#by that i mean i had a panic attack one night and went to my parents room and my dad held me and everything just. immediately slowed
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HCs: Puss dealing with anxiety post-TLW (ft. insomnia)
As someone with GAD, anxiety is the worst at night. Falling asleep and/or staying asleep can be an absolute nightmare (no pun intended). That being said, how would our favorite fearless hero handle such a situation?
In the daytime, when Puss begins to feel that familiar tightness in his chest, distractions are everywhere. Perrito rambling on about god knows what, Kitty offering to spar with him, etc. But in the dark stillness of the night, when everyone else is asleep, there are fewer things the cat can comfort himself with. If he can’t fall asleep, he gets frustrated, which then starts the domino effect as the minutes turn to hours and he still can’t sleep.
With every minute he spends practically forcing himself to go to sleep, his nerves shoot more and more. Suddenly, he’s shaking almost violently, his body feeling cold yet no blanket is enough to warm him. His mind screams at him that something’s wrong, that he needs to get up, but he’s so, so tired and his body just doesn’t have the strength. He just wants to sleep.
One night it becomes too much to bear, and without thinking, Puss throws himself out of bed and steps out onto the main deck of their ship, desperately hoping to get some air. His body wracks with tremors and his eyes are wide but so heavy, but the idea of going back to his bed makes him want to throw up.
He’s not sure how long he’s out there, mindlessly pacing and wringing his paws, when he hears a soft, “Puss?”
His head whips around to see Kitty, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she walks over, “¿Qué te pasa?”
Puss wants to lie, the impulse familiar to him, but he’s just too exhausted to think of a fib right now, and instead holds himself pathetically as he shakes like a leaf, “…can’t sleep,”
There’s a moment of quiet, and then Kitty takes his paws into her own, stilling them to the best of her ability. When Puss meets her face, there’s warmth in her expression, and even more so: understanding.
Kitty takes him back into the cabin, and the next thing he knows, he’s lying with her in her bed. He almost protests, telling her he already tried that, it did nothing, until she presses her chest against his back and wraps her arms around him, purring softly.
And Puss is left to assume that the woman is some kind of enchantress, because the way her warmth envelops his body, chasing away the tremors until he finally stops shaking, is nothing short of magical.
Perrito hops up to join them, spinning around a few times before lying down with a deep sigh, his chin resting on Puss’s thigh.
And now, with his heartbeat finally slowing down — with Kitty’s purrs and murmured whispers of comfort and Perrito’s gentle weight on his leg, his tiny body moving up and down with every breath he takes — Puss’ mind begins to pleasantly cloud over, any and all worries that he may have had already long forgotten. He’s only lying down for five minutes before he finally slips into sleep.
#this is entirely self indulgent and based off personal experience#by that i mean i had a panic attack one night and went to my parents room and my dad held me and everything just. immediately slowed#like im not kidding i was shook#tw anxeity#tw insomnia#puss in boots#puss in boots: the last wish#puss in boots the last wish#kitty softpaws#perrito#kittyboots#uhhh lemme know if y’all want me to do more of these#headcanon#headcanons#hc#hcs
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On Writing Combat and Sex Scenes
Today I want to talk about writing sex and combat (and no, I do not mean combative sex). This post is inspired by a few recent events:
Once, a long time ago, I read a blog post that said “if you can write a combat scene, you can write a sex scene” and that was mind-blowing for me because while I was well-versed in writing erotica, I couldn’t write combat to save my life.
More recently, at Boskone, I participated on a panel about writing combat, and the research involved there-in.
Even more recently, I had someone look at me say, “You’re not a gay guy. How do you write gay sex scenes?”
So. Let’s begin.
I get it—sex and combat aren’t interchangeable. But at their core, they have some strong similarities which can be leveraged while writing. Both are intense, high drama, and can involve a lot of anxiety and quick thought. Both tend to narrow focus down to the moment and the current feeling and action. Both are heightened emotion and physical reaction. Both can involve actions that lie outside the author’s personal experience.
I started writing erotica when I was a freshman in college. I posted it online (does anyone remember rec.arts.erotica?) and was surprised (and pleased) by the compliments I received. Turned out my readers were not expecting the idea of emotion being entangled in their erotica. They were invested emotionally in how the stories went, and how my characters felt. Since I was writing from the point of view that made sense to me at the time, they were het stories from a female perspective, and they were very focused on the emotional connections and how the physical events heightened those emotions.
Male readers were surprised by the intensity of the feelings that these stories gave them (as opposed to pure arousal). It got me thinking about how I wrote, and why I wrote, and I tried to talk about it some at the time. I was eighteen. I was still a new writer. The internet itself was new. I wasn’t entirely certain how to frame it, but I remember getting one comment where a guy was surprised at how struck he’d been by the moment in the scene where everything shuddered to a halt due to an event in the story that interrupted the action, and I replied that that was because I wasn’t writing about the sex. I was writing about the character’s reaction to the sex.
