Hello there! My apologies for not posting in a bit; life is insane (working full time, prepping for surgery this week, mentally preparing for surgery this week, etc.). I wanted to do something for Learning to Live’s birthday, so I thought I’d share this art I had done by the amazing @kenobiwanx for my Javier wall! It’s so beautiful, and I love how perfectly she captured the hand size difference with them holding the tomatoes. 😭😭😭 Thank you for bringing my vision to life!
Happy birthday to the story that’s been a huge part of my life and has gotten me through SO MUCH over the last 4 years! I don’t know how I would’ve survived without Javi, Cielito, and their happy lil world. And thank you to everyone who has joined me on this adventure! You have no idea how much your love and support for this fic has meant to me. I truly cherish every comment and ask I get about it. They make me so fucking happy!! THANK YOU!!! I love you all!!!! ❤️❤️❤️
How about a throwback to the Farmers Market chapter of LTL:
“It’s time for you to use the knowledge I bestowed,” you said, the two of you standing at a large booth with crates upon crates of colorful produce displayed on many tables. You let go of his hand, pointing at some tomatoes in front of you. “Find us the perfect tomato, babe. I’ll make you my version of a BLT for lunch.”
He looked at you, eyebrows furrowing.
“What’s your version?”
“A secret you will soon discover when we get back to my place,” you said with a smile.
He nodded, looking back at the vegetables, staring them down with a serious look, like he was trying to intimidate them into speaking. You smiled, because it was the same expression he had the first time you saw him at the grocery store. He picked one up, feeling it in his hand, and you noticed how easily he held it, the large heirloom tomato fitting in his palm. He pressed into it gently to test it.
“Too ripe,” he said, putting it down, and you smiled big, watching with rapt attention. He picked up another, going through the same motions and setting it back down. He looked for a second and picked up another, holding it in his hand, and inspected it before testing it with his thumb. He nodded to himself, holding it out to you. “This one.”
You took it, and you couldn’t wrap your fingers around it, checking it out and lightly pressing into it, the color of it bright red and unblemished. You looked up at him, and he was watching intently.
“Are you positive this is the one you want to go with?” You asked.
He frowned, looking unsure.
“Yeah..?”
You smiled.
“Congratulations, Javi. You picked the perfect tomato.”
This was when he gave you the biggest, happiest, genuine smile that took your breath away, when his dimple appeared and his eyes crinkled at the edges.
“Really?” He asked.
“Really! I’m so proud.”
(Note: Cielito is a reader-insert character and written without physical attributes, so you can picture her however you want. Cielito is you! I just needed a reference for a body, so I chose a model that kind of looked like me. 😊)
The way I saw this in another post, saw the tomatoes and knew exactly what this was art for - I'm only on chapter 5 rn but I can't wait to read the rest... I'm so invested in these two already. This is so gorgeous!
I think about how he likes eggs and bacon— prefers sausage if you have it— and drinks his joe black but sometimes he’ll sneak in a spoonful of sugar because you’re downright terrible at making coffee— you always manage to burn the damn pot somehow (tragically, mystifyingly, beguilingly)— and how he enjoys fly fishing, wading out patiently in some delta stream, knee deep in water and how his mind can finally relax and untangle itself from the past he carries around like an ash-filled urn and he can simply breathe.
And I think about how when he fucks you, he does it like he’s trying to unmake himself in the nest of your womb, as if he’s begging you— for a forgiveness that is not yours to lend, for absolution— and there’s something so desperate in the way he rocks the cradle of his hips against your mound, your legs locked ankle over ankle around his middle—how he pounds into you rough and thorough but plush too, his mouth sucking nectar from your lips as he kisses and kisses and kisses you, searching for redemption in the chalice of your heat, tonguing his hungry devotion and heaven-bound prayers: please love me love me love me
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