His hands still hadn’t left your thighs. 

“Javi, I’m fine. I can walk.” You began to stubbornly protest. You tried to hide the grimace on your face from the pain you felt as you began to stand up again. “Seriously, it’s fine, I’ll go find some first aid stuff and- OH, okay?!” 

Before you could finish your sentence, Javi had scooped you up like it was nothing and was carrying you bridal style towards the house. Your head rested against his chest, coming face to face with unbuttoned flaps of his shirt. His scent overwhelmed you, somehow smelling even better than when you bumped into him just a few days ago. The thumb of the hand that was holding you beneath your legs traced back and forth across your knee. 

“This seems a little unnecessary, don’t ya think?” Trying to hold it together, you looked up at Javi. 

“You’re not gonna make this easy on me, are you?” He looked down at you and shook his head with a slight grin on his face. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

Javi made his way through the crowded patio to the sliding glass door that led into the house. 

“DIOS MIO, WHAT HAPPENED?!” Maria shrieked, her face darting between you, Javi, and the blood running down your leg. 

“I don’t know what to tell you Maria, the baseball game back there got pretty heated. Those kids are ruthless.” Your sarcasm clearly did not go over well, as Maria’s expression was now flooded with confusion and panic. 

Javi rolled his eyes. “Tell Don he needs to get his drunk-ass together. He dropped a bottle and it shattered, some of the pieces flew into her leg. I’m guessing the first aid kit is still in the upstairs closet by the bathroom?” 

“Yes, mijo, but-” 

“No, Maria, she doesn’t need to go to the hospital, I’ll take care of her.” Boy, have you never been so excited about being injured. 

“I don’t know, Maria, I think I’m dying!” You flopped one of your free hands up to your forehead, doing your best to look like a tragic Renaissance painting. 

You could tell Javi was trying his best not to laugh, knowing that Maria was already halfway to dialing 911. “She’ll be fine, I promise.” 

Javi used his hip to slide open the door, leading you through the kitchen and up the staircase. All jokes aside and adrenaline subsiding, you were now beginning to realize how much pain you were in as your legs jostled while Javi carried you up the stairs. You scrunched your face and bit down on your lip to try and ignore the pain, but it wasn’t doing much. Javi looked down at you, noticing your face. 

“Hermosa, are you okay? We’re almost upstairs, I’m sorry about that pendejo.” 

“Yup, I’ve never been better. I feel great, actually. LOVE having this piece of glass stuck in my leg!” You noticed your sarcasm meter was probably getting a little too high for the situation. “No it’s okay, thank you. You didn’t have to do this.” 

“Well, I wasn’t gonna let you bleed out on the patio.” As you crossed the threshold of the upstairs bathroom, Javi shifted you in his arms and sat you down on the top of the bathroom counter. He gave the top of your knees a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be right back, don’t move.” He made his way out of the bathroom, hearing him rummage around through the closet in the hallway. 

“Do I really have a choice?” You heard him chuckle from outside the door. He came back holding a first aid box and a few towels and squatted down in front of your leg dangling off of the countertop. 

“You help women take glass shards out of their legs at barbeques often?” You gestured down at the first aid kit, noting how fast he had found it. 

“Surprisingly, you are the first.” Opening up the kit, he pulled out a few supplies. “I spent a lot of time playing here as a kid, and definitely went through my fair share of band-aids.” Carefully, he placed one of his hands around the back of your leg, pulling it closer towards him. You were surprised that with hands as big as his, he was incredibly gentle. 

Trying to downplay your pain, you looked down at him and asked, “What’s the prognosis, Dr. Peña? Do I get to keep my leg, or are you destined to carry me everywhere for the rest of your life?” 

“As much as I would love to, I think you’re gonna make it out okay.” He plucked a pair of tweezers out of the kit and looked up at you with remorse. “I’m gonna pull it out, but it’s probably gonna hurt. Is that okay?” He rested his free hand on top of your thigh. “You can squeeze my hand if you need to.” 

Without hesitation, you released the hand that was gripping the edge of the counter so hard, your knuckles were turning white. You slowly interlaced his fingers with his, his thumb stroking back and forth over the side of your hand. 

“Okay, whenever you’re ready.” You said, beginning to squeeze his hand tighter. 

“Okay. 3…2…” 

“FUCK! Agh, so much for 1?! Holy shit, that hurt!” You were trying everything in your power to hold back the tears welling in your eyes, trying to be as tough as possible. 

“I could say the same for my hand. Jesus, you’ve got a death grip, hermosa. I’m surprised my fingers aren’t broken.” You released his hand as he laughed and shook it out, now using both to rummage through the first aid kit again. Pulling out some gauze and tape, he carefully wrapped up the cut and tied up the bandage to hold it in place. He was so attentive making sure that you were properly bandaged up, that it wasn’t until he heard your small sniffle that he looked back up at you, noticing a small tear streaming down your face.

Generally, you prided yourself on being pretty damn tough. Growing up with brothers, you learned to play rough and deal with the consequences. More importantly, you hated crying in front of other people. Trying to quickly regain your composure, you tried to subtly wipe the tears off your cheeks, hoping Javi wouldn’t notice. Slowly, he rose up, placing one hand on the counter just outside your hips, the other coming up to your cheek, using his thumb to brush away the wetness under your eyes. 

“I promise I’m not a baby, this shit just really hurt.” You said, trying to defend yourself. His hand cupped the side of your face.

“Cariño, you don’t need to apologize.” He leaned his body in closer to yours, your faces now only inches away. “You’ve been un soldado, if anything.” 

“A what?” You were surprised your brain even had the capacity for questioning at this point. 

“A trooper” Javi leaned in closer, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “So much so, you’re making it hard for me to try and take care of you, considering how damn stubborn you are.” His words whispered down the side of your neck, followed by another kiss. You could feel your heart racing, your breath becoming heavier with each word. Slowly, his body shifted down between the opening of your legs, his hands wrapping around your injured calf, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your bandage. 

Your mouth hung half open, praying that your brain would concoct a half coherent sentence. Your hand traveled down to brush the top of Javi’s soft, curled hair, forcing his gaze to shift back up to you. “Last time I checked, I don’t think doctors are supposed to kiss their patients” 

He stood back up, both hands now cupping your face as he leaned in and whispered, “well it’s a good thing I’m not really a doctor, am I?” Your mouths met with a magnetic attraction. His hand had now slipped behind your head, raking his fingers through your hair as he pulled you in closer. Your hands that had been grasping the edge of the counter as a form of self control now freed themselves, grasping around Javi’s biceps, reciprocating the closeness you craved. Your body lit up with an electricity that no kiss had ever made you feel before. His hands began traveling down your body, his intensity causing you to let out a small, breathy moan. Your legs slowly wrapped around the small of his back, pulling him tighter. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs as his hands grasped the meat of your thighs as they slowly slid their way under the hem of your dress. 

“JAVI?! MIJA?! IS EVERYTHING OKAY?? DO I NEED TO CAL 911?? THERE BETTER NOT BE BLOOD ON MY BATHMAT, I JUST WASHED IT.” 

Both out of breath, your mouths parted as Maria’s shrill voice carried up the stairs. You had blacked out for the last few minutes, forgetting you were sitting on top of your co-worker’s bathroom counter, door wide open. Javi rested his head in the crook of your shoulder as he whispered “God dammit, Maria…” under his breath.

“Impeccable timing on her part, to be fair.” 

“IF YOU DON’T RESPOND I’M COMING UP THERE AND CALLING THE AMBULANCE!” 

“All good, Maria!” You shouted down, Javi’s face still resting by your neck. “Dr. Peña told me it was a close one, but I’m  gonna make it out alive.” You both giggled. “We’ll be down in a second!” 

“Are you gonna clear me to walk, or am I getting carried again?” You said, giving him a playful nudge.

He gave you a quick kiss. “Just take it easy okay?” Grabbing your wait, he lifted you up and helped you off the counter. He gestured his arm towards the doorway. “After you.” 

After you had hobbled your way down the stairs, you and Javi found empty patio chairs along the fence of the yard. After you had sat down semi-comfortably, Javi started making his way back toward the house. “Drink?” He said, looking back at you and continuing his stride. 

“As long as you don’t drop it on me, absolutely.” 

You were shocked by how quickly the next few hours went by as you sat and talked with Javi. The conversation flowed between you effortlessly as you covered the basic conversations, like your likes and dislikes, favorite things and families. You had even worked up the nerve to tell him how you ended up in Laredo after you broke things off with Paul. Now a few drinks in, your liquid courage had you diving in deeper. 

“So, tell me this, Javi. You are arguably one of the most handsome men I have ever seen. You nursed me back to health from what was clearly a life or death experience, and you have impeccable taste, besides the fact that you haven’t seen Raiders of the Lost Ark, or Star Wars, or E.T., which I will forgive you for, as long as you do good on your promise to watch it with me. You have also proven to be an exceptional kisser. How the hell are you still single? Is there something I’m missing? Are you like, secretly married and have a family, a serial killer, wanted by the FBI, are the people at this party a part of some sort of secret cult that’s gonna kidnap me?! C’mon, there’s gotta be something?!” 

Javi coughed on the beer that he had just sipped down his throat. “Jesus quierda, no! What would make you think that?” 

“You seem too good to be true, there’s gotta be a flaw somewhere, c’mon!!” 

“Well, I’m gonna take the high road and assume you’re not any of those things, I could say the same about you. This is most fun I’ve had since being back home.” 

You raised your eyebrows and gave him a questionable gaze. 

“I’m being serious, hermosa.” You could feel in his words that he meant it. 

“Well I’m glad. This is the most fun I’ve had in a really long time too.” 

You sat in a comfortable silence. Looking around, you noticed that not only had the sun gone down, but the once bustling backyard had now dwindled down to only a few party goers on the patio and a small crowd inside. The last thing you wanted to do was leave, but you also didn’t want to be walking alone at night, half hobbling from your injury. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry, believe me, the last thing I want to do right now is leave, but I probably should start waking home before it gets too late. Not a huge fan of being a woman walking alone in the dark, ya know?” 

Javi quickly set down his beer. “You were going to walk home?!” 

“What, I’m not allowed to walk?! I don’t live that far, and it won’t take that long, I’ll be fine!” You crossed your arms in defiance.

“The shuffle across the yard I watched you take to go to the bathroom an hour ago says otherwise. Hermosa, let me drive you home, please?” 

Too in pain to prove a point, you let out a huff of defeat. “Fine.” 

“Thank you. I know you CAN do it, but I will carry your stubborn ass back before I let you walk. Here.” 

He extended his arm out to help pull you out of your seat. He followed your lead taking slow steps across the yard, leading you out to the street where his truck was parked. Before you could argue, he opened up the passenger side door and lifted you up into the seat. “Just gotta get the keys from my pops and then I’ll be right back. 

“What if I try to make a break for it?” 

“It won’t take me long to catch you.” 

“Touché.” 

Javi closed the door behind him as he headed his way back into the house. Watching him in stride, you really needed to thank whoever made those jeans. 

Javi found his dad amongst his friends at the kitchen table inside, talking and laughing amongst themselves. “Hey Pops, can I have the keys?” 

Chucho took a sip of his beer and looked around at his friends. “Seems like things are going well then, huh?” The men chuckled to one another. “She’s very cute, Javi. Seems like she doesn’t put up with your Mireda either, I’m surprised she wants to spend more time with you!” 

“Well she lives close and walked here and after Don’s clumsy ass still broke a bottle in her leg, I’m not gonna let her walk home. Believe me, I was worried I was gonna have to carry her.” 

“I’m giving you a hard time, Javi. Here, take the keys. Don’t worry about me, I’m sure one of these fine gentleman will give this old man a ride home.” 

“Thanks pop.” Javi took the keys that were outstretched in his father’s hand. As he began to walk back out to the car, he grabbed Javi’s arm. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile like you have tonight. It’s a good look on you, hijo.” 

[definitelynotstable]

Matching [Ghost x fem!Reader]

AN: My essay is due tomorrow at 5pm and I still haven’t started. I’m really trying my luck here. 

Synopsis: You and your Lieutenant manage to get matching wounds. A certain Scottish sergeant finds it amusing. Word count: 930 Warnings: Canon compliant violence, blood, guns, field medicine etc Ghost x fem!reader (callsign Red): No explicit romance but the chemistry is there babes. Veeeeery slight angst but mostly fluff. 

[][][][][][][][][][]

“You’re an idiot,” the Lieutenant gritted out as he tore your pant leg. If you hadn’t been so out of it you might’ve found it hot.

“Save the lecture for later, LT.” You groan as he wraps his belt around your upper thigh, pulling it tight as a makeshift tourniquet. “Suffering enough as is, yeah?”

He mutters something intelligible under his breath, shaking his head as he gives the belt one last tug. You hiss in surprise, batting weakly at his firm grip. He defends himself easily, shoving your arms back against your sides.

“Hold still,” he growls sternly and you still your wriggling. His eyes sharp and hard. No room for argument. 

Bullets thud and ricochet off of the crate the Lieutenant has dragged you behind. Happy with the tourniquet, he settles you against the wall, leg stretched out in front of you. 

“Stay.”

You scoff at the order but do as he says. Ghost turns his back to you, inching forwards to fire a round back at the hostiles. There’s a yell and a thump. The constant fire ceases. The Lieutenant edges around the crate, gun poised. 

“Bravo, this is Ghost. Main atrium is clear.”

“Copy, LT. We heard disturbance through Red’s comms, you seen her?”

You reach for your comms before the Lieutenant has a chance to reply. “I’m with the LT, nothing major, Gaz.”

Ghost scoffs, you glare at him. 

“Copy that, Red. Moving in now, LT.”

Ghost nods, hand against his ear. “Copy. We’ll cover you.”

You press your hands against the cool brick behind you, stumbling to your feet. You grab the ACR leaning against the wall next to you, slinging it over your shoulder. 

“Think you’ll last, sergeant?” The Lieutenant’s eyes are questioning, watching as you limp over to his side. He’d call EXFIL if you even gave him the slightest indication you couldn’t soldier on. 

So you grin, giving the stoic man a clap on the back. “We’ve got a terrorist to catch, LT.”

[][][][][][][][][][]

The Lieutenant’s pace is fast and unwavering. Bodies fall and bullets ping as you clear the hallways of the compound, providing cover for Bravo team who were attempting to secure the HVT. 

“On my six, Red.” Ghost barks, sending a round into the second atrium. The room is teaming with hostiles. Your leg throbs with a heartbeat of its own but do as your asked while the Lieutenant readies a flashbang. He lobs it into the room, ducking around the corner to take cover. You step past him, firing a couple of rounds at the flailing hostiles. 

A classic stun-’n-gun. 

Ghost joins you, providing cover as you together clear the room. 