Which has always been how I write. At the time, that was my only tool: put myself in the character’s mind, and write what they feel. If that’s affection and attraction and physical reaction, write that. Tangle it up, and hope the reader feels that entanglement.
Now, fast forward several years, and take a little side trip onto a tangent wherein I learned something very important about writing craft.
I was reading Syne Mitchell’s End in Fire, I think it was, and I kept having panic attacks. Now, I did most of my reading late, often when I woke in the middle of the night due to stress, or just because my brain refused to rest. I was in a rough place in life in general, with a lot of external work stuff going on and very small children. I wasn’t sleeping well. And it took me some time to figure out why I was struggling to read a book which I actually loved (and when I read it later in life, I enjoyed it greatly).
It was the sentence structure.
In order to induce the emotion of the scene, the sentences were short. Sharp. Quick. There was no time for the reader to breathe, much like there was no time for the heroine to do anything but act. The reader was caught up in the rising tension, to the point where my anxious, sleep-deprived brain, caught a panic attack from it.
The technique was brilliant.
Now back to our original timeline, wherein I read a post about how if you can write combat, you can write sex scenes. This post assumed that more people felt comfortable writing violence than sex. I was the reverse. I’d been writing about sex for over a decade when I saw this post, and it made a light bulb go off in my brain.
If writing sex was like writing combat… was the reverse also true? Could I improve my skills at writing battles by analyzing what worked when I wrote erotica?
So I tried doing just that. Back then, I found combat overwhelming. There was so much going on, and I was trying so hard to write good description that I lost all of the intensity. I was focusing on everything that was going on at the same time.
Thinking about how sex scenes were all intense emotion and narrowed focus, I applied that to my combat scenes. I wrote only what the point of view character experienced, and tied everything to their actions and reactions. I thought about how they breathed, how they moved, how they thought. I used those short, sharp sentences as they processed the scene.
That doesn’t mean I forgot about everything else going on in the scene. That’s impossible. After all, in any story the things the character doesn’t pay attention to might be as important as the things they do focus on. Stuff still happens, and there is still fallout. I needed to know what else was happening so that if the character moved from one place to another, or did something that put them in the path of a different part of the action, I could have them start processing it.
But it also meant that on the page, out of sight was out of mind. Everything narrowed down to the now. The immediacy. Suddenly my combat scenes snapped into focus.
During the panel at Boskone, all of the panelists had experience with different fighting styles (fencing, street combat, and of course, me with taekwondo). I spoke about how for me, that narrow focus is very real when I spar. I know there are some people who naturally see a move or two ahead while fighting; I don’t. I am stuck in act and react mode. Can I kick them now? Can I attempt a head shot? Oh, no, circle back and away or they’re going to hit me… that’s how my brain works during a sparring match.
It’s not like a total blackout—there should be a vague awareness of things around the character. Sounds in particular, or sometimes flashes of movement. Something distracting can catch the attention of the fighter, but the personal fight will always pull the character back.
Combat feels easy when I’m writing like that.
Of course, there’s still the question of writing about something if I’ve never experienced it. As someone did point out to me: I am not a gay man, so how does that affect writing sex scenes? I’ve also never fought with a sword. Brawled. Fought from horseback. I have, however, held a blade, shot a gun, shot an arrow, rode a horse. I have a vague idea of how these things work, much like I have a working knowledge of sex in general.
So yes, research gets involved. Sometimes research is observational, sometimes it’s reading (there’s so much good stuff out there). I highly recommend video for combat scenes—find things that have the feel that you’re going for, then put yourself in the place of the character you want to write about. Practice. Work through the ideas of how things fit together, and what your character will (and will not!) know during the fight.
If you need to, stand up and block the scene by thinking about how you would experience it. What can you see, and what is out of sight? If someone is coming at you with a blade, what are your options? How do height differences affect you? Yes, I have asked friends and husband to help me block scenes.
“Stand right there and show me what it looks like if you punch me. Okay, so if I do this then…” Yeah. It’s a thing. But it works.
When doing your research, remember that movie fighting (and hell, movie sex scenes) isn’t realistic. It’s meant to look good. For combat, if you can find re-enactments, or sparring videos, I highly recommend taking a look at those.
Anyway, the point is: I don’t have to have shot someone, and I don’t have to have had gay sex in order to write about them. What I do need to know is how it feels emotionally to do those things, and I can extrapolate that from what I do know. I need to know enough about the details so I can get it right, and that’s where research will help me. Also, use language to create emotion. Because emotions are where we grab the reader, and how we pull them into the scene.
Combat and sex aren’t so different when it comes to writing, and the personal experience. Now, go forth and write!
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Father Figure
Lucifer Morningstar/Platonic!TeenReader
Summary: You'd had a hard time in the sort while you'd been alive, so when your new boss shows you kindness like you've never seen, you can't help but be suspicious...
Warnings: Platonic relationship, teenage fem reader, implied drug use, implied sex work, implied underage sex, dead beat parents, assault, swearing, panic attack, crying, angst, fluff A.N; not sure if I will write a part 2 yet, see how this does!
Word Count: 3102 Hazbin M.list
Hell was a scary place for someone like you. Being a teenager in Hell was less than ideal.
Your parents were useless, always too coked out of their minds to care for you, so you left.
Due to your unfortunate circumstances, you had to resort to some... less than kosher means to survive. It was awful, but it’s all you could do.
One night, one of your clients wouldn’t take no for an answer so when you tried to fight back, things went bad for you.
So here you were.
Luckily, under princess Morningstar’s new work programme, all new sinners would be provided with a job to get them started, if they accepted the help that is. And that’s how you came to be the King of hell’s live in maid.
You’d finally found your way to the mansion, after getting lost multiple times. You felt somewhat intimidated as you stood before the large doors. It just now hit you that you’d be working for the devil himself. The thought made your blood run cold. Why would they give such a high profile job to someone like you? Maybe because you wouldn’t be able to cause any trouble? Either way you couldn’t back out now.
Swallowing back your nerves, you raised a hand and knocked on the door.
Almost immediately the door swung open to reveal a short man, who seemed a little too keen to interact with you.
‘Why hello there! Something I can help you with?’... Was he waiting by the door?
‘I uh- I was told to come here to work?’ You handed him your work certificate, and he quickly scanned it over before breaking out into a smile.
‘Wow! I didn’t expect to get someone so soon!’ It was only after Lucifer read the paper, did he properly look at you. His smile faltered slightly.
‘Uh sorry to be blunt, but you look a little... young?’
‘Well I’m 16.’ You laughed nervously. ‘Is that not ok? I promise I’ll be a good worker!’ Lucifer frowned deeply at your sudden panicked rambling.
It wasn’t uncommon for people to die young, but to end up in Hell?
He knew Earth could be a terrible place, but what could you have done at such a young age to end up here.
‘No no! Just me thinking out loud haha.’ Lucifer quickly backtracked. ‘Please come in.’ He moved to allow you to pass by, now smiling again. You entered, realising you were only slightly shorted than him as you passed by.
Maybe working for the Devil wouldn’t be as scary as you thought.
‘You have no idea how long I’ve needed a maid. I hate cleaning!’ He sighed out dramatically.
Over the coming months, you’d settled well into your job. You suppose you had it easy when it came to jobs in Hell. Cleaning was pretty easy.
Lucifer mostly left you to your own devices, thinking you wouldn’t want to hang out with an old man like him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t make an effort with you.
The first time he approached you in the middle of the day, was to gift you a mobile phone.
‘Hey!’ He slid up to you out of nowhere, making you jump out of your skin. ‘Realised you don’t have a phone! Can’t check in if you don’t have one of those!’ You weren’t used to receiving gifts with no strings attached, But Lucifer didn’t seem to have ulterior motives, so you tentatively accepted.
‘Oh! I’ll even give you my daughters number! You two will get on like a house on fire!’
Another encounter was on an evening. Lucifer was finishing up his supper, when he aught sight of you scurrying round the foyer. He called out for you to come over.
‘Have you eaten yet? It’s getting pretty late...’ You couldn’t help but feel touched that he was seemingly looking out for you.
‘I still have a lot to do... I’m a little behind today...’ You trailed off, worried about being scolded for being tardy.
‘Nonsense! Please join me, there’s way too much for just me anyway.’ Lucifer insisted, jumping up and pulling a chair out for you.
‘Are you sure that’s ok?’ You asked, still a little reserved of his kindness.
‘Of course! Always happy for the company.’
Lucifer could read you like a book. He knew you were still nervous and skeptical of him, but he couldn’t blame you. He still didn’t know the circumstances for you to end up in Hell, plus you were so young, it would take a lot to trust.
Even though you worked for him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel protective of you.
One of the more recent incidents, was when you got hurt.
The house chef was running out of ingredients, so he asked you to run out and grab them. You happily agreed since you didn’t really have any reason to leave the house otherwise.
Ok. Maybe you’d gone a little over bored, you thought as you juggled the heavy bags in your arms.
‘Hey baby! Need some help with those?’ You looked over and saw a group of 3 men leering at you. You smiled nervously and said ‘ No thank you.’ Before turning round, hoping to get away without any trouble.
‘Hey do you know who your talking to? Don’t be rude!’ One of the men grabbed your arm, causing you to drop your bags.
‘Don’t touch me!’ You screamed out, trying to pry your arm from his grip.
‘We were just offering to walk you home lady, but if you want to get down here, that’s fine by us.’ The second man sneered at you with a smirk as he grabbed your face hard.
Your eyes widened at his words. You were now struggling even more, to no avail. The final man cam up behind you and grabbed your other arm in an attempt to keep you still.
‘Stop struggling will ya!’ The man in front of you spat out, shaking you by the arm. He shook you so violently, that the long sleeve of your dress began to rip. You took advantage of this. Pulling your arm back so hard, your sleeve came off in his hand.