“Bravo this is Red,” you pant in exertion, pressing a gloved finger to your comms, “second atrium is clear, copy?”

“Copy.” Soap’s accent is strong as he responds, “Target acquired, heading to EXFIL now.”

You raise your hand to reply when you catch a movement out of the corner of your eyes, a hostile on the floor fumbles for his gun. Someone barrels into you. Pain flares through your leg you hit the ground. You manage to send a bullet into his skull, the man slumps back, dead.

Ghost groans from where he lies atop you. You grit your teeth, shoving him over. “Christ, LT. Buy a girl a drink first.”

The Lieutenant huffs, clutching at his leg. “Noted.”

You notice the crimson soaking his right thigh, swearing under your breath and ignoring the pain in your own leg, you bat his hands away. Loosing your belt, you work it up his leg; just as he’d done for you earlier. 

“Eager to match, hm?” You joke, pulling the belt tight around his upper thigh. Exactly where his own belt sat on your own leg. Ghost doesn’t make a sound but his jaw clenches beneath his mask. The blood flow slows and you sigh.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He breathes, clambering to his feet, “Johnny’ll have a right laugh when he sees us.”

You nod, breathing sharply as you put pressure on your leg. Ghost takes note immediately, kneeling back at your side. He grips the belt around your own thigh, meeting your eyes with a questioning gaze. You bite your lip but give him quick jut of your chin. The Lieutenant gives the make-shift tourniquet a sharp yank and you yelp, grasping his shoulder to prevent yourself from falling over. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, squeezing your calf for a second before dusting off his hands and returning to his feet once again. 

“Don’t worry about it, LT,” you assure him with a quick quirk of your lips, “matching, remember?”

[][][][][][][][][][]

Soap’s guffaw as he spots you both stumble towards the heli is music to your ears. 

“Now this’ll be a good story,” he chortles, racing over with Gaz who wraps an arm behind your back. Soap deposits Ghost in the seat opposite you, kneeling at the Lieutenant’s side as Gaz kneels at yours - a medkit open beside them. 

You sigh, resting your head against the rattling metal of the chopper as it starts its ascent. Your tired eyes meet Ghost’s, his cobalt irises twinkling. The Lieutenant pulls his mask up slightly, revealing his smirking mouth.

“Told you,” He mouths before yanking it back down, mirroring you and leaning back as Soap cuts away at his pant leg. 

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the tired smile from settling over your lips.

[][][][][][][][][][]

Masterlist

[briyourmotherdown]

cool water ★ part I

James Hetfield x fem!reader

★ everyone is running from something ★

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: i know nothing about arizona and it shows. VERY incorrect timeline. mentions of rehab and alcoholism. james is a moody prick. 18+ in the future but part I is PG minus some swearing.

A/N: so i'm asking you all, please, PLEASE be kind to me because this is the first fic i've written in well over a year and the first metallica one I've ever posted. this is so unbelievably self indulgent it's insane. title named after a marty robbins song because that's where this whole idea stemmed from. i tried not to use y/n because i know some people hate that jhskjfhkjhfthftdhftkj. also i really really hope the fact that rehab is in here isn't a trigger or upsetting to anyone!!! it just makes sense for the plot. it's also very inspired by the some kind of monster documentary. this will probably be a shorter fit made up of a few parts but it may take a while since i'm literally about to graduate uni and i'm drawing in assignments. anyways i hope you enjoy <3

parts: (1), (2)

★

  A few states over, a little over a thousand miles and a few days long trek away, lies a life– packed crudely into a beat up Subaru with too many miles on the metre to go about adding another thousand. The air conditioning unit cracked out one state back, leaving only the rolled down windows to offer any sort of reprieve against the Western American summer heat. The unknown lies in the interstate ahead, yellow lines and road signs guiding you closer to your next destination. Only the front windows are open, the rear windows obstructed by precariously stacked belongings in unsealed cardboard boxes and garbage bags balanced against the glass. To roll them down would mean losing a good chunk of your clothing. 

   A map is sprawled out open on the passenger seat, red lines and circles marking the last stretch of your journey into Yuma County, Arizona. Golden light pours over countless acres of sprawling farmland ahead of you, the setting sun glaring into your eyes beneath your sin visor as you drive with one hand on the wheel and the other propping your head up against the open window. Your yellow Subaru is the only vehicle for miles, alone on the barren road as the sky fades into an inky blue. It’s eerie, being this alone. Eerie as you turn down yet another country lane, rolling the windows up. Eerie as you make sure the doors are locked and the gas tank full. Eerie for a girl who’d only left the city twenty-four hours prior, where such silence and solitude was such a rarity that you never stopped to consider what it felt like to actually be completely alone. 

   The night is still when you reach a stop sign, the hiss of crickets and cicadas audible even from inside the car. There’s no breeze that rustles the trees, nor a cloud to taint the clarity of the starry night sky. You feel as though you should be quiet and hold your breath, goosebumps raising on your skin. They only begin to subside when your headlights illuminate a sign reading Palo Verde Ranch. 

   Tires kick up dust as you roll down the tree-lined passage, inching closer and closer to where you will spend the next summer, checking the map one more time and breathing a sigh of relief when the trees part way to an opening. The ranch and lodgings look the same as the pictures in the brochure you were given, apart from being shrouded in a heavy darkness from the night. The porch lights are on, along with a few lamp posts circled by moths and mosquitoes. Pulling into an empty space next to a pick-up, you kill the engine and rest your head back against the headrest. The roar of the crickets seem even louder as you sit silently in the driver’s seat. 

   With a few final taps on your steering wheel with your fingers, you heave yourself from sitting position and stretch your aching legs, lifting your arms above your head before grabbing your suitcase from the backseat and forgoing the rest until tomorrow. It’s far too dark to go about it now. Boots crunch on gravelly dirt as you make your way to the lodging house, reading the brochure once more to check where the key is kept. It lays underneath a small terracotta pot, placed upside down and completely indiscrete. It makes you smile to yourself when you lift it up to examine it against the porch light– a small, metal cactus keychain hanging from it. You smack a mosquito from your arm as you unlock the door. 

   With a creak, the door opens up into the lodging house, though to you it seems more like a bungalow that had been converted into some sort of bed and breakfast. There’s a small kitchen to your left, under-cabinet lights casting an amber glow over the linoleum countertop and laminate floors. You take note of the humming refrigerator before turning to your right to examine a quaint sitting area, equipped with a floral printed sofa straight from the 1970s and a chestnut bookshelf housing a sparse assortment of books and magazines. It reminds you slightly of a waiting room– pretending to be lived in as to put you at ease. 

   Straight ahead lies the hallway, two doors on the left-hand side and three on the right, one of which has been left ajar. Upon further inspection, with slow, easy steps, you come to realise that it’s the bathroom, nose scrunching up slightly at the prospect of having to share one bathroom with multiple other people. On every door is a hand painted number, accented by flowers painted on in pastel colours. Very Bohemian, you note, eyeing the beaded curtain that hangs in the windowsill of the window at the end of the hall. Dim light spills from underneath doors three and four, but the other two remain dark. 

   Your room number is two. 

   Opening the door, you flick the light switch on before closing it behind you, a small puff of air escaping from between your lips as you take in the room. It’s cozy– genuinely, unlike the sitting room from before. It nearly reminds you of the room you’d grown up in, or, at least spent the earliest years of your childhood in. A golden oak bed sits against the wall in one corner of the room next to the window, fitted in cream and pale green floral patterned sheets. There’s a dresser-vanity and a wardrobe of the same golden oak, and a small nightstand next to the bed. On it beneath the small tiffany lamp lies an unopened note and a small plush teddy bear. 

   Tears fog your eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed and drop your suitcase at your feet. It feels so familiar– like a distant memory of a time in your life where things weren’t so turned upside down. A time when you weren’t running from something. Clutching the teddy bear against your chest, you open the note– a sweet, handwritten one from the owner of the land, welcoming you to your home for the summer. It tells you of breakfast in the main house at 10am, that there are fresh towels in the wardrobe, and that the vanity drawers tend to be a bit fiddly. 

   With a watery sigh, you blink up at the ceiling to clear your cloudy vision, flopping backwards onto the bed.

★

   James knew that he needed a distraction. 

   He knew better than to be around all the same people and places from how he was before. Breathing the same California air he knew and once loved now feels too thick in his lungs, like some sort of poisonous gas. 

   He knew better than to be around reminders. 

   Due to his therapist’s orders, James was to go somewhere different for a little while. In his words, to “relax, be at one with nature”. He had spread a pile of pamphlets across his desk, closing his eyes and laying his pointer finger down on the first one it came in contact with. Arizona didn’t seem to appeal to James’ bandmates as much as it did to his therapist. They had a hard enough time communicating as is, too many alcohol-fueled yelling matches only worsened by the unmade upcoming album that loomed over their shoulders. James wasn’t sure how he could make the album to begin with, not while he was walking this tightrope. If he was constantly teetering on the edge, how could he be a productive member of the band? 

   Part of him didn’t want to go. Running away from it all felt cowardly, as though he’s weak for not being able to handle what once was so normal. A few drinks at the bar with friends turned into something else, something monumental. Gigs, rehearsals, afterparties, bar to bar to bar to bar. People who once gave him comfort now only serve as reminders of how he has ended up. 

  His PA booked his flight and had his truck sent to meet him at the airport. His intentions were clear– he would spend a few months working on the ranch away from anything that might tempt him, and then he would return home in autumn and attempt to clean up the mess he had left behind. The mess in question haunted him on his flight, tension aching behind his eyes as he rubbed at them. Divorce papers. A band that might hate him, left hanging and waiting for him to get his shit together so that they can release another album. Loose ends, after loose ends. Mouth set in a straight line, he realises he’s clenching his fists, blunt nails pressing into his palms. 

   Settling in was fairly easy. There was only one suitcase to unpack, clothes folded neatly into the dresser and notebook placed haphazardly on the nightstand– blank paged and unopened. For a few days it was only him in the lodging house, resting and rising in silence, eating a bowl of cereal by the kitchen window before heading out to work on the ranch with Wayne, the owner’s husband. Wayne is a shorter man, or at least much shorter than James, with salt and pepper hair he keeps hidden beneath a straw hat, and a laugh that often turns into a smoker’s cough if your joke is good enough. Wayne is friendly and a hard-worker, unafraid to put James to work too. 

   A few days later, a couple more lodgers began filtering in, two men who based on their accents, come from the south. They didn't spare James a second glance, and James gratefully did the same in return. There was no need for making friends.

   When you arrived it shook up his routine. He now had to wait for his morning showers, entering only after you had spent far longer than he would’ve liked, only to be met with fogged up mirrors and the scent of vanilla and jasmine. He could hear music playing gently through the thin walls, some shit from the 70s that he wasn’t into, and he’d have to put up with the way you’d softly hum along. Truthfully, he avoided bumping into you at all costs. There was no concern of seeing you at breakfast or dinner– he skipped them in favour of some cheap crappy microwave meal– and he worked more on the ranch with Wayne while you settled into tending the vegetable garden. 

   Avoiding you seemed like a waste of time, however, because you didn’t notice him anyway. You always seemed too lost in your own head, focussed entirely on pulling weeds to notice him walking back and forth by you, carrying bags of feed. He didn’t offer a greeting, or even his name, but then again neither did you, and he was more than happy to keep his distance. 

   Your name only came up one day as James was sitting with Wayne. They’d both spent hours of the morning tending to the stables in the intense heat, James doing most of the heavy-lifting, and took refuge under the shade of a large tree. After collecting a few random chopped logs and sticks, James took out his pocketknife and began carving. Wayne spoke of plans to make his wife a wooden sculpture of a cactus for their front porch, with James silently shucking away at the wood to bring it to a sharp point. 

   In the distance you’re harvesting crops from the vegetable garden, wearing denim cutoffs and a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. From here James thinks he can spot the image of Garfield printed on the front. He stares for longer than he should, eyes trailing down the expanse of your bare legs, and admittedly, over your behind when you turn and lean down to grab a shovel. 

   Wayne breaks through the intensity of his gaze by saying a name, the glass shattering when James averts his eyes and returns to sharpening the wooden shiv with care. His finger slips against the grain and he winces, plucking the splinter from his thumb, “That girl. She’s here from Seattle.” 

   He remains silent, lip twitching with a hint of annoyance at the older man’s intrusion. Yet he lets your name settle in his mouth, silently testing the way it feels on his tongue. Aware that he was caught, he keeps his eyes trained intensely on his craft to avoid Wayne’s gaze. 

   “Pretty, ain’t she?” Wayne muses, stripping bark from an ash log and looking at you in the distance as you pick weeds from the cauliflower beds, “We don’t usually get people like her out here,” he turns to James, simpering, “Don’t usually get rockstars ‘neither.” 

  He turns away to continue stripping the log and James uses the moment to steal another look at you. The sun beats down on your back and you wipe sweat from your brow with your bare forearm, pushing a few loose hairs back that had fallen from your ponytail. There’s a half empty sack of compost on the ground by your feet that stains the tips of your gloved hands. You look tired, standing back from the garden bed to study your handiwork before tilting your head all the way back to soak up the sun, hands on your hips. When you turn and glance in James’ direction, squinting your eyes through the heat mirage, he averts his gaze, once again all too aware of Wayne and the way the man lifts his hand to wave dramatically at you. 

   He doesn’t look up to see if you wave back. 

   He sees you again that late afternoon, in the same way he always sees you— in small vignettes, in short scenes that make him think momentarily that you might just be a figment of his imagination. He sees you walking past him with a crate full of lettuce, too focused on not dropping any from the heaped pile to pay him any notice. He sees you when he walks by the wire fence, where you’re being walked through the steps of feeding the chickens in the coop. He sees you now, entering the same house he’s staying in, the same one he’s walking to, only a few paces behind. 

   But still, you seem to pay him no mind, as if he’s a ghost. He thinks he might be one if it weren’t for the acknowledgment of Wayne and his wife, Marie. The other workers don’t much like him, interpreting his silence as him being a stuck up rockstar. He wonders if it’s for any reason that you don’t notice him. Does he skulk around too quietly? Sure, he’s not been the most conversational since he’s been here, but he’s sure you would’ve at least noticed him.

   It really bugs him. 

   For a man whose profession is to be seen and to be heard, he typically really likes fading into the shadows in his everyday life. There had been too many days of butting heads with Lars, too many arguments with his ex, too many paparazzi, too many expectations of him. He was only one man, and he knew he was too fucked up to be a role model for anyones kids. Before he entered rehab, he enjoyed the anonymity of a small town bar and the way no one knew who he was there. If they did, they didn’t care, clinking pints with him over the bar as if he was just another one of them. And even though Wayne and Marie do talk to him and put him to work, they still treat him like all the others staying on the farm for the season. And he does enjoy the fact that Wayne and Marie seem to pay him no mind, as well as the other workers. 