The attacker behind you hadn’t been expected you to fall backwards, so he lost his grip on your arm, giving you just enough time to book it in the direction of Lucifer’s home.
You could hear them running and shouting after you, but you didn’t look back. It wasn’t far now. You just had to make it back to the house and you’d be safe.
Bursting through the main doors, you immediately fell to your knees and cradled your head in your hands as you hyperventilated.
‘Y/N!? What the Hell happened?’ Lucifer had heard the slam of the door so he came out to investigate. He hadn’t expected to find you having a panic attack in his entrance hall.
He was kneeling by your side in an instant, placing a comforting hand on your back. As he looked closer at you, he saw that your sleeve was ripped, with a bruise forming round your wrist. When you looked up at him with wide, teary eyes he also clocked some bruises on your jaw.
Lucifer’s eyes immediately darkened.
‘’m sorry I-I lost the groceries...’ You stuttered out with a shaky voice. Lucifer’s face immediately contorted.
‘Y/N I don’t give a damn about the groceries! I want to know who did this to you.’ Lucifer was aware of how angry he sounded, but he was honestly offended that you thought he cared more about some groceries than you.
You cowered slightly at his raised voice and Lucifer felt bad. He took a deep breath to calm down before speaking again, much more softly this time.
‘Please Y/N, I need to know who did this.’
You looked up to him and you could see the genuine concern in his eyes. You tried your best to get your sobs under control so you could speak.
‘There was a-a group of three rough looking guys not far from here...’ Lucifer groaned internally. He knew exactly who you were talking about.
They were a group that had been causing trouble round the are for a while now, but he never had a good enough reason to get rid of them... Until now.
Lucifer stood and extended a hand to you with a smile. You hesitantly took his hand and he helped you to your feet.
‘Go get cleaned up ok? I gotta go out for a while.’ He ushered you towards your room.
‘Ok...’ You trailed off sadly.
‘Great!’ Lucifer grinned widely at you as he opened a portal. He stepped through before leaning his head back out to address you.
‘And I don’t want to see you doing house work when I get back, kay?’ he tipped his hat before dashing back through. Then the portal closed.
‘Evening gentlemen.’ The three men from earlier swiftly jumped up from their card game, to see Lucifer leaning up against the wall, blocking the exit to the alley. They all immediately shrunk back when they saw it was him.
‘oh your majesty... What brings you to our hideout?’ Lucifer started to slowly walk into the alley, never tearing his eyes away from the men, making them even more on edge.
‘Uh-sir?’
‘So you think it’s fun to assault kid’s huh?’ Lucifer spoke in an eerily calm voice. The men looked at each other, now sweating profusely. They all immediately tried to deny the accusations, but Lucifer wasn’t having it.
‘Keep your filthy mouths shut!’ His demonic form began manifesting as his anger grew. ‘You dare lay your hands on someone I care about!?’
The men were no longer tough bullies, but now reduced to a quivering mass with their backs to the wall as Lucifer stalked forwards.
A smirk appeared on his face as he narrowed his eyes at the men.
‘What do you say I give a demonstration of how Hell got it’s reputation?’
Screams echoed from the alley. People knew better than to intervene.
Lucifer returned home not much later, making a bee line for your room straight away.
He was about to knock on your door, when he heard faint crying coming from the other side.
He looked down remorsefully. Maybe he shouldn’t have left you alone. He composed himself and knocked. The sobs went quiet and he heard a meek, ‘come in.’
As he entered, he noticed you’d changed from your maid outfit and now wore your pyjamas and dressing gown.
‘Hey Y/N, you feeling any better?’ He came to sit next to you with a comforting smile.
‘I guess so...’ You replied, though the defeated look was still evident on your face.
‘Well golly! I have something to turn that frown upside down!’ You were startled by his sudden energetic proclamation. ‘Ta-da!’ He pulled a small duck from his coat pocket and proudly presented it to you.
You looked over the duck, which had obviously been made to resemble you by giving it some of your features.
As you looked at the little yellow duck, something inside of you snapped. Without warning, you batted the duck from his hand and jumped up in a fury, scowl painted across your face.
‘Why are you acting like you care about me!?’ Lucifer jumped up as if you’d burnt him, his hands out in front of him as a peaceful gesture. He was stunned at your sudden outburst.
‘Y/N, I don’t thi-‘
‘Don’t try and lie to me! Nobody’s ever cared about me!’ You cut him off. You were getting more irate as you broke down into hysterics again.
Lucifer didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t find the words to speak.
When he didn’t answer, it only made you more angry.
‘What do you want from me!?’ You screamed at him, tears flowing down your face. ‘Is it sex? Is that what you want from me, just like everyone else!?’
Lucifer audible gasped at your outburst and took a step back to show he meant no harm.
‘Whoa kid! I don’t want anything from you! Especially not...’ Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to say it. Everything began to fall into place for him now. So that’s what you had to do back on Earth.