   But when he really thinks about it, he doesn’t like slipping into the shadows as much as he thought he did. Perhaps it’s his ego talking, but he at least likes being acknowledged. 

  It was as if you didn’t even know he was there. 

  It bugs him as he opens the door behind you after you’d let it close, watching you saunter down the hall and into the room only a door away from his own, not offering a glance as you shut it behind you. It bugs him as he makes his way into his own room, sitting at the edge of the bed and rubbing his hands over his tired face. It bugs him even more when he hears your door open and close again, squeaking on its hinges, followed by the click of the bathroom door and the rush of the shower turning on. 

   You claimed the shower before he could, as you always seem to do. Only today he had worked hard, back sore and legs aching with strain. Annoyance twitches at his lip but he tries to brush it off, taking deep breaths, groaning lowly as he lays back onto the bed. The day's work sits heavily in his bones and he shifts uncomfortably. He feels grimy, a layer of sweat having dried on his skin, sticking the Arizona desert sand to the hairs on his arms. He grimaces and tries to brush some off.

   Minutes pass while he waits for you to finish in the bathroom, then more, and after thirty minutes he’s grown more and more impatient with you, rising from the bed and storming into the hallway. He doesn’t take any time to notice that the shower has stopped running, the blood rushing too loudly through his ears, and as he’s about to aggressively rap his knuckles against the door, it swings open. You jump back with a start when you see him, his fist raised and face twisted in irritation. 

   Momentarily, he’s stunned, face contorting into an expression that matches your own as his eyes trail over your form– wet hair against your shoulders and fresh skin dewey with what he assumes is lotion. You’re gripping your towel tightly in one hand, the other clutching a toiletry bag. 

   As he lowers his hand, he realises that this is the first time you’re noticing his existence. Wide eyes glimmer up at him shyly, lips parted from the shock of opening the door to a man standing angrily directly on the other side. 

   With that realisation comes another—actually, two realisations that took him possibly too long to register– the fact that you’re almost naked, and he’s blocking your way out of the bathroom. Embarrassment nips viciously at the back of his neck, tinting the tips of his ears pink as he takes a step back. 

  James has never been good with embarrassment. His ego always gets in the way or gets him into trouble. Sure, it has won him many arguments, much to the chagrin of his opponents, but it has also gained him the title of an egotistical asshole to many people. Whenever James becomes embarrassed, the outcome is always the same– confrontational, cruel, unnecessary words he doesn’t really intend to say bubble up in his throat before he has any chance to stop them. 

   “Knowing that there’s only one bathroom, you should be more aware of how fucking long you take.” 

   He snaps his mouth shut the second the words are out, lips pressing together in a firm line. You raise your eyebrows at him, taken aback at the gruff rudeness of his tone. 

   You want to say something. Some witty comeback or even something to match his hostility, but your tongue struggles to find any words. Words have never come easily to you in the first place, always choosing to be quiet unless you’re around people you know, but they especially don’t come when you’re half naked and an angry, 6’1” man is towering over you. 

   All you can muster is a small, “I’m sorry.” as you push past him and retreat to your room. 

  James is paralysed in his spot, the increasingly familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine wafting over him from the bathroom as you walk away, listening to the door slam behind you. He’s not sure how long he stays standing in place, fists clenched at his sides with frustration directed at both you and himself. With a defeated sigh, he locks himself into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Once he’s stepped in he wastes no time in pressing his forehead against the cool tile, cursing himself for not being able to hold his tongue. 

   James really wants to spend the evening the same way he’d been doing, skipping dinner and smoking a cigar out on the front steps, but Marie had taken notice and when she bumped into him earlier in the day, had all but forced him into promising to come to dinner tonight. It didn’t sound appealing at all. It felt like fucking summer camp, having to sit around a big table with everyone staying at the ranch and talk about your day and the work everyones’ been doing. He’d quite honestly rather starve. 

   It didn’t help that he assumed you would be there. 

   He had made up his mind that he disliked you. The annoyance of  the way you’d practically ignored him for a week seems to only have increased with the duration of your shower. It was like you had no consideration for anyone else and didn’t look past the tip of your nose. He didn’t want to eat at the same table as you for that reason, is what he told himself. Not because he saw you in your towel and was so unnecessarily rude to you, no– James doesn’t do embarrassed. 

   He’s taken a nap directly after his shower, waking up even groggier and in an even worse mood, throwing on clean clothes and making his way down to the main house where Marie would be making dinner. The front door is already open when he gets there, and he takes an already exasperated breath before entering, 

   The smell that meets him is already mouthwatering, as much as he hates to admit it, and for a moment it makes him question why he’d skipped out on dinner for the past week. Wayne greets him as he walks in, already sitting around a large wooden table with a few men he recognises from around the ranch. Wayne has a cigar attached to his mouth, bobbing as he talks. 

   “James!” He exclaims, raising his hands in the air to greet him warmly, “Come on in, you should meet my guys.” 

   James nods curtly, having already met them in passing and discovered they didn’t much like him. But he puts up with it for Wayne’s sake, standing over the table but not sitting down, nodding in acknowledgment as he introduces everybody. They seem nice enough, greeting him with smiles, apart from two men at the end of the table who don’t so much as return James’ nod. They’re Dylan and Wes, the other two lodgers in the house. They offer him forced smiles, but James can see that the second Wayne turns his head to speak to someone else, they narrow their eyes in his direction. For a moment he wonders if you’d met them– if they treated you in the same way or if you hadn’t even noticed them in the same way you did him. 

   With that thought, Marie comes bounding in, wielding a wooden spoon in one hand, “James!” she grins, “I’m so pleased you came,” 

   She diverts her attention to Wayne, smacking him on the shoulder with the wooden spoon and scolding him in Spanish. The cigar between the man’s lips threatens to fall, but miraculously remains sturdy as he says something back, a sheepish expression on his face. 

   Marie rolls her eyes and turns back to James, “You, help me in the kitchen because my bum of a husband apparently has better things to do.” 

   Any other time James may have cringed at the idea– he’s not the best chef– but now, as he turns to glance at Dylan and Wes who stare at him with a look of contempt, he takes the out and follows Marie into the kitchen. 

   The moment he enters, his eyes land on you where you stand chopping vegetables at the butcher’s block island. You’re not looking at him yet, too focussed on dicing a tomato, and he takes a second to look at you. Your hair has dried, thrown back into a ponytail while you’re cooking, and you wear a white cotton sundress with thin straps that contrast against your skin. It’s different to how he’s seen you dressed, in denim cut-offs and cowboy boots, and for a moment he’s halted in the doorway to watch you. 

   “Could you shuck this corn?” Marie asks James, and your eyes finally snap up to look at him, trailing over his attire before you quickly go back to chopping. 

   He clears his throat with a small sure, taking his place across from you at the butcher’s block. You don’t dare to look up at him again, hoping that he doesn’t see the blush that tints the tops of your cheeks. 

   “You’re both very quiet, you know that?” Marie laughs, stirring a pot both metaphorically and literally, “Come on! Talk to each other.” 

   A short silence follows, painful and uncomfortable and it makes your skin crawl, clearing your throat and daring to glance at James. You break the silence by offering your name, extending some sort of peace offering.

   He doesn’t seem to extend the olive branch in return. uttering a gruff, “James,” as he shucks another ear of corn. 

   You nod, You’d hoped that he’d say more to make you feel less nervous, hands shaking slightly as you hold the knife. You knew his name already– Marie had told you a few days ago when she caught you staring at him while he repaired the broken gate near the stables– shirtless.  He had been sweating, lugging planks of wood from the shed on the other side of the lot, tattoos and bare skin glowing. Marie had snorted at your pink cheeks and made a smart comment about how he could fix your gate– whatever that meant. You’d been stealing glances at him since, averting your gaze quickly whenever he would begin to turn his head.

  You soon became aware of his dislike for you, and other than the earlier shower incident, you can’t think of why. You tried to stay out of his way as much as possible, which wasn't hard considering he hadn’t showed up to dinners so far, and always kept to himself except for when he was working with Wayne.

   It really bugs you. 

   You sigh when he doesn’t say anything else, glancing at Marie who’s back is to you as she leans over a large pot of stew, hoping that the heat of your gaze might burn just enough for her to turn around and save you. No dice. 

   “I–” You begin, “The gate looks really good.” 

   Instant regret rushes over you as a look of confusion paints his features, brows furrowed. You rush to explain, “The- the one by the stables, I saw you fixing it. It looks really good. I haven’t had to scale the fence to get through since.” 

   You embellish your compliment with a breathy laugh, audibly nervous, cursing yourself at your ability to make things so much worse. He didn’t return the laugh, and in fact, it seems that somehow your compliment had soured his expression even further. 

   “Thanks.” He deadpans, averting his gaze from yours and back to the corn. 

   You sigh, chopping another tomato. 

   Meanwhile James is internally kicking his own ass, unsure of why he can’t be fucking normal, intending to say one thing and actually saying another. He watches you from his place across the counter, the concerned furrow of your brow, pinched in the middle, to your nimble fingers diligently doing what Marie had instructed you to do. He feels a flash of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he misunderstood you. After all, you had noticed him– the gate was proof of that. Maybe he wasn’t as invisible to you as he thought he was. But that still leaves one question unanswered– if you noticed him, why did you intentionally ignore him? It’s silly and it’s childish, but it’s enough for him to continue on with his negative opinion of you.

   Time goes by wordlessly between you both, Marie instead taking the time to explain everything she was doing in detail, sure to send both of you home at the end of the night with the recipe for Birria engraved in your brains. Time passes this way until the table has been set and the food is ready, Marie ushering you both out of the kitchen and to the dining table. 

  The only three empty seats are lumped together, one of which is at Wayne’s side. It would be rude to sit where you know his wife would be sitting, so you take the next one with a small frown, waiting for James to take the one next to you. You’re aware that he’s not happy with the arrangement, and for a moment you wonder if he would take Marie’s chair, but he doesn’t and instead fills the vacant spot on your other side.  The table is tightly packed, and due to James’ frame, he has to keep his shoulders pinched together slightly to avoid rubbing them against yours. It’s nearly insulting, watching the amount of effort the man puts into not touching you, rolling your eyes to yourself as you eat the food Marie (and you and James, but mostly Marie) had prepared. 

   “So…,” 

   The mention of your name has your head snapping up, paused with your fork halfway raised to your mouth to look around at who had said your name. Your eyes fall on Dylan, who’s sat at the table directly across from you. You’d only met him once before and hadn’t really been able to form much of an opinion on him. He’s around your age, maybe a bit younger around twenty-three, with shaggy brown hair he let fall over his blue eyes and a smile that had a tinge of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He had helped you reach a pair of garden shears from the top shelf of the shed, and all you’d talked about within that span of two minutes was your names and where you were from. 

   “Hm?” You hum in acknowledgment.

   “You mentioned you’d stayed in Europe for a while, what was that like?” 

   You recognise the invitation of small talk, and you’d be thankful for it if it were just the two of you, but as everyone’s eyes settle on you for your response, you feel a little put on the spot. 

   “Uh, yeah, it was really cool,” you swallow, “Beautiful architecture.” 

   It’s a lame comment, and you're aware of it, but you're not sure of what else to say at the moment. Dylan nods slowly, eying you up and down in a way that makes you squirm nervously. 

   Wayne comes to your rescue, “James, have you been to Europe? I imagine y’have.” 

   The man beside you freezes, and he’s close enough that you can feel the tension, shifting in his chair. His bicep rubs against yours for the first time and you inhale quietly.

  “Yeah,” he sniffs, “Been a few times.” 

  “You been there on tour, I imagine?” 

  This piques your interest, eyes flitting to look at James profile. His jaw is clenched as he nods, “That’s correct.” 

   “On tour?” You ask. 

  He turns to you, and the intensity of his eyes this close up almost makes you regret asking. He nods, “My band tours here and there.” 

   “Ha! Understatement,” Wes snorts from across the table, southern accent strong through his laugh, “Mr. Big Shot over here has toured a whole lot more than just ‘here n’ there.”  

   He holds his fingers up in air quotes to emphasise his words, and you’re left confused. Mr. Big Shot? You thought James looked slightly familiar, but couldn’t place from where, so you’d just brushed it off as nothing. You turn to look at him again, studying his face and racking your brain to think of where you might have seen him before. It would make sense for him to be in a famous band, but which one? And why would someone in said famous band be out here in the middle of nowhere? 

   “What band?” You ask, ignoring Wes. 

   James looks uncomfortable, “Uh, Metallica.” 

   It’s as if bells go off in your head, piecing it all together and finally realising where you've seen him before. It wasn’t just one place you’d seen his face, but many. He’d been everywhere, on MTV, on the front covers of magazines on the newsstands back home, on billboards– dare you say Wes wasn’t too far off by calling him a Big Shot. 

   “Oh,” is all that comes out despite the revelation– despite the fact that you’re now painfully  aware of how famous he is. Your pre-existing nerves have only worsened with this newfound information, struggling to get a bite of your food down, wincing. 

   James, however, takes your lack of response and pained expression the wrong way and gets on the defensive, scoffing into his glass of water before slamming it down. The entire table goes quiet, and he doesn’t miss the way you flinch at his action, momentarily pausing to meet your gaze. Your eyes are wide as they lock with his, confusion written all over your face.

   He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up, “If you’ll excuse me.” 

   You watch his back as he retreats through the front door, letting it slam behind him. You flinch again and turn to look at Marie, who’s sitting next to her husband with a distraught look on her face. Sighing, you stand up and place your napkin on the table.

   “Dinner was absolutely wonderful, Marie, please excuse me.” 

   Marie flashes you a sympathetic glance as you walk to the door, and despite their chittering you don’t care to look at the expressions worn by Dylan and Wes. Instead, you make your way out of the house and down the front steps. The evening has finally matured into darkness, the pathway to the lodge lit only by lamp posts and strings of fairy lights that Marie had just put up earlier today. You’re not sure where to look for James, or even if you should be looking in the first place. If you truly are the cause of his bad mood, surely you’d be the last person able to talk some sense into him; but curiosity eats away at you, the need to fix whatever you’ve done gnawing at your stomach.

   It doesn't take too long to find him, sitting on the front steps of the lodge, mostly shrouded in shadows except for the orange cast of the fairy lights. 

   “Hey,” you offer carefully, slowing your pace as you near him. 

   You debate whether or not to sit next to him on the stairs, thinking it might piss him off if you do, but awkwardly rocking on your heels feels even worse. You take a seat next to him with a light huff, making sure to keep your arms from brushing against his like at the dinner table. He’s smoking a cigar, the burning tobacco lighting up his face ever so slightly on each inhale. Though he doesn’t verbally acknowledge your greeting, he doesn't leave either. As if he’s waiting for you to say something worth his while. 

   “I’m sorry, you know,” you offer softly, “I’m not quite sure what I did to upset you, but whatever it was, I’m sorry.” 

   He remains quiet, the sounds of the crickets and cicadas deafening. You exhale a sigh of defeat, tilting your head up to glance at the vast array of stars in the clear sky, counting the brightest stars until you lose your place. 

   James isn’t quite sure what to say. The longer he’s left to sit with his thoughts, the more he doesn’t understand what you’ve done to bug him so much. There’s been an explanation for every misunderstanding so far, leaving no reasons for his disdain, yet for some reason he just feels immensely frustrated by you. It’s something he feels under his skin, fizzing in his blood uncomfortably. He’s starting to wonder if it’s even got anything to do with you to begin with, or if this entire trip out to the desert has backfired and he’s got too much time and space to think about his life. Stress eats away at him, bubbling up slowly. 

   “I’m sorry about hogging the shower,” you ramble, “I didn’t realise you were waiting for it and I just got kinda…kinda lost in thought, I’ll hurry up next time.” 

   Nothing. It’s radio silence on his end, the air so thick that you feel it clouding your lungs along with the smoke from his cigar. You can’t stop your mouth from running, ”And it’s really cool that you’re in Metallica, I um, I don’t really know much about you guys but-”

   “You can stop,” he interrupts, the stress bubbling over, your face flaring with heat you’re glad he can’t see in the lighting. ”I don’t really care, honestly.” 

   He looks at you for the first time in the last five minutes, emotions flat and guarded, and for the first time since you’d met him, you feel your own anger rise up in your stomach instead of nerves– frustration, annoyance, fatigued with his attitude. 

   “Look,” you stand up, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’d appreciate it if you'd stop being a total dick.” 

   He puts out his cigar, standing up to tower over you, not letting you have the upperhand of being taller than him. He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him. 

   “All day, you’ve been awful to me, and we just met. I don’t get it, what’s your problem?” 

   He scoffs, “I have a whole fuckin’ list of problems, sweetheart, don’t feel special.” 

   You stare, dumbfounded, arms crossed over your chest, “Yeah? And what about it?” you challenge, eyes narrowed, “Why do you think I’m here, huh? We’ve all got our shit, we’ve all got things we’re running away from, what makes you think you can treat me like shit for no reason? Because if this is how it’s going to be all summer then I’m already real fucking tired of it.” 

   Cicadas are the only thing you receieve in return, the chirping filling the empty space between you and James. There’s nothing. There’s no apology to speak of, not even any retaliation. His face is void of emotion, hands dug into his pockets as he stands and stares. 

   His stare is intense and unmoving, but there’s something hidden behind it. It’s almost a sort of hollowness, as if this is something he’s been through a billion times before. It almost makes you falter, trying your hardest to search his eyes for any clues as to what he may be thinking. But his eyes are still those of a stranger’s, and you can’t place exactly what it is that he’s thinking. Shaking your head, you finally back down, taking a step back. 

   “I came here to apologise, and I did. I have nothing else to say,” you turn to the lodge and step towards the stairs, “But Marie didn’t deserve that shit you pulled tonight. I think she at least deserves an apology.” 

   The words hang between you in the night, heavy and oppressive. There’s a moment where your fingertips hesitate over the doorknob, casting one last look in James’ direction in hopes that he would say something. But he’s remained stoic, gaze set hard towards where you’re standing, hands shoved into his pockets. Shaking your head again, you step inside, leaving him in the dark. 

   Only when you’re gone does he rub his hands over his face and swear under his breath. With a sigh that holds the weight of the world, he takes begrudging steps back towards Marie and Wayne’s house. 

★

A/N: god pls bear with how slow and badly written this felt. anyways i hope you enjoyed jsdhgkjshdkjhgsdjg

[drivinmeinsane]

Wild Country (Part 2)

SIERRA SIX × F!READER

Part 1

Part 2 (This one)

Part 3 (coming soon)

*Summary: Six is running on empty in more ways than one when he pulls into that gas station out west. He just wants to make sure he and Claire survive when he does the unexpected and says he'll take on the job as a ranch hand. It was a position offered rhetorically and out of frustration, but damn if he doesn't fit the bill of what you need.

*Content/tags: Slow burn, Pining, Movie canon compliant, No use of Y/N, Cowboy!Six, Adoptive Daughter!Claire, no need to have read the books

*Rating: 18+ for future mature content

*Status: Ongoing

*Author's Notes: The burn is still burning slow, but we're getting there folks.

The drive from their motel to the cattle ranch is a short enough trip, but it's an uncomfortable one. The roads are pitted gravel at best and crater pocked dirt at the worst. Any time he glances over, he can see Claire holding anything she can get her hands on. Hitting one particularly large, unavoidable rut just about knocks the air out of him and causes her to let out a yelp and grab his forearm hard enough to leave the half moon indents of her nails in his skin. He holds back the wince of discomfort.

His grip on the steering wheel loosens in silent relief when he makes the turn onto the winding driveway. They pass a couple rolling acres dotted with horses. Claire has both her hands on the window ledge now, her death grip on Six's arm forgotten as she stares out the window. He hadn't expected her to be captivated by the animals, but he supposes that it's a novel experience for her. Being the niece of a CIA handler and having a heart condition surely led to a mundane life spent locked away. Six feels a pang in his chest when he thinks about Fitz. He should be the one with Claire, not him.

The drive opens up into a dead end parking lot. On his right is a massive barn, on his left are a couple of bunkhouses, but it's straight ahead that catches his attention. You had said to park in front of the large, white house, so he does, pulling right next to a green truck that he had noticed at the gas station. The truck settles into park with the enthusiasm of a reanimated corpse finally allowed to rest again. Six pushes the door open and wrestles it closed behind him. He's greeted by a large, rust colored dog. It stands in front of him, panting expectantly. He ignores it in favor of ducking down to speak into the truck's cabin, one arm casually resting on top of the vehicle.

"Let's go find my new boss."

Claire gives him one of her skeptical looks and shoves her own door open with a dramatic sigh. He's surprised it doesn't fall off its hinges. He feels the dog's hot breath against his knees and inches around the animal to join his adoptive daughter at the tailgate.

"What's the plan? Is there even anyone here? I th-oh!" Her voice cuts off as she spots the dog. She crouches down and enthusiastically starts petting it. He supposes that the dog is pleased with the arrangement if the lolling tongue and kicking back leg are any indication.

He watches on in silence for a moment before he hears banging noises and a loud whinny from the barn. He looks in that direction and gives Claire a quiet "Hey". He makes a gesture for her to follow him when she looks up at him. The dog runs ahead of them as they crunch over the gravel before impatiently doubling back to match their speed.

───※ ·❆· ※───

You're kneeling next to one of your horses when you hear the scuff of feet and scrabbling of dog nails. You finish velcroing the sports medicine boot in place before you stand up. Your mare nudges your arm and snorts when you don't produce a treat despite having a bucket of grain with a few mouthfuls left. You absently run a hand down her face as you turn to face the people coming into your barn.

You're greeted with the sight of the gas station man and whom you presume is the daughter he had mentioned. The ranch dog is wagging his tail furiously as he stops next to the girl, pressing in close for the pets she provides him. He's clearly smitten with her.

"Come on over." You call.

The man, Six, makes piercing eye contact as he approaches. His arms are casually at his sides but there's tension in his broad shoulders. The girl is right on his heels, nearly tripping over both her dad and the dog. She's clearly nervous but there's a look of fascination on her face. Her skin is pale, almost translucent like she hasn't had much sun exposure.

Your prospective ranch hand is a formidable presence up close. He's tall enough that you have tip your head back to make eye contact. You feel a little like an insect under a magnifying glass with the way he stands over you, running analyzing eyes over your face. You brush it off and square up to him like you would to one of your cow horses. You were long since used to winning the respect of larger animals. You weren't about to squirm.

"Sierra." You say, offering your hand.

He takes it immediately, no reservations about the horse sweat and grime coating it. He says your name in the same tone you said his. His hand is warm and calloused in yours. There's strength in his grip that you can clearly feel even from such a brief clasp. You offer the same hand to the girl. She takes it. You give her a smile you didn't give her father.

"Any friend of Winston here is a friend of mine." You say brightly, gesturing down at the dog doing his best to wiggle into the middle of things.

"Must have a lot of friends then." Her response is fast. She's clever, confident through her nerves.

"Surprisingly not. You must be special." You say. "So what's your name, honey?"

"Claire."

There's a sharp intake of air from the man next to her. You cut your eyes at him. There's a flash of worry on his face that gets smoothed over so quickly you almost wondered if you imagined it. Something was off about this situation, but the girl seemed to trust the man implicitly. None of your own instincts were dreaming danger either. Strange. Winston and the mare behind you weren't agitated by his presence either.

"Well, Claire, it's nice to meet you. How about I give you two the tour and we'll go from there?"

Six gives an agreeable nod and his daughter's face lights up. You double check the quick release knot securing your horse to the tie ring. You can feel his gaze like a physical hand on your back. It takes everything in you to not involuntarily shiver under the imaginary weight. You give the black mare a pat that's more reassuring to you than to her before you turn around to meet that heavy gaze head on.

"After you." His voice is like velvet, rich and promising.

You fight down the urge to swallow thickly at the sound of his voice and begin the overview of the property.

───※ ·❆· ※───

He and Claire follow you for the better part of an hour. His eyes tend to wander more towards you than the surroundings you're explaining. There's something appraising in the way he watches you. It's nothing like the looks you've gotten from some of your other ranch hands. Their stares make your skin crawl at times, but his... well, it has you wanting to crawl in an entirely different way.

"How many others are there?"

The question catches you off guard. The three of you are standing in front of the bunkhouse you told him he would be staying in. He's been so silent throughout the tour that you had nearly forgotten what he sounds like.

"There's three. Dallas, Jimmy, and Charles. We had four, but one of them decided to light out about a week ago."

"Why did he leave?"

"Conflict of interests." There's more steel in your voice than you intended, but Six gives an accepting nod and changes the topic.

"What about my daughter?"

"Oh! Right, yes. She'll be staying in the main house with me and Suzanne, the property owner. Claire's a minor and not under contract so I don't want to toss her in with you and the other men. If that's alright with you?"

"Good." His tone is warm. "She has a pacemaker. I worry about her. Having her safe is my priority." He has a softer presence when he speaks about Claire.

"Good dad. I'll introduce you after I put you through your test. As long as you find everything suitable, I'd like to see how you are on a horse."

He agrees, and your small party tramps back over to the barn to where you left your horse waiting patiently. She rumbles when she sees you cross the threshold. Claire's interest is at its peak and she's nearly vibrating.

"Here." You say, pulling a treat out of your pocket. You press it into her hand. "Show her your empty hand and then close your fingers and offer it to her to sniff. If she bumps it with her nose, you can pet her."

She follows your directions to the letter and is soon petting the animal. You beckon her father over closer and step out of the way to give them room to interact with the mare. He's got such a tender look on his face while looking at his daughter that your breath catches for a moment.

"Claire, if you hold your hand out flat and under her nose, she'll take that treat from you now that you've gotten acquainted." Your tone is casual and you avoid looking at the man's face again

"Oh!" She laughs a bit as the horse's whisker's skim over her palm.

"Her name is Belladonna. Sierra, she'll be the horse I test you out on. If everything goes well, the two of you will be partners during the term of your contract."

He nods and that's that. You quickly swap the mare's halter for her bridle and then you and Claire are soon leaning against the indoor area railing watching Six swing a leg over the Quarter Horse's back and settle into the saddle. He rides well enough. You watch him as he urges Belladonna to a walk. His hands are gentle on the reins and he's well balanced in the saddle. He's definitely not spent long hours and days mounted, but he's not the worst you've ever seen ride. Some of your own ranch hands have been hired with a worse seat.

"Bring her to a jog and have her circle those cones." You call to him.

He raises a hand in acknowledgment and clicks to the horse. She tosses her head in excitement and gives a little cowhop. There's barely any movement or surprise from her rider, he's got a natural grace to him that automatically shifts and sways to accommodate the mare's movements. He does what you ask of him and before long you're calling him back over to dismount. His feet barely hit the ground before you're pulling the folded contract out of your shirt pocket. He turns to face you and the two of you both start speaking.

"Are you ready to-"

"I'm not too exper-"

There's a brief silence only accompanied by Belladonna's swishing tail and Winston panting happily as Claire scratches between his ears.

"You go first." Six says, encouragement in his tone.

You take a breath. "If everything is suitable to you, I would like to take you on for the season. I've got the contract right here if you would like to look it over and sign it." You hold you the paper and a pen out to him. He takes both with steady hands.

"He doesn't know how to read." Comes Claire's earnest voice.

Both you and her dad look over to see her face dripping with sincerity. He shakes his head somberly. "Don't tell all my secrets."

You have to stifle a laugh at the two of them. The man quickly scans his blue, blue eyes along the words on the page. He quickly scrawls his signature at the bottom of the page before handing the signed page and the pen back to you.

"I'm yours now."

It sounds like a promise.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Dinner is a singlesidedly noisy affair. The old woman started fussing over the father and daughter from the second you introduced them to her. She doesn't allow for any lulls in the conversation and it really starts to feels like a hostage situation. Six finally begs off with the excuse that Claire needs to go to bed. You spring at the chance to escape and show them to the bedroom that the teen will be staying in.

"If there's anything you need, just let me know." You say before wishing Claire goodnight and going back down the stairs to give them some privacy.

You need to do the dinner cleanup anyway. This old house never got updated with a dishwasher. Suzanne passes you in the kitchen with her eyebrows raised and an amused look on her face. You ignore her pointed look towards the stairs where you can both hear the muffled voice of the man you just hired. You don't want to talk about his presence. You have never let any of the other ranch hands further than the front porch, much less invited them to dinner. Granted, none of the other hands have had a child with them.

You're in the middle of rinsing off a plate when an arm reaches around you to grab the dish towel hanging by the sink. You stare for a second, taking in the rolled up sleeve and flex of his muscles underneath his tattooed skin. You can feel the heat of him against your back and your mouth goes dry. He gently takes the plate from your hands when you go to set it aside and dries it off. The two of you work in comfortable silence only accented by the sounds of water and clink of dishes. You wash and he dries. You savor the glimpses you get of his hands and his strong forearms. His hands are scarred and calloused but the way he uses his fingers is delicate. His pace is unhurried, steady. You sneak a glance at his face and it's relaxed.

Finally, when he's drying the final dish and you've pulled the plug in the sink, you turn to him. There's a breathless moment where the two of you simply look at eachother. Neither of you speak as you show him to the front door. There's a pause on the threshold, and you can visibly see him struggle with himself on what to say. You wait patiently.

"Goodnight." It's low, intimate in the glow of the porch light.

You smile at him for the first time. He doesn't return it but there's a softer curve to his lips when you do.