He was angry that you accused him of being that disgusting, but not at you. He could never hate you. He was angry that there were people on Earth that thought it was ok to take advantage of a child like that.
You froze in place. The way he was keeping his distance, the way he was making himself look small so as to not intimidate you... Then there was his eyes. They were sad.
They bore into you, as if he were pleading with you to believe him. He wasn’t lying.
Your eyes stung with tears and your face heated up as you looked away, embarrassed by your outburst.
Lucifer wanted to comfort you, but he also didn’t want to spook you, so you needed to make the first move.
You mumbled something under your breath he couldn’t quite hear.
‘I uh, didn’t catch that...’ You squinted your eyes and let out a shaky breath, as if hyping yourself up to repeat what you had said.
You looked him dead in the eye, face hard as you repeated yourself.
‘I said I wish I were your daughter! My life would have been so much better.’
Lucifer was gobsmacked. He really hadn’t been expecting that. When he really thought about it he realised he shouldn’t be that surprised at all. He knew you had to have a rough life, and with how welcoming and caring he’d been to you, he should have know something like this would manifest.
The more Lucifer thought it over, the bigger his hear swelled. You thought so highly of him, that you wanted him to be your dad, or fatherly figure at least.
It seemed that Lucifer took a few moments too many to digest this information, as you turned away from him abruptly. He could see you shaking.
‘I’m sorry....’ You whispered.
Lucifer was snapped back to reality by your voice. You were clearly still upset, but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.
He made his way over to you and gingerly placed a hand on your shoulder, so as to not startle you, but you still flinched at the contact.
‘Y/N... You’ve nothing to be sorry for.’ Lucifer spoke so softly that it took you off guard. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was smiling.
‘It wasn’t till recently that I repaired my relationship with Charlie.’ You were rooted to the spot as you listened intently to what he was saying. ‘ I wasn’t there for a long time, and I truly regret how much time I missed with her.’ Your face was cast down as you hung onto every word.
You felt so stupid bringing this up. He already had a daughter that he loved, so you would just get in the way. Maybe this was his way of letting you down gently.
Lucifer moved to stand next to you, with his arm now across your shoulders. As you looked up to him, you were stunned to see him smiling. You almost passed out at his next words.
‘But maybe I can be there for you.’ More tears started to stream down your face, but this time they were tears of joy. For the first time in a long time, you felt truly happy.
Flinging your arms round his torso, you buried your head into his chest as you clung to him for dear life.
Lucifer happily returned your embrace and lay his head a top yours.
‘I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner.’ He soothed as he stroked the top of your head. You pulled back and looked up to him with a slight laugh.
‘You mean I should have died sooner?’ Lucifer cringed and pulled away, playfully throwing his hands up in the air.
‘Well of course it’s gonna sound morbid if you say it like that!’ You both laughed together and you wiped the tears from under your eyes.
Something caught Lucifer’s eye from across the room. It was the small duck he’d previously offered you.
You watched without a word as he retrieved the gift. He stood before you and offered it once again with a wide grin. This time you gratefully accepted.
Cupping your hands round the small toy, you held it up next to your face.
‘Great likeness.’ You joked and Lucifer snorted out in laughter.
‘I’m glad you like it! You know when you knocked it away, I thought you were highly offended with how I portrayed you, so good to know that’s not the case!’ He teased and gae you a thumbs up.
‘Thank you.’
‘Well.’ Lucifer spun round, making his way to the door before pausing to speak over his shoulder. ‘Thanks to todays surprising turn of events, I need to hire a new maid.’ He paused for a moment before turning back round to fully face you. ‘Can’t have my honorary daughter run ragged , now can I?’
Later that night after both of you had taken some much needed time to calm down, Lucifer had made you sit at the dining table, whilst he served you for a change. Once you were both settled, he took the opportunity to press you a little.
‘So did you ever reach out to Charlie like I said a while ago?’ You chuckled nervously and rubbed at the back of your neck.
‘I didn’t really think it would be appropriate.’
‘Ah come one now, I was the one who bought it up! Plus I think it would be good for you.’
‘How so?’ You titled your had curiously and Lucifer sank back into his chair with a breathy laugh.
‘Charlie showers literally everyone she meets with love, and she’ll introduce you to loads of new friends.’
‘But-‘ You stopped yourself, really thinking weather or not you should even ask. ‘Will she even want to meet me?’ Lucifer’s face softened into a warm smile. He knew exactly what you were thinking. You were scared that Charlie would want nothing to do with you, considering the way you saw him now.
He sat up and reached over, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.
‘I grantee it.’
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#x reader#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader#imagine#one shot#reaction#drabble#headcannon#fluff#angst#hurt/comfort#charlie#alastor#husk#angel#adam#teen!reader#platonic
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Hate That I Love You
adam x insecure!tsundere(ithink) GNreader
Summary: You’ve been Lutes friend for a long while, and occasionally you ran into Adam; after finding out about the extermination thanks to him, you become a three party group. Except you can’t accept liking Adam, him being obnoxious and egotistical, you pretend you hate him. That blows up in your face.
Warnings: Suggestive, swearing, angst ish, hurt/comfort i think, insecurities around strength (mental and/or physical), implied but never confirmed virgin reader, readers looks get insulted nothing intense nor specific, descriptive panic attack/fainting, reader throws an object at adam’s head, NO YN, GN, No alluding to or mention of bodytype/hairtype/skin colour. oh possibly OOC adam idk, not proofread so sorry luvs, I think that’s it if not let me know! enjoy :3
Word count: 2K
Your index finger sat atop the straw sitting in your drink, moving it around the glass as you mindlessly listened as Adam ranted to you and Lute, mostly Lute, about Charlie Morningstar. You weren’t an exorcist- no, you actually didn’t know about the exterminations at all…up until recently. Thanks to one of Adam’s childish outbursts, you had a long night with Lute explaining the whole situation to you. Now you were sworn to secrecy, and conversations of the madness that the extermination were and everything they came with, AKA Charlie.
Adam wasn’t ever your buddy, he was just someone who shamelessly attached himself to Lute's hip; but you put up with it because of your good friendship with Lute. Now, he’s somehow weaselled his way into believing you were part of this weird “team” purely based off of association.
“I mean who does this long horned, pointy teeth, pussy mucher think she is?!” Adam screamed slamming his hands against the table, you rolled your eyes at him and his stupid antics. “You’re one to talk,” You replied, his eyes snapping toward you. “You’ve got both horns and teeth. Why don’t you take that funky band mask off anyways?”
Scoffing he rolled his neck side to side. “Because this is my job, my persona, how’re people gonna recognize me without it!? Duh, dumb bitch.” Muttering the insult quickly, he leaned his cheek on his palm and went back to sucking his drink.
“With all due respect sir, this is really bad news, we can’t let Charlie persuade Sera.” Lute piped up, her mask discarded showing the genuine emotion on her face. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if he was a friend, someone she was in love with, an annoying brother-like figure, or just her lazy ass boss. Maybe all of the above.
Which is probably one of the reasons you kept your tiny little crush on Adam to yourself. He was cruel to you anyways, always comparing you to someone faster, funnier, stronger, hotter at least that’s what you told yourself. Instead you chose to be more of a bitch back, acting as disgusted and disinterested as you could, especially when Lute was around as she could sniff out a lie like some psychic canine.
“Yeah, duh Lute i fucking know that. You think I've been jerking off this whole time! No, eyes, ears focused, I haven't cum in days.” He whined, throwing his head back. Lute only scoffed glancing over at you slumped back in your seat barely sipping your drink, eyes casted downward. “You don’t have to be here for this kind of talk,” Lute started saying, her hand inching across the table to yours, but she was stopped by Adam once more leaning forward, gloved palms slapping against the table.
“The fuck are you saying Lute!? We get another fucker in this circle and you wanna cast her out. Un-fucking-believeable. It’s like you want Charlie to win.” Throwing a napkin at Adam, Lute slid her hand away from you. “They’re not even an exorcist Adam, you’re the fuck head who got them in on exterminations!”
“No i didn’t, they walked in on a private conversation.” Eyebrows knitted together you lurched forward, anger fueling you. “Oh piss off Adam, how many times are we gonna go over this stupid situation! I’m not your fucking friend, i’m not ‘in’ on it, i’m here for Lute and you won’t fucking leave!”
Adam had a bored expression on his face while you ranted, unfazed by anything you’d said. Lute however bit her lip clasping her hands together. In a fight between her boss slash friend, and her friend, she didn’t know what to do. “You always have your nose up in Lute's business, it’s so annoying. Lute’s my man, okay she works for me! Guess who comes first in this business chica? Not you.” Adam mocked sticking his tongue out at you.
Standing you picked up your cup whipping it at Adam’s head, he dodge it easily, but your emotionally fueled violence made you quickly regretful as both Adam’s and Lutes eyes looked at you questioningly. You’d never really lost your shit before, and this wasn’t the worst Adam has said, so they were a little confused at your outburst, yourself included.
“Listen, Adam, I’m-“ Before you could finish Adam keeled over, laughing maniacally as you watched. After a few short laughter filled moments, Adam straightened, elbows on the table, hands hammocking his chin as he smiled up at you.
“Got some bite in you for sure huh babe, ha! I’m not surprised, honestly when i saw you i was like ‘this bitch has a face made for hell’, you probably got up here cause you were unfuckable so, like, virgin. Oh! Oh! That makes so much fucking sense dude! Ha! Bummer, I could smell the weak loser on ya, didn’t I tell ya danger tits?” Adam questioned head turned toward Lute after his animated, and very condescending speech.
Lute only looked down, not responding. Meanwhile you were horrified, you’d always felt a little less than Lute, after all she carried out holy duties, ones that you hadn’t fully known up until recently, so hearing Adam say the same things you thought of yourself, shattered you. Your face felt hot as tears gathered on the waterline of your eyes. You didn’t belong here, you said it for the longest time everyone here was mindless optimist zombies, Lute was your only lifeline, and for a few months you suppose-Adam.
You never hated him, but it’s clear he’s only fond of Lute. You’re the intruder, you’re the odd one. Clenching your fists you didn’t even bother with a come back, you slid out from your table booking it to the door. Tears unwillingly slid down your cheeks, your chest heaving as your throat closed silencing whatever weep dared to exit your throat.
You could hear Lute calling after you but you genuinely didn’t want to be followed by her, you were embarrassed; the last thing you wanted was the strong exorcist coming to witness you crumble. Throwing the door to the building open your wings sprung out on reflex, and after a few quick steps you took off. You couldn’t quite see, or breathe for that matter. Your mind lagged behind you, replaying the moments in your head that matched up to Adam’s insults.
You blinked rapidly as you attempted to focus on the clouds beneath you and breeze around you, but you couldn’t. You choked once more, your stomach convulsing inward causing you to gasp, a sob violently escaping you as you rocketed toward whatever surface you could find. Suddenly you hit something solid, stunning your flight and causing you to spin down, plummeting. As you fell, the breeze stabbed you as you cut into it, your wings sagging and loosely flailing above you, it felt so calm and freeing you didn’t feel the will to stop.
By the grace of god, however, you were caught and roughly smacked against the chest of someone, their arms clutching you tightly. You barely heard a ‘gotcha’ before your vision tunnelled, stomach flipped and you lost consciousness.
——
Waking slowly, your eyes stung the moment they opened, nearly watering at the blinding white that invaded them. Willing yourself to rise, you lazily scanned the room you laid in. A living room, coloured with yellows, creams and whites, it was, in all honesty, way too much. A large portrait of a man with a woman, meticulously scrapped out, hung above the fireplace. You’d never seen this man ever before, and the woman was too scratched out to get any idea on who it was. Suppose these people never existed as it was a painting, but there was something about the man that captivated you so deeply.
“Look who finally rose, sleeping bitchy.” You immediately felt sick, turning your head unsurprised to see Adam standing there smugly. You frowned deeply, it felt nearly impossible to twist your mouth in such a way, but there was no hiding your distaste in seeing the angel. “Why am I here, Adam.” You say scaldingly, eyes closed attempting to shield yourself from whatever foul look took over his face. “Well after your little shit show, a little over dramatic by the way, Lute left to find you, and I went for a fly. Then suddenly minding my own business I see you tryna play asteroid! Then when I caught you, your dumbass went out.”
Sighing loudly you pulled your hand down your face. “Please, admit Lute put you up to it.” Slamming a glass of water down on the table along with a platter of fruit, including oranges, pomegranates and mangos, Adam grunted moving his hand to sit on his hips. “The fuck she did, she’s not getting the praise for this one.” You looked up at him and then down at the fruit and drink on the side table just to your right, you nodded at it. “What’s this?”
You barely whispered out. Blowing air out threw his lips effectively raspberryingring the air, he shrugged. “Stuff for you, duh, you’re like sick or something right?” You nearly smiled at that, you’d never had Adam have that reaction. Quite the array of fruit as well, carefully you picked up a few pieces of orange, as well as mango that had a toothpick sticking up from them you munched down. You hummed, watching like a hawk as Adam walked across from you and sat on the other couch.
“How long was i out?” You questioned after swallowing, gulping down some water feeling the soothing sensation on your raw throat. “Maybe thirty minutes, not long. I texted Lute, I told her you were with me, safe.” That made you pause, you gazed up at him from the bowl of pomegranates you started digging into. “What? Why didn’t she come?” Adam huffed, throwing his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Because I told her not to.” Your mouth fell open eyes wide.
“Why thee holy fuck, would you tell her not to come?” Sitting up straighter you swung your legs over the side, sitting properly instead of lounging. Adam wouldn’t meet your gaze drifting off to the left and right. “Fucking… fuck!” He exclaimed almost in what sounded like exhaustion. Watching him closely, you waited as he seemed to have an inner debate with himself. Then swiftly he gripped his face and ripped off his mask.
The face you were met with was like a punch in the gut, yeah he could be compared to men you’ve seen in your lifetime probably at a gas station or cheap bar, but it was Adam. The man you’ve been trying so hard to hate, getting into cussing battles, throwing insults at each other that rolled off the back, occasionally praising each other's insults, forcing yourself to loathe him when you both kinda knew it wasn’t and now it was real. You got to look in his gold eyes, the dark thick lashes accentuating the uniqueness of his eye colour, the chin hair that crawled just under his chin -which you never expected him to have-, his tousled brown hair, thick eyebrows one eyebrow pierced - also a shock to you-.
He looked like the asshole he was, and it made you fucking sick. Trying so hard to hate him had come to this? Him unmasking himself after saving you? Cruel, you wanted to hate him, get over him not know that all he said about him being the hottest, the dickmaster, pussypounder-whatever, was probably true, that he’s hot. You were embarrassed to feel the nasty hum of jealousy claw at you when you could see the woman in the painting in your peripheral, that was obviously him, with some woman. He was wanted, and taken before.
Flicking his tongue over his lips you caught a glimpse of a tongue piercing because of course the pretty boy would get whatever he wanted without worrying about rules. He shuffled nervously biting his lip as you eyed him shamelessly, which to him was judgemental, his nerves suddenly making him feel sweaty. “Why?” You ask breathily, you were too enchanted to care how he perceived that however. His eyes properly met yours, your legs crossed subconsciously at the zap you felt just by a look.
“Youre fucking dumb you know that? You think I hang with Lute when you’re around because Lute’s there?!” Adam stood after the exclamation, his eyes shooting around the room, hands flying to his hair. “I can’t fucking do this a third time! Fuck!” Tossing a vase across the room you watched unfazed by the sudden explosion, after all this was your thing too.
“I only go round Lute like that because you’re there dumbass, i tried easing up on you; just like Lute said! But you, oh noooo little bitch, just had to be so fucking bratty.” Standing over you sneering, you made no attempts to move, not genuinely scared of his anger but instead, perhaps, a little aroused. You in a way understood where his frustrations came from anyway, you in a sense felt the same way. Might be why you lost it earlier, the yearning had gotten too real, and he seemed so focused on Charlie.
“I am so disgustingly attracted to you, not even in a sex way! And I know how to deal with that a lot better.” Swinging his hand out sassily, he smirked to himself. Plopping next to you he rested his cheek on his hand, elbows rested on his legs. Plucking an orange from the table you watched him eat it, juice moistening his lips. “You think i’d peel fruit, save, house and give water to some broad I genuinely hated? No, stupid.”
Laughing dryly, you looked up away from Adam’s intense gaze. You smiled, eyes falling from the ceiling to your lap. “God i fucking hate you,” Adam’s face looked horrified, opening his mouth to speak, you stopped him grabbing his cheeks and pulling into a searing hot kiss. Your lips crashed against each others’ lazily but passionately, opened mouthed and slightly sloppy. It was slow however, a kiss that wasn’t just a kiss, neither of you wanted to haste past such a moment, such emotion. Adam’s arms wrapped around your hips nudging you forward, understanding the message you moved in closer, your body’s pressing against each other as much as you could from the seated position on the couch.
You dug your fingers into his hair, brainlessly playing with different strands as your tongues slid along one another’s without care, tasting the orange he just ate presently on his lips and to tongue. It felt heavenly being up against him, Adam smelt so good, he was so warm and you could feel how badly he wanted this. His body jittered, his hands gripping you like you’d disappear if he loosened. Pulling away and looking at Adam, he made no effort to move eyes still closed like trying to etched this memory in his mind. You hummed lovingly, brushing hair away from his forehead. “You’re a dumb bitch.” He whispered raspily, opening his eyes, although not by much as they lidded with lust.
You smirked at him brushing your thumb against his bottom lip. “I know. You too.”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel adam#adam hazbin hotel#adam x reader#adam hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel adam x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel oneshots#hazbin hotel fluff
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Bebita’s First Red
Word Count: 1.9k
This is most a Mapi x Teen Reader
Mapi and you had a complicated relationship. You were pretty much a demon in her eyes while you acted innocent with everyone else.
Mapi couldn't even rant about you to Ingrid because even Ingrid wouldn't believe her. Alexia saw you as a precious little toddler, even though you were 16 with a huge attitude.
At first, Mapi thought you were innocent; she was even careful with what she said around you. It wasn't until national team duties. Ingrid went with Norway, and Alexia went with Spain. Mapi volunteered to take care of you while Alexia was gone. She regretted it.
A day before Alexia was supposed to come back, you thought it would be fun to run away for the day. When Mapi did her daily check-in on you and couldn't find you, she nearly had a heart attack. She was too scared to call Patri or Pina, knowing they would probably let it slip to Alexia.
The next day, when she had to pick Alexia and Ingrid up from the airport, she was more furious than worried. Ingrid noticed how tense she was as Mapi drove back to the house, ignoring any questions Alexia asked about you.
By the time they got home, you had snuck back in. Mapi tried telling Alexia about how you've been gone for a day. That sent Alexia into a world of panic. She rushed inside the place, thinking it was one of Mapi's dumb pranks. There she found you, sitting on the couch, watching SpongeBob.
Alexia was furious with Mapi for lying about you running away. She glared at her as she dragged you out of the house, calling an Uber instead of asking Mapi to drive you guys back home. Alexia never played around when it came to you.
Ever since that day, Mapi has tried her hardest to get Alexia to open her eyes about you. Alexia saw you as a tiny angel who could do no wrong, but you were the complete opposite. Mapi didn't even understand how you were able to put up with that act for so long.
————
Mapi watched as you sat anxiously on the field during training. "Come on, kid, get to running." "Jonatan said I could sit out since I just threw up