"Goodnight, Sierra." Your voice comes out quieter, more tender than you had meant. You flush. You hope he can't notice.

He nods, a slow include of his head, and steps out of the doorway and turns to go down the porch steps. You close the door behind him and let out a shaky breath. He is all but a complete stranger. There is no reasonable explanation for you to respond to him the way that you have been since he showed up on the property. Or, if you're being honest with yourself, since you spotted him at the gas station.

He had clearly stuck out as an outsider. A little sweaty and worn. There was pained exhaustion written in the lines of his body and despite your anger over the situation involving your deserting ranch hand, your eye was drawn to him. You watched him analyze his surroundings with a practiced eye and saw his sleight of hand. A desperate man.

You made sure to raise your voice when he came to the register. He focused in on you and your heart lept in your throat when he said he'd do the job. His gaze had been so intense, so hopeful. When he mentioned that he had a daughter, your mind was made up.

You know that you are just going to have faith in him. Somehow he doesn't seem like the kind of man who would fall short.

N E X T.

[ezeverse-nextgen]

pasted from my deviantart babeyy

After the sisterhooves social episode, Big mac started to quickly realize that orchard blossom was  a lot more than just a fun one time persona. Less than a month later she came out to her younger sisters as trans and was accepted with overjoyed and open arms! She officially changed her name but still goes by Big Mac as a nickname since she finds it to be moreso a term of endearment from her family rather than a deadname. She is much more talkative and participates in the social with both of her sisters yearly now! Her friendship with cheerilee had been long standing and after coming out they started spending even more time together as cheerilee's younger sister Jasmine Leaf was also a trans woman, it gave blossom a space to speak to someone she felt truly understood her. Troubleshoes and Sugarbelle came to ponyville around the same time, sugarbelle to work at sugarcube corner for confectionaries and clyde for his traveling roadside show. Sugarbelle and Mac had met before, not unlike their canon show counterparts, but the whole incident with featherbangs never happened. A friendship sparked between them and not too long after sugarbelle, cheerilee, and orchard blossom were inseparable. On one of their days out they stumbled across Clyde about to leave town and move onto the next, asking him if they could see his show before he left, to which he obliged. All 4 ponies genuinely enjoyed themselves and after finding out that clyde was essentially homeless, Blossom offered him to stay at sweet apple acres for a while to rest up outside of the small caravan he pulled (that he couldn't even fit into). What was supposed to be a week turned into a month as all 4 became thick as thieves, n eventually decided to be in a platonic polycule! They all wanted kids but never really had interest in romantic relationships, so they decided on each other and to raise their family as friends. Sugarplum came first, with carolina not too far after. Cortland was the youngest n is planned to be the last of the family's kids. All of the kids understand their parent's relationship n the entire family couldn't be happier. 

Name: Carolina Cherry Nicknames: Carrie (most common), Sunshine (Blossom) Parents: Orchard blossom and Troubleshoes Clyde Siblings: Summer Sugarplum, Cortland  Body type: big and s t u r d y girlie Species: Earth pony-shire horse Special Talent: Soul Music Singer Voice Claim: Jurnee Smollett-Bell

Carolina was the second kid to be born to her family, even if it was only by a year. She was a huge baby and by the time Orchard Blossom was 6 months pregnant she could barely stand! From birth her parents could tell she was going to be a very big pony n boy was that an understatement, by the time she was in elementary school she was about the size of a full grown mare give or take a couple inches. In her adulthood she's about the same height as her pa clyde, though she insists she's 3 millimeters taller (she may be!). Despite her threateningly large stature, Carolina is the definition of a gentle giant. She spends a good majority of her time volunteering for events like the grand galloping gala and the summer sun festival, putting on free shows in ponyville, and giving free lessons to any foals who are interested! Carrie is an extremely talented singer and is well known throughout equestria! She often gets personally invited by the princesses to attend special events as the entertainment alongside huge names like songbird serenade, they insist on paying her but she refuses every time. With a voice on vinyl you'd expect Carrie to live in the spotlight, when she's quite the opposite; She much prefers to stay on the farm and work with her family, tending to her one, giant cherry tree that is a beautiful sight to behold come springtime. She planted it as a filly and, being an earth pony, it grew incredibly fast under her care. Everypony in ponyville eagerly awaits the harvest in which Carolina makes the most delicious cherry Jam that can be found in Equestria! Carrie's best friend since fillyhood is Tender Morning, after her visit to sweet apple acres (see- Destiny is but a suggestion) the two quickly bonded over a love of music and all things glittery! They have a few duet songs on vinyl in which morning sings under her pseudonym "thunderbird". Morning doesn't want anypony knowing she's the other voice to the duet, and the name helps as it causes ponies to assume that thunderbird is a Pegasus. Carolina happily keeps her best friend's secret and whenever asked she cheekily says, "I wish I knew!"  She's very close to her sibling Summer Sugarplum. Most ponies assume they're the younger sibling due to the height difference, and Carrie is quick to correct them. Summer defended Carolina often in their schoolfoal days, she was often bullied for her height once other foals realized she wouldn't fight back. Ponies quickly realized that despite being shorter than average, Summer was a force to be reckoned with and got suspended on multiple occasions for physically fighting others for bullying their sister. Despite the drastic difference in size Carolina and Summer still wrestle over who will do the dishes that day. 

Name: Summer Sugarplum Nicknames:Summer, Sugar, tiny (Tshoes) Parents: Cheerilee and Sugar belle Body type: Short mare with an average build Species: earth pony Special talent: Flower Baker Voice claim: Maggie Heath

Summer Sugarplum was the first born to their parents even if it wasn't by much. Cheerilee and Sugar belle offered to have the first baby as they were less likely to have complications throughout the pregnancy. After spending a few months pregnant Sugar belle popped out Summer! They were a preemie baby and scared their parents a little with how small they were, but the doctors assured the parents that their filly was just fine. Sugar was quite the firecracker in her young years, much to the surprise of her parents. She'd always been exceptionally calm but the moment ponies started picking on their younger sister it was like they were a completely different pony. Upon graduating Elementary however, Their docile and friendly nature returned. They came out as nonbinary somewhere around age 12 and is happy with both she and they pronouns. They love their family to bits and are planned to be the next in line to take over sweet apple acres after applejack once honeybee made it very clear she wasn't interested. Summer is a flower baker, finding ways to incorporate normal and exotic flowers into their pastries and coming up with original recipes that have won them multiple awards. She's close with pinkie's family for this reason and considered them to be a second family of sorts, being overjoyed when her younger brother and pinkie's son poprocks were born on the same day. They always go out of their way to check on family members and even makes it a point to attend as many of whiplash's shows as she can despite being an earth pony. Summer was actually the first pony that Honeybee Harvest confided in about her feelings regarding herself and her family, which is why they offered to take up being sweet apple acre's future matriarch instead. Honeybee is extremely grateful and Sugarplum is the only one of her cousins she is particularly close with. 

Name: Cortland Apple Nicknames: Cory, Quinn, Lil mac (general apple fam) Parents: Sugarbelle, Cheerilee, Orchard Blossom, and troubleshoes body type: Just a little guy species: earth pony special talent: ???

Cortland is the last of the group's kids, and sequentially the biological kid of all four! Through some trial and error, and help from Twilight, the family managed to combine all 4 of their DNA into one foal (which Cheerilee happily carried). Then came Cortland "lil Mac" apple! Cory is adored by everyone he meets with his sweet and eager-to-please personality, many members of the Apple family remark that he's a lot like his late grandpa bright mac. He's only a foal and doesn't have his cutie mark yet, which doesn't bug him one bit! He and his best friend Pop Rocks, who he happens to share a birthday with, plan on finding out what their cutie marks are together, whenever it may happen! Cortland is often mistaken for a filly due to his long hair n bright eyes but he doesn't much mind it. He loves interacting with every member of his family in every way he can, helping Sugarbelle at the bakery, cleaning up cheerilee's classroom, helping Blossom in the orchard, Attending his big sister's shows, the world is Cortland's oyster and he is determined to crack it open!! 

[gerec]

AU-gust 2023

Pairing(s): Cherik Warnings: N/A 2. Immortals

In the six months since Erik moved to Westchester, he’d explored almost every inch of Greymalkin, from the dozens of finely furnished rooms to the surrounding acres of vast woodland that made up the Xavier estate. According to Charles, one of his ancestors migrated from England to the US in the late 1800s, and commissioned a replica of his family home to be built - almost brick for brick - on the new land he purchased. Even the furnishings had come from the original Greymalkin located in West Berkshire, which meant the house was littered with priceless antiques often centuries old. Erik had spent many a lazy afternoon roaming its halls, wondering what secrets might be revealed if one knew just where to look.

It'd been raining since Charles left that morning for the city, to take his sister Raven to their regular Sunday brunch. Erik had declined the invitation to tag along, not wanting to intrude on their well-worn tradition, but also because he sensed that Raven didn’t approve of his relationship with her brother. It wasn’t that she was rude to Erik, or that she’d been anything but unfailingly polite, but he knew enough about her from Charles to know that her treatment of him was out of character. When he asked about it, Charles had merely brushed it away, murmuring about Raven not wanting to get too attached as she’d had with some of his previous partners.

There felt like a ring of truth in what was otherwise an unconvincing lie, though Erik decided to let it go since it had little real impact on his relationship with Charles.

Since he couldn’t go for a run, he decided to try reading in the library, and while away the afternoon amongst the dusty old tomes. A copy of Brontë’s Jane Eyre happened to catch his eye, as it reminded him of his sister Ruth and how she would sometimes read to him when he was sick, or if he simply wanted a bedtime story. He remembered very little of the plot of the book, since it was so long ago, except that one of the characters had been hidden away in the attic. That train of thought led him to remember that he hadn’t explored the one upstairs, even though he’d combed through every level and every room of the giant mansion. There didn’t seem to be any reason not to check it out right now, he thought, though he realized belatedly that Charles had never actually shown him how to get up there.

Still, it didn’t take long for Erik to find the entrance, a fake bookshelf in one of the corner rooms that slid aside to reveal a hidden staircase. He’d read enough mystery and gothic novels as a kid to expect the presence of secret rooms and concealed doorways, especially in an old manor built by an eccentric millionaire. And for a passageway that likely didn’t get much use, it was clean and well lit, opening up into a giant loft space that encompassed almost a whole other level.

There was furniture wrapped under tarp, and chests of old clothes that were dated from various periods of the past century. He even found an old uniform from what he assumed was one of the World Wars, though Charles had never spoken about a family member who’d served. On closer inspection, he found a bullet hole in the material, right above the heart, and wondered whose macabre decision it was to keep the uniform. There were letters too, bundled together at the bottom of the chest, and Erik pulled the stack out gingerly, mindful of their condition.

He was stunned into silence at the picture that fell out of the first letter he opened.

It was a black and white print of what appeared to be Charles and Erik in uniform, the edges of the photo worn and faded from age. The two men were standing side by side outside the front doors of Greymalkin and grinning at the camera. The resemblance was so uncanny that Erik was almost convinced he was the person in the picture, and that he’d somehow forgotten getting dressed up and posing for it with Charles. And the man in the picture looked exactly like his Charles, with the same smile and broad shoulders and easy charm.

How was it possible that Charles had a relative who looked just like him, who also knew someone who looked enough like Erik to be his twin?

But it was not until Erik opened a second chest, and then a third that his breath caught and his heart started racing, as they were full of items – everything from old, faded photographs, pencil sketches and painted portraits, to clay masks and marble busts – bearing his face.

He shuddered, when his gaze fell on a beautiful sketch of his own profile, signed and dated by the artist:

Charles Xavier, 1458

Erik dropped the picture and ran from the attic.

[sanjithesimp]

have you been good?

renji abarai x fem reader

a/n: a little something..something for renji’s birthday.

w.c: 894 words

WARNING: NSFW (minors DNI). teasing. phone sex. masturbation. dom! renji.

playlist suggested to listen while you read this <3

you couldn’t wait longer. you needed him. it was 3 am, but you didn’t care anymore. renji was on the human world, while you were stuck in the seireitei all wet and without him to fuck the horniness out of you. you had been touching yourself all those nights that you missed him but you needed something else. imagination and some thirsts he had sent you before weren’t enough anymore.

“hello?” renji’s sleepy voice sounded through the speaker, while your short lived breaths sounded through the other side of the line.

“it’s me, i- i need you” that last part almost sounded like a whine, as your fingers played with your cunt over the damp fabric of your panties. renji wasn’t sleepy anymore, his senses fully focused on your breaths and the soft moans that could be heard through the phone.

“what are you wearing right now?” renji said, running his fingers from his naked chest, imagining it was yours, as they got to the waistband of his boxers.

“nothing but my panties…”you replied.

“would you take them off for me?” renji said, his voice low and raspy. he then started to move his hand to where his half hard cock was already leaking with precum. tiny drops staining his abdomen. he gasped and took a deep breath, realizing he had been holding his breath.

“yes, my love” you replied, and did as he told you. “what do you want me to do next?” you expected renji to give you the next order.

“have you been good while i haven’t been there?” you bit your lower lip, remembering all those nights you would touch yourself thinking about your lover, and how he’d fuck you dumb, not even care who could hear you.

“maybe…”you replied.

“you’re a liar…and for that you will not cum until i say so.” renji said as he started stroking his shaft, slow movements from the base to the tip, but he knew it would never be the same as when you sucked him off, or when you got on top of him, not letting an inch out of you.

“i want you to touch yourself, now” renji said, and you started gently rubbing two fingers over your folds feeling the juices coat them as you moaned and whimpered.

“oh- renji, tell me how you want me to-”you continued saying but trailed off as you started hearing the wet sounds of him stroking his cock.

“fuck yourself with two fingers…” you placed another finger inside, still not enough to feel the same you felt whenever he was inside you. he was so big, it made you feel completely filled. but your fingers barely felt like anything.

“faster…” renji said under his breath, picking up the pace as well. imagining you naked in his bed, while you played with your pussy. the squelching of them every time you got your fingers deeper inside you, until you were arching your back. hearing your moans over the phone was driving him crazy, mostly because he wanted to be there and rip those moans out of you until the whole seireitei could hear you.

you felt closer to your orgasm, hearing renji groan and whisper your name. you imagined him pumping his cock, until precum smeared his hand, focusing on his sensitive tip. he liked it when you kissed and sucked it, while keeping eye contact with him. he tried to be as quiet as possible so no one in urahara’s store would hear him.

you started rubbing your clit, feeling as the coil on your belly was about to snap, your moans became high pitched and your breathing had increased. and just as you were about to cum, renji stopped you. “not yet baby, remember? you’ll come when i say so.” you sighed, frustrated as you were so close to your release.

“babe, please…”you said, trying to convince him to let you cum.

“please what?” he was teasing you. enjoying how he was making you feel, and enjoying the control. wanting to make you beg.

“please, let me cum” you whined.

“ok, babe, cum for me.” he said, a smile drawn across his face. so devilish as he was satisfied for the power he held over you. he started pumping his shaft faster, wanting to cum at the same time as you.

your fingers curled inside you, as your thumb rubbed circles on your puffy clit. you were a complete mess. he heard as you moaned his name, your hitched breaths as the coil on your belly finally snapped, making you squirt all over the bed, your legs shaking as you kept fucking your cunt.

renji also came, groans and growls came out of his mouth as ropes of cum smeared his abdomen as well as his hand. as he pumped his cock until there was no drop left.

“that was so fucking hot” renji said, still recovering from his high.

“yeah, it was…but i wish you were here next to me” you said, suddenly feeling a bit sad that it would take a few more weeks before he was back to the soul society.

“you can call me whenever you miss me” he said, also wishing he was there to hold you in between his arms as he caressed your bare skin until you fell asleep on his chest.

[datauthorress]

Transformers: REDACTED [chapter 1: shelby - part 1]

pairing: optimus prime / original female character / megatron, ratchet / original female character, thundercracker / original male character / skywarp, cyclonus / original male character, sideswipe / original male character / sunstreaker, knockout / original female character / breakdown, ultra magnus / original genderfluid character

summary: megatron has been missing for one year. the autobots can’t find him, until a weak energon signal makes the autobots realize he’s in the care of a kind human who decided to take him in, but there’s more to the young human than it seems.

rating: e

a/n: original story with some bases from transformers: prime and a few other series. takes place in early 2023.

march 4th, 2023

         “she’s a beaut, eh?”

         “i’d say handsome,”

         shelby leaned her weight on her cane as she glanced at the broken vehicle in front of her. it resembled the batmobile, but a bigger and much prettier version of it. it had purple and black and silver and a strange symbol on the grill of it.

         “whatdya think?” the seller asked, glancing over at shelby with a grin. “good ‘nough project for ya?”

         “perfect, i’ll buy him,”

         the seller took the cash that he was given and counted it before he got his men to get the vehicle on a tow truck to have it sent to her house. shelby got in her truck and waited until the men were ready and then she began to lead them back to her house. it wasn’t a far drive since she lived on the outskirts of sails, indiana. it wasn’t a massive town, but was decently sized and had a good population of people. it was mostly known for its football games, gas stations and the local festival that happened every labour day weekend.

         after about twenty minutes of driving, shelby turned into the long gravel driveway that led up to her house. she had a large, beautiful Victorian house that was surrounded by ten acres of woods, trails in them and a small trail through the trees that led to a large, private lake. she had a massive garden ready to be planted as soon as it was ready to, and a large barn that stood off to the side of the house. it was where shelby mostly did her work on her vehicles.

         shelby drove up to the barn, and got out, before opening the large doors and guiding the men to back up into the barn for them to drop off the broken down vehicle. once it was in, the men unloaded it and she gave them a tip before thanking them. they drove off not too long after.

         shelby sighed, glancing down at the vehicle. “you’re gonna be quite a bit of work, handsome,”

         “talking to the car, shelby?” a male voice laughed behind her.

         one of her two roommates, tripp kucera came up beside her, throwing an arm over her shoulder playfully. he was a young man of about 23-years-old and had been renting a bedroom on the second floor of the house for about a year and a half now. he had curly brown hair that he normally kept slicked back, or somewhat messy with his curls over his forehead, and dark brown eyes. he wasn’t much taller than shelby, ranging about 5’10”, five inches taller than shelby.

         “yeah, he’s beautiful,” shelby nodded, leaning back against tripp slightly so she wasn’t leaning so heavily on her cane.

         “he?” tripp asked with a soft chuckle.

         “well, the car looks like a he,” shelby said, giving tripp’s chest a pat. “don’t make fun of me. what’s for dinner? it’s your turn to cook.”

         “pizza?” tripp suggested.

         “sounds delicious, sausage pizza for me, love.” shelby smiled at him. “sorrel will be home later, so make sure to let him know we’re doing pizza tonight,”

         “will do.” tripp nodded, patting her back.

         tripp headed inside the house. shelby glanced down at the vehicle once more and gave it a soft pat on the damaged hood. “i’ll fix you up, don’t worry.”

         with that, she closed the large barn doors and locked them for now, since she was going inside for a bit. she had taken on a project since she was taking a small hiatus from writing, after having completed a trilogy series and then a novel of monster romance stories. sue her, she liked monster romance.

         for some reason, ever since she had seen the car at the shop, she had felt drawn to it. she wasn’t sure how to explain it exactly, but she felt as though she was meant to have it. she didn’t question her gut usually, as that came with her sense of being able to detect things that people couldn’t.

         mostly the supernatural.

         maybe the car is haunted. shelby thought.

         ah well, who knew.

         when five o’clock came around, their other roommate, sorrel came home. sorrel was 45-years-old and was a doctor at the local hospital, who specialized in neurology and cardiology. he was older, but he was very handsome and had brown hair that he often kept slicked back and kept his face free of facial hair due to wanting to have a professional appearance. he was currently renting a bedroom on the second floor as well.

         although shelby was their landlord, everyone loved each other and got along nicely and did their part in chores around the house.

         after dinner, shelby took her tablet with her to the barn and decided to get to work on the broken vehicle. she put her one of her favorite youtubers on, a young woman who spoke about the creepy or dark side of tiktok and glitch in the matrix stories. shelby had seen all of her videos, but she often had her on for background noise.

         shelby took off her shirt, leaving her in her tank top, jeans and her steel toe boots. she set her cane off to the side, hanging it across the handle on her mobile tool drawer organizer.

         the only weird thing that shelby realized about the car was that it came with no keys, but with a remote start button, which was odd, in her opinion. perhaps it was some illegal car, or something that had been built from the ground up and it didn’t have a key.

         the inside of the car was a mess, bolts and nuts and screws everywhere. however, when she popped the hood of it, she was greeted with an engine she had never seen before, not even on the newer vehicles within the last few years. the engine was damaged, but it looked as though most of the major parts of the engine were intact. she noted the battery in the corner and decided to give it a jump start. she attached clamps to the battery terminals and attached them to a portable battery pack that was on her workbench.

         “alright, here goes nothing,” shelby said to herself and flipped the switch, and then going over to the car and pressing the remote start button.

         immediately, the vehicle lurched as it was jumpstarted and sparks flew out of the engine, but thankfully didn’t catch on fire. the vehicle revved loudly, a crackling noise emitting from the inside. the dashboard came to life and instead of music, she heard what sounded like a desperate plea coming from the radio.

         “meg…..wher….you?” a man’s voice called out.

         “the hell?” shelby whispered.

         sparks flew at her from the radio and she yelped, hearing as a distorted, painful scream came through the radio.

         “op….mus!”

         shelby dove out of the car as it lurched once more, as if it was going to drive right through the closed doors of the barn. but much to her surprise and shock – and horror – the vehicle in front of her began to twist and turn.

         shelby quickly scrambled up out of the way as what looked like a hand came sprouting out of the side of the car and slammed down right in the spot where she had just been. shelby dove under to hide under her workbench, watching as the car twisted and formed into some giant metal titan. arms, shoulders, and legs and then a torso and a head, all damaged and worn from what looked like some kind of battle.

         two glowing, red orbs appeared in the sockets of the face and glanced around frantically, a raspy and frightened gasp coming from the mouth of the titan.

         the giant, metal titan lost its footing and fell onto the ground (luckily enough not crashing through the side of the barn), laying there for a moment before it sat up and looked around before its eyes landed on shelby, hiding underneath her workbench.

         shelby was deathly rigid, all of her muscles tense and her eyes wide as she locked eyes with the being.

         what the fuck was this car? if it was a car at all.

         but shelby didn’t sense danger coming from the being. all she could sense was confusion, desperation, and fear.

         “w….where….where am i?” the being asked, and shelby noticed that the voice was male, deep with an accent behind it that she didn’t recognize.

         shelby was quiet for a moment, swallowing down her nervousness and fear before she answered. “you’re…in my barn, on my property. you’re in the united states, on the outskirts of sails, indiana, my hometown.”

         “sails…?” the being questioned, appearing confused for a moment. “i’m…not far,”

         “far from where?” she asked.

         “where my family is,” it – he – replied. “i…..what is the time, err…the earth date?”

         “march 4th, 2023,” shelby answered.

         the being let out a sigh. “i’ve….been gone for some time…”

         shelby slowly scooted out and stood up, limping towards her tool box and grabbing her cane so she could lean her weight on it. “how long do you think you’ve been gone?” she asked carefully.

         “a year, if i’m correct…”

         a year?

         “how…did i get here?” the titan asked.

         “you were in a junkyard of sorts, and i brought you to my home so i could fix you up, as a project.” shelby answered, remaining calm. “if…if you don’t mind me asking, what are you?”

         “i’m a cybertronian,” the being asked. “my race and i originated from a planet called cybertron. there was a war and….cybertron is now a barren wasteland.”

         “a war? between who?” she asked.

         “between two fractions, the decepticons and the autobots. the decepticons fought for evil, and the autobots for good. i…..was originally the leader of the decepticons, but after a near-death experience, i renounced my ways and joined the autobots to defend earth.” he explained.

         shelby went quiet for a moment, thinking. “what’s your name?”

         “megatron,” he answered.

         “megatron? my name’s shelby o’viere,” shelby said, introducing herself. “i know you’ll want to go back to your family, do you have a way of contacting them?”

         “shelby,” megatron said her name, nodding. “no, my commlink is broken. if it was fixed, i would be able to get into contact with them.”

         “i can help you with that,” shelby nodded. “if you’ll allow me,”

         “i would appreciate it, shelby. thank you,”

         shelby gave a nod. it was only eight pm according to her watch, so she had some time before she needed to turn in for the night. she climbed onto the catwalk that would allow her to be able to reach the side of his head. megatron turned his head towards her, and shelby saw the device that was near where his ear would be.

         “okay, let me see here…” she said to herself, pulling a flathead screwdriver out of the belt that was around her waist. she managed to wedge the metal of the screwdriver underneath the device, which was bigger than both of her hands. after a few tries, the device popped off and she caught it before it could fall to the ground. “got it off, let me see what i can do,”

         shelby climbed down back to the ground and gently set the device on her workbench, pulling the lamp over so she could see what she was working with. it did indeed look….alien. there were symbols on it, and shelby had a hunch that they were of a language she couldn’t understand.

         “i should be able to repair it enough for you to send a call out to your family,” she said, turning slightly to give her attention to megatron. “it might take me a day…but i should be able to do it,”

         “thank you,” he nodded tiredly. “you have no idea how much i appreciate it,”

         “i have a hunch,” she smiled softly and sat down at her workbench, beginning to work on the device.

         when it was nearing midnight, shelby was completely exhausted. between working on the commlink, she engaged in a conversation with megatron, who answered any and all questions she had. where he was from, what cybertron was like, if he had a lover…

         now that was an interesting topic that made megatron smile.

         “i do, he is my sparkmate,”

         “sparkmate?” she asked, curious.

         “it is the equivalent of what humans would call a lover, or ‘boyfriend’. essentially, it could also be a term relating to human marriage,” megatron explained, a fond expression on his features. “he was the one who believed in me, even when he and i were on opposite sides,”

         “he sounds wonderful,” shelby said, unable to keep herself from smiling softly.

         “what about you? do you have a lover?”

         “me? ah, no,” shelby shook her head, grabbing a couple of tools from the rolling tool cart. “i’ve had crushes now and then, but never….really got past that.”

         “crushes?” he looked confused. “i’m not familiar with the term,”

         “oh! yes, crushes are like…..when you like someone, but most times you’re too shy to tell them that you like them.” shelby explained, pulling two different colored wires together on the commlink.

         “i see, and you’ve no interest?”

         “my career is more important to me right now,” shelby gave a half-hearted shrug. “maybe in the near future, but who knows,”

         she couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with a giant metal titan.

         when 12:30 came around, shelby noticed her eyes were going cross and she let out a soft sigh, rubbing at her eyes. “i gotta get some sleep,” shelby sighed, standing up and grabbing her cane, leaning her weight on it. “i’ll finishing repairing the commlink tomorrow. i gotta take a shower and get some sleep,”

         “please, there’s no rush,” megatron assured her. “take the time you need to recharge,”

         “right,” shelby nodded, turning all of the lights off except the small one by her workbench. she headed to the door, opening it before turning her gaze back to him. “i’ll be back in the morning, goodnight,”

         “recharge well,”

         shelby closed the door after walking out and, just as a precaution, locked it. just in case. with that, she headed into the house to shower and get some sleep.

[pickledpascal]

Love’s Train

Chapter Four: 2020: A Semblance of Normalcy

Warnings: existential crisis, sneaking out.

A/N: pandemic doesn’t exist, fuck that

Word Count: 1.4k

Love’s Train Masterlist

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Two years passed and Quinn was slowly starting to become a normal girl again. Besides the fact that her best friend was a yellow and black robot that could transform into a Camaro and, well, she certainly didn't look like a normal government official. At twenty-one, her arms were covered in various tattoos and her hair was dyed blue at the tips. She had a handle on all the Congress stuff after a while. As it all calmed, she wasn't needed as much, so it was the perfect opportunity for her to apply to colleges. She still wanted that degree, hoping she'd get a cool job with inventing. 

Who could pass up accepting the woman who spoke for the Autobots in their college? 

Which meant Quinn had her choice among what felt like hundreds of different colleges but her parents wanted her to be somewhere close. Preferably in-state. So she did. The college she chose was a two hour drive away from the five acre piece of land her parents owned. Far enough for Quinn to feel independent but close enough that she could drive back for a weekend if she wanted. 

To celebrate Quinn going to college, her parents threw a party. They invited friends and family from all over. Not that Quinn ever really met them but she appreciated the gesture. 

She made her way outside the two-story home, through the porch door and sighed as she stared at the setting sun. Most of the party-goers were inside, getting drunk and laughing with friends. Quinn looked back inside for a moment, catching a glimpse of her brother clinking a beer with someone. She let out a light laugh. 

Seeing Jake drunk was always fun to watch. Especially when he wanted to challenge Quinn to a beer pong game. He'd somehow win yet be leagues drunker than Quinn. 

A horn honking grabbed Quinn's attention. She realized it was Bee when his car door opened. Skipping her own party? What was more Quinn Harlow than that? She glanced back at her house before she stepped down from the porch and quickly got in Bee's driver's seat. The car moved as soon as Quinn got in, traveling down the dirt road that was shaded by tall trees.

"Where we going Bee?" Quinn asked, cocking her head as she looked around. She'd played in these woods when she was younger, even went camping with her family since it wasn't too far from the house.

Bee didn't respond, just the sound of his engine purring and his tires moving against dirt. That wasn't like him….

Soon, Bee stopped. He opened the driver's side door to signal Quinn to get out which she did. She looked at Bumblebee with narrowed eyes before she caught sight of that blue truck with red flames driving towards her. It stopped until it was just a few inches away from her then Quinn could see Optimus transforming into his Bot form. Gears, parts, lights, and tires rolling into place until Quinn could properly see the thirty foot tall bot. He kneeled down to be face to face with Quinn. Even then, she had to tilt her head up to look at him.

"Hello, Quinn Harlow." A deep voice rang out from in between his metallic lips, one she didn't expect but it fit. "I must commend you for all the things you've done for our race." Optimus hummed, blue optics taking in Quinn's form. Almost as if he was studying it.

It seemed all Autobots had blue optics, a detail Quinn would come to know very well.

Quinn was speechless. She'd seen Bee transform all the time but this… it was different. Optimus was a prime. The peak form of a Cybertronian. Perhaps that's why he was so goddamn big. 

The human coughed slightly and shrugged. "I, um, it's nothing." Quinn quickly said as she felt something start to prickle at her forearm. She tried to ignore it best she could. Whatever it was, it wasn't as important as meeting Optimus.

"It's not nothing." Optimus huffed out a laugh, a noise Quinn wasn't sure Optimus was capable of but it seemed he was full of surprises. "Every time you walk into that white building, you risk being ridiculed and endangered. I'm glad to call you a friend." He nodded, holding up his hand to Quinn's.

Quinn's eyes flicked from Optimus' face to the hand in front of her. It was probably as big as her entire body and she was six feet tall, above average for girls. "Um, you too." She smiled, awkwardly taking one of his fingers in her hand and shaking it. 

Optimus lowered his head a bit to be more level with Quinn and took his hand away. "I must also congratulate you on being admitted into college. As I understand these past few years have… as you say, thrown a wrench in your plans." He was certainly much more composed than his Autobot brothers. He spoke eloquently and clearly.

If only little Quinn could see her now. Conversing with that blue and red truck who led the Autobots.

"Th-Thanks." Quinn stammered slightly. Seeing Optimus close up was intimidating yet weirdly… attractive. She could see the little details of the metal plates that made up his face. "I mean, helping friends is more important than anything, right?" Quinn glanced back at Bumblebee who had transformed into his Bot form and sat at the stump of a tree.

"If only other humans could be as gracious as you." Optimus smiled lightly, a bit of a bitter tone in his voice. Not at Quinn. She could tell that already. 

—------

As Bee dropped Quinn back off at her house, she immediately made her way up to her room. That prickling on her arm was starting to bother her to no end. Like an itch she couldn't scratch. Quinn threw off the jacket she wore and rolled up her sleeve to see if anything was stuck on her skin or anything. 

There was nothing. No little bug that had managed to crawl its way into her sleeve, no raised red rash. Nothing. Well, except…. 

In the Cybertronian language, a deep blue mark appeared on the expanse of Quinn's forearm. While she couldn't read what it meant, she could tell what it was. Her soul mark appeared.

Right as she met the leader of the Autobots.

"Holy fuck." Quinn blinked, eyes wide as she slowly lowered herself onto her bed.

Of course she just had to be soulmates with Optimus fucking Prime. An alien robot. To be fair, she loved Bumblebee. But that was platonic. Like a brother and sister. But to be in love with a Cybertronian? As a human? It was hard to wrap her head around. Could they even… no, she didn't need to think about that. 

Quinn ran her hands through her hair. It was bittersweet. After all this time of wanting any sort of soul mark and she finally had it. But her soulmate wasn't human. She didn't think it was possible. But perhaps Cybertronians were more human than she had originally thought. Quinn took a few deep breaths, shaking her head from her thoughts. 

It's not like Optimus had a mark. He wouldn't have to know, especially if he didn't know about humans having soul marks to begin with. So it would be easy to hide. 

"It's okay, Quinn. You have a mark now, you're alright." Quinn whispered, trying to calm herself. 

Her thoughts about Optimus, being desperate to meet him, feeling almost betrayed when he crossed paths with her, it started to make sense. Quinn pursed her lips before she looked at her mark again. She'd saved a space for it among all the tattoos she got, still holding out hope. At least it looked at home among all the ink around it. 

If Optimus didn't know already then Quinn certainly wouldn't tell him. Not right away. Maybe down the line, when they actually start to know each other. That night was only a meeting to finally see each other for the first time. The human fighting for Cybertronian rights and the leader of the Autobots would have to meet eventually.

Funny how their paths were so acutely intertwined. 

Quinn let out a breath. College was just around the corner, that would give her time. Time to breathe, to get her thoughts together, to figure out what the hell she was gonna do. 

[welidot]

Hillary Clinton

This Biography is about one of the best Professional Politician of the world Hillary Clinton including her Height, weight, Age & Other Detail… Express info Real Name Hillary Diane Rodham Clinton Nickname Hillary, Hill, HRod, Mrs. Clinton Profession Politician Age (as in 2023) 75 Years old Physical Stats & More Info Party Democratic Party Political Journey • In January 1979, Hillary Clinton became First Lady of Arkansas and retained the title for twelve years (1979-1981, 1983-1992). • She became the First Lady of the United States in January 1993. • In the year 2000, she was chosen by the Democratic Party to run in the Senate Election. • She won the Senate Election with 55% of vote on November 7, 2000. • On January 3, 2001, Hillary Clinton was sworn in as US Senator. • She gave her service on five senate committees - Committee on Budget (2001–2002), Committee on Armed Services (2003–2009), Committee on Environment and Public Works (2001–2009), Committee on Health, Education, Labor and Pensions (2001–2009) and Special Committee on Aging. • In November 2004, she announced to run for a second senate term. • She won the senate election for the second time with 67% of the vote on November 7, 2006. • On January 20, 2007, Hillary Clinton announced her candidacy for the United States Presidential Election of 2008. • She lost South Carolina primary to Obama by two-to-one. • She supported Obama at the 2008 Democratic National Convention by giving a passionate speech. • On December 1, 2008, Obama announced Hillary Clinton as his nominee for Secretary of State. • She took the oath of office of Secretary of State of USA on January 21, 2009. • She has announced her candidacy for the United States Presidential Election of 2016 and at present she is campaigning for the same. • On 8 November 2016, she was defeated by the Republican Donald Trump in the 2016 United States Presidential Election. Biggest Rival Donald Trump Physical Stats & More Of Hillary Clinton Height in centimeters- 167 cm in meters- 1.67 m in Feet Inches- 5’ 6” Weight in Kilograms- 60 kg in Pounds- 132 lbs Eye Colour Blue Hair Colour Blonde Personal Life Of Hillary Clinton Date of Birth October 26, 1947 Birth Place Edgewater Hospital in Chicago, Illinois Zodiac sign/Sun sign Scorpio Nationality American Hometown Chicago, Illinois, USA School Park Ridge, Maine East High School (1964), Maine South High School (1964–1965) College Wellesley College (1965–1969), Yale Law School (1969–1973) Educational Qualifications Bachelor of arts with Departrmental honors in Political Science Debut 1996 Family Father- Hugh Ellsworth Rodham (American businessman) Mother- Dorothy Howell Rodham (American Homemaker) Brothers- Tony Rodham (Consultant), Hugh Rodham (Lawyer) Sisters- N/A Religion Methodist Address 55 West 125th Street New York, USA Hobbies Swimming, Home decor, gardening, playing scrabble, doing crossword puzzles Controversies • Her email controversy is at the top on the list of Hillary Clinton's controversy where she has been criticized for using her personal account to send classified documents during her tenure as United States Secretary of States. • In 1978, Hillary and Bill Clinton were criticized for buying acres of riverfront land to form Whitewater Development Corp. through wrong means. • Clinton Foundation has been criticized for the errors in its tax returns. • She has been criticized in Benghazi case for failing to protect US interests abroad. • She has been criticized for delivering a speech on inequality by wearing a Giorgio Armani jacket worth 12000 USD. Favourite Things Of Hillary Clinton Favorite Politician Martin Luther King Jr. Favorite Quote "Human rights are women's rights. Women's rights are human rights". Favorite Food Hot sauces, DeFrazio’s Pizzeria in Troy, apple, burgers, ice creams, wine Favorite Film Casablanca, The Wizard of Oz, Out of Africa Favorite Book Fyodor Dostoyevsky's 'The Brothers Karamazov', The Return of the Prodigal Son Boys, Affairs and More Of Hillary Clinton Marital Status Married Affairs/Boyfriends Not Known Husband Bill Clinton (married 1975) Children Daughter- Chelsea Clinton (born February 27, 1980) Earning Money Of Hillary Clinton Net Worth 22 million USD This Biography written by www.welidot.com Read the full article

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Acres N Inches is one of the leading real estate Companies in Noida with a clientele spread not just all over the country but also extending up to the U.S., Canada, Europe, China, Australia, and the Middle East. It has been many quick years of commitment & hard work & most importantly, teamwork. Bhutani cyberthum my pod It has made Acres N Inches the most reliable & customer-centric real estate company in North India by setting the highest moral standards in the Indian Real Estate Industry. Today, the ANI OFFICIALBest Real Estate Company in Noida Your presence all over Urban India through our wisely shortlisted Associated and Employees while giving the most professional and robust service to our Customers all across the world, creating a life-long bond with our Customers, Employees & Business Associates Our company is credited with the very simple yet revolutionary concept of developing transparency in the Indian Real Estate Market. With the visualization of creating an honest and robust environment thereby giving respect & clarity to every stakeholder involved, our main aim is to provide customer satisfaction. The company has a simple yet effective business strategy – “Honesty is still the best policy”.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Tuesday 4 August 1835

..

11 ½

was 8 10 am before we alighted at the Bull and Mouth Inn - Bull and mouth street opposite the new post office - again reo expectation of gentry - sometime before we could get room or anything - at last a civil waiter, and in course of time did very fairly - a small sitting room with a sofa in it, and breakfast came at 9 - afterwards a bedroom to dress in - at 10 55 sent off John with a porter and a note to Messrs. Pearce Baxter and co. coach builders 103 London acre begging them to send me the carriage and my servant being a stranger in London to order a pair of good horses and steady driver for the day - said I should be at 24 or 26 Dover street Hawkins’ family hotel, to dinner at 6 pm and if Mr Pearce would send over a trusty person then pay the bill received at Shibden hall a few days ago - then had E- to put hair in papers and wrote the whole of yesterday and so far of today till 12 - then a thorough washing and dressing till 1 10 - the carriage arrived at 1 ½ - our dresses put into the imperials and bonnets into the cap-case - both servants dined - off from the Bull and mouth at 2 ¾ - drove to the British and foreign  central school Borough road, as recommended by Mr Patience  (master of lady de Grey’s school, at Skelton, near Borough vide Sat 18 July) inquired for the secretary Mr Dunn - out of town - for the superintendent Mr Crostley - not certain whether he was the person who came to us or not, but the one who came was very civil - shewed us into the boys’ and then the girls’ school rooms and would gladly have had us examine the children but we declined on the plea of not knowing anything of the system - bought the 2 books explanatory public by the committee - our impression respecting the school was not quite satisfactory - we thought the children rough and not neat and the master liberal enough to be both radical and dissenter - we fancied the system was a sort of gradual undermining of this church and tory politics - we said our Sunday school scholars must go to church and our master and mistress must be church people - we were told that the education at the church national school was too confined that they seemed afraid of teaching the children too much - we civilly regretted this and came away and determined not to have a master from the British and foreign central school if we could manage the matter another way - then drove to Rivington’s - A- bought 2 or 3 books among the rest Britton’s picture of London - R- recommends the national school - should write to the secretary Mr (Reverend) Wigram author of nice little work on Sunday schools, and he would be most likely to find us a school master and mistress - or if not in London should apply to the manager the revered Mr Johnson - A- left her watch at Rundle [Rundell] and Bridges’ - could not be regulated in time so to be sent to my address at Shibden - then to Howell and James’s to look for something to give Charlotte S- [Stuart] on her approaching marriage - work boxes from 9 to 14 +  guineas and one with writing desk 26 guineas - envelope and note-paper holder (very pretty and novel) 3 ½ guineas - could have a very pretty little gold padlock put to it for 2 ½ guineas extra -  alighted at Hawkins’ 26 Dover street at 5 ½ - dinner at 6 - had Pearce the coachmaker - paid him his bill for repairs (new wheels and patent axles etc etc) to the carriage £140.8.6 - then had Peat the sadler, Piccadilly, opposite Bond street, recommended by Norcliffe - said not a word of the letter N- gave me - merely observed that he (P-) was recommended to me by an old military friend - ordered a side saddle - gave the tape-measures Wheatley had taken - said the pony was 13 hands and an inch but wished the saddle to be able to be made (fit) a larger animal also if required - to be done in 10 days and sent to Shibden - price about 7 guineas - should have white girths and 2 pair of each saddle - at 8 ½ wrote and sent little note to the ‘Lady Stuart de Rothsay 3 Carlton house terrace’ to say I was just arrived for 2 or 3 days and if she would be at home tomorrow I would call - then tea and reading Picture of London (about schools) till 10 ¾ - very fine day - F70° in my dressing room at 11 10

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[ad_1] Discerning Texas patrons solely have one month left within the 12 months to buy that subsequent dream residence. Fortuitously, the Lone Star State gives loads of luxurious, multi-million-dollar properties for savvy consumers. With that in thoughts, the Houston Affiliation of Realtors has revealed the most costly stock (learn: the ten priciest properties) presently available on the market from November onwards all through Texas.These posh properties vary from new-build masterpieces and marvelously fashionable estates and astonishing abodes. Locals will wish to try the award-winning $12.5 million West Austin residence.1. 319 Verna Path N., Fort ValueListing value: $15.9 millionThe Lazy H ranch is positioned on 50 acres of land.Photograph courtesy of HAR.comThe No. 1 most costly residence available on the market in November was 319 Verna Trl. N. in western Fort Value. Dubbed the Lazy H Ranch, this personal property is positioned on 50 acres of sprawling land. Every of the 4 bedrooms in the primary home have their very own en-suites, with a further two half baths elsewhere. The 6,500-square-foot primary residence additionally boasts a media room geared up with a 100-inch TV, and a state-of-the-art kitchen with Miele home equipment. Outside options embody a reverse osmosis pool, a fuel hearth pit, a climate-controlled patio (made potential by the house's GeoThermal system), and an infrared sauna within the pool tub.Elsewhere on the property are two casitas, every boasting two bedrooms and two bogs with fenced patios and huge backyards. The eight-stall steady barn comprises a vet room with a business washer and dryer, fridge, workplace, a half tub, tack room, a separate saddle room, and two workshops. A steady caretaker's residence can be positioned on the property. Extra facilities embody a hay barn, tools barn, eight pastures, and rather more. 2. 862 Grape Creek Street, FredericksburgListing value: $14.9 millionGrape Creek Property is a perfect personal compound for a household.Photograph courtesy of HAR.comPrivateness is the central thought behind Texas' second most costly actual property itemizing in November. 862 Grape Creek Street in Fredericksburg comprises two property properties and a visitor home throughout 116 acres of wooded Hill Nation land."The property is absolutely fenced, gated, a paved highway system connecting all enhancements, beneath floor utilities and three wells with massive cisterns," the itemizing says. "The property was designed for a household compound providing privateness between the 2 primary properties and visitor home."3. 4625 Walnut Hill Lane, DallasListing value: $14.75 millionThe ceilings on the primary ground vary from 12 to 22 toes excessive.Photograph courtesy of HAR.comA contemporary residence at 4625 Walnut Hill Ln. in Dallas is the primary new building residence that made it on HAR's listing of the most costly Texas listings final month. The itemizing brags that the 11,858-square-foot house is "Preston Hole fashionable residing at its most interesting" whereas additionally being priced on the lowest cost-per-square-foot in Dallas."The home is surrounded by over 70 evergreen timber coupled with a tall aluminum fence, establishing a really personal sanctuary," the itemizing says. "[The fence's] computerized gates open to [the] granite driveway and results in [a] five-car storage with aluminum doorways that includes epoxy flooring."The home options 5 bedrooms, six full bogs, one half tub, excessive ceilings all through the primary ground, an open-concept residing house, wooden flooring, marble accents, and extra. 4. 419 Lighthouse Drive, Horseshoe BayListing value: $14.5 millionThere are lake views from each room at 419 Lighthouse Dr. in Horseshoe Bay.Photograph courtesy of HAR.comWhereas modernity has been a dominant design characteristic between the highest three most costly properties, 419 Lighthouse Dr. in Horseshoe Bay takes a a lot completely different strategy. This grandiose Spanish

Colonial lake residence sits on two related heaps with waterfront entry to Slickrock Creek which leads into the Colorado River. The 2-story residence was in-built 2015 with six bedrooms, seven full bogs, and three half baths. The home's exterior is constructed from stable, hand-cut limestone blocks that creates a distinguished look that additionally reveals a timeless luxurious. A couple of different defining traits of the house embody a number of antiquely-carved seventeenth century doorways, reclaimed ceiling beams, vintage French limestone flooring, French oak wooden flooring, and extra.5. 4231 W. Lawther Drive, DallasListing value: $13.98 millionPhotograph courtesy of HAR.comThose that benefit from the coveted White Rock Lake space of Dallas will certainly covet this residence on the sought-after Lawther Drive in Lakewood. Sitting greater than 3.6+ acres of prime land alongside White Rock Lake, this property gives an unparalleled waterfront residing expertise. 5 bed room suites, 5 full baths, and three half tub soffers ample house and privateness; a gourmand kitchen with customized cabinetry and top-of-the-line Viking, Subzero, and Wolf home equipment, good for grasp residence cooks. Three residing areas, three suites, and a sport room with a moist bar make for superb gathering locations for household, associates, and friends. Preferrred for a getaway or get together house, an 2,775 square-foot basement makes for much more group house. Automotive collectors and huge teams can park it in the13-car coated parking space. For privateness, friends can crash within the 785 square-foot full visitor quarters, whereas a three-stall barn, pool home, an 820 square-foot workshop deliver the outdoorsy lake life residence. Take within the surroundings on the 2735 square-foot of exterior patios and porches, which provide majestic lake views.6. 3217 Del Monte Drive, HoustonListing value: $13.5 millionRegardless of nonetheless being beneath building, 3217 Del Monte Dr. in Houston is already proving to be a wonderful masterpiece.Photograph courtesy of HAR.comThis resplendent new building residence in Houston's River Oaks neighborhood was the one property in Higher Houston to make it onto HAR's listing of the most costly properties on the market in November. The house 3217 Del Monte Dr. is impressed by English Jacobean manors and was designed by native luxurious residence builders Fifty Seventh + seventh.Whereas the house is not utterly completed but, architect Robert Dame has a grand imaginative and prescient for the ultimate product, which features a two-floor entryway, a private library, a eating space with a show-stopping metal and glass wine room, a catering kitchen, a bar and tasting room, and rather more. As soon as completed, the house may have six bedrooms, which features a second-floor main suite that opens to a terrace. 7. 4020 Glenwick Lane, College ParkListing value: $13.4 millionThe second ground balcony overlooks the turfed yard and pool.Photograph courtesy of HAR.comAs of December 1, the luxuriously fashionable residence at 4020 Glenwick Lane in College Park is beneath contract, nevertheless it was the seventh most costly Texas actual property itemizing in November. The property is positioned on a .59 acre lot in some of the fascinating neighborhoods in Dallas.The ten,111-square-foot residence options 5 bedrooms, 5 full bogs, two half baths, and a three-car outsized storage. Extra highlights embody Italian-imported travertine tile all through the house, Sky Body phantom doorways that join the indoor and out of doors areas for a wonderfully seamless look, a turfed again yard, a marble waterfall moist bar, pool, fountain, and spa.8. 2449 Mountain View Courtroom, Cedar HillListing value: $12.9 millionIt prices a fairly penny to have views like this 24/7.Photograph courtesy of HAR.comWhereas friends might not discover mountain views at 2449 Mountain View Ct. in Cedar Hill, they're going to undoubtedly be glad with the beautiful panoramic visuals of Joe Pool Lake from the consolation of the yard resort-style pool.

This Dallas-Fort Value paradise property boasts a 13,739-square-foot mansion on greater than 4 acres of land.The Mediterranean-style abode boasts eight bedrooms, eight full bogs, and two half baths. Three ornate floating stairways result in the second ground, which showcases comparable breathtaking views that attain a whole lot of miles into Fort Value and Las Colinas. The gourmand kitchen is supplied with quartz counters, Wolf and SubZero home equipment, a butler's pantry, and a wine room. However essentially the most spectacular options of the property are positioned simply outdoors the house."Designed for an expensive way of life, the magnificent mansion options...a resort fashion pool that includes two grottos, waterfalls and water options, a sunken hearth pit, hearth sconces, and a cabana with out of doors kitchen and tub," the itemizing says.9. 19525 Doerre Street, SpringListing value: $12.79 million19525 Doerre Rd. is completely suited to host retreats, trip leases, or will be become an assisted residing middle.Photograph courtesy of HAR.comNovember's penultimate priciest Texas actual property itemizing is none aside from the gargantuan retreat middle at 19525 Doerre Rd. in Spring. The property consists of 1 gargantuan primary property, and 5 separate estates on 10 perfectly-manicured acres of land. Different options of the property embody an hooked up five-car storage, a indifferent six-car storage with a storage residence; a two-bay RV storage, a health middle, resort-style pool, tennis court docket, and sand volleyball court docket. Large households can stay up for a 40,000-plus-square-foot house providing wherever from eight to 30 — sure, 30 — bedrooms. 10. 2502 Oestrick Lane, AustinListing value: $12.5 millionFlooring-to-ceiling home windows show the whole lot of the again yard, however ceiling curtain tracks encompass the room to supply friends with the final word privateness.Photograph courtesy of HAR.comThe ultimate property that was among the many most costly Texas listings in November is a beautiful award-winning residence located within the hills of West Austin. 2502 Oestrick Ln. is a 5 bed room, 5 full rest room and two half tub Hill Nation paradise brimming with pure gentle and expertly-designed modernity. The house sits on a 3.7 acre property and was initially in-built 2014, in response to the itemizing."The inside areas are research within the manipulation of pure gentle, achieved by means of the strategic placement of home windows, skylights, and progressive ceiling geometries," the itemizing says. "The selection of heat, luminescent supplies for cabinetry and partitions juxtaposes the economic simplicity of concrete flooring, cultivating an environment of calm sophistication."With a listing value of $12.5 million, it is no marvel how this progressive residence has earned its many accolades, together with The 2018 Structure Grasp Prize and the 2017 American Structure Award. [ad_2] Supply hyperlink

[cool-tucson-az]

ARI on Fourth in Tucson, AZ

The existence of ARI on Fourth is noticeable these days. When it comes to 4 bedroom apartments near University of Arizona area, you can rely on their wonderful place. If you’re curious about the apartment complex, let’s discuss a little about it. The people who are planning to stay in a luxurious apartment are lucky. The said place is for you to come home to a modern living space with sophisticated perks including an expansive amenity deck with a sparkling resort style pool, state-of-the-art fitness center, Zen terrace for unwinding, co-working lounge, sauna/relaxation room, multi-levels of private lounges and the Sky Club House, with sweeping views of the city. Remarkable, isn’t it?

Tucson, AZ

At present, you can include pre-planned activities posted on Eventbrite if you’re creating an itinerary for your travel to Tucson, AZ. First, there will be Saguaro Stewardship Experience this coming Saturday, January 6, 2023, at around 8:00 AM at Saguaro National Park East. Second, the Arizona FILM READY Crew - PA Certification Program is scheduled on Monday, January 8, 2023, at around 8:00 AM at Pima Community College - West Campus. Lastly, you can also opt to attend the Winter Soup Hands-On Cooking Class on Saturday, January 13, 2023, at around 10:00 AM at The Garden Kitchen - University of Arizona.

Tumamoc Hill

Have you heard about Tumamoc Hill recently? Well, it is located near Tucson, AZ. Basically, Tumamoc Hill (O'odham: Cemamagĭ Doʼag) is a butte situated immediately west of "A" Mountain and downtown Tucson, Arizona. Moreover, it is home to many radio, television, and public safety transmitters. Aside from that, the 860-acre ecological reserve and U.S. National Historic Landmark was established by the Carnegie Institution in 1903. Then, the University of Arizona or UA owns a 340-acre preserve and leases another 509 acres as a research and education facility. Lastly, the Steward Observatory maintains a small astronomical observatory with a 20-inch telescope on the hill.

Congressman Juan Ciscomani holds border crisis round table in Sierra Vista

These days, there are many interesting news reports in Tucson, AZ. In a recent news article, the topic was about Congressman Juan Ciscomani. Reportedly, Congressman Juan Ciscomani started his round table stating there is no end in sight for the crisis at the border. However, he also said it’s an issue that has united people across the political spectrum. Rep. Ciscomani told local leaders from several counties across Southern Arizona that, “This is really an issue that both sides are seeing for what it is…. a true crisis.” He also called out the Biden Administration for closing the Lukeville Port of Entry because he mentioned they did not give leaders enough of a heads up about the closure.

Link to maps

Tumamoc Hill Tumamoc Hill Rd, Tucson, AZ 85745, United States Head north on Tumamoc Hill Rd toward W Anklam Rd 26 sec (240 ft) Follow N Silverbell Rd, W Congress St and W Broadway Blvd to N 4th Ave 9 min (2.4 mi) Continue on N 4th Ave. Drive to N Stevens Ave 1 min (0.2 mi) ARI on Fourth 213 N 4th Ave, Tucson, AZ 85705, United States

[limestoner]

I am jiggly yet soft. I am fruity yet clear.

I am jello.

What am I?

The world is jello. You are jello. I am jello.

That looks delicious. I would eat all of them. Ohhhh, the ogre Runiks cubes! I thought someone just made rainbow jello parfait and then cut it into cubes. And was showing it off like a colorful gem.

I like to hold opals really close to the corner of my eye and then see the light reflecting from the opal and that iridescent sheen is a prize for the eyes.

I could watch it forever but I wish there were no brown spots to interrupt it.

The Pineapple Express makes me feel like a long distance passenger train. Like I’m just cruising along looking out the window but my brain train* continues on a relatively smooth course. (Pause) So my thoughts were all connected and not completely random from one to the next like Snowman. (Pause)

*Brain train: exp. I was like what’s that expression for how your thoughts all go in a line with some sort of organization and sometimes it derails. Now o temembebr it was “train of thought.” I like mine better though. “Whoo whooo! All aboard the Brain Train. Axons Express. Grey Matter Line. The Basal Ganglia Shuttle.

The Brain Train, c. right now. It travels alongside the corpus callosum for

I made these typos when I tried to write corpus callosum. I thought that seems like a name I’d hear a kid have. But then I thought more.

Calosyn

Calyson

Callison

Callison sounds nice to me rn. it’s newly/inadvertently made because it resembled some boy and girl naming trends. It seems maybe a little more like a girl name, but would boys bully another boy about the name? Maybe, maybe not.

The name Callison

Callipillar Caterson ?that’s me)

Callison Pillarcat.

Callar Pact Act

🐛🌿

The Very High Cappertiller Caterpillar.

adapted from the works of Lewis Caroll and Eric Carle (I’m so sorry. It’s not original or funny to most people but to me jt is both unless there is a reason it shouldn’t be funny.)

‘Twas brillig, the light of the moon

Did shine and shinkle out in space

Because down below, a little a little hemp plant had a little white leaf (it was White Runtz, you see) and on the leaf there was a little hookah. And on just the tiniest tip of the tiny hookah. There was a little egg. A sticky egg.

On a hazy Saturday afternoon, when the sun was high too, the tiniest caterpillar came out of the tiniest egg. A tiny hempy caterpillar.

He ate the leaf and then noticed all the sticky buds that looked like his egg, but bigger. He started to look for some bud.

On Saturday he blazed through a bowl of Purple Punch.

On Sunday he blazed through two bowls of Watermelon Zkittlez.

On Monday he blazed through four bowls of Sour Tangie.

On Tuesday he blazed through twenty seven bowls of Ice Cream Cake.

On Wednesday he blazed through 163 bowls of Apple Fritter. But he was not a little caterpillar anymore. He was a 3incj high, 3 inch around chonk caterpillar.

The next day was Thursday again. Thursday, 4 May, 1865. Because he was still high from the day before, he decided to blaze through a whole 40 acre hemp forest of Blueberry Muffin.

That day he had a bad trip.

He was smoking his hookah making vowels and singing like normal when some random size changing girl came up staring at him. He asked who the girl was and she just kept asking questions and when she made fun of his height the caterpillar smoked and smoked in a cloud house leaving only his… clothes..: behind. Oh and the hookah.

He was a beautiful butterfly! Somehow he ended up riding on a river of mud and tears and the size changing girl was still there too. Finally he took a big rip and came out of his trance. He ate a Green Crack leaf and felt better.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSUGAR I thought this all deleted because I had to look up the books. SMTG. That’s the most consonanty consonants in “something”. H and N have vocalic features and are combined in digraphs. What if I abbrev I ate it heh to just the vowels;

I had to look OHEI up! Maybe a language like Mandarin or Arabic would make a vowel abbrev because of the meaning conveyed by vowel change. Maybe every language prefers consonantly abbrevs. Just nvm.

I want this so I’m saving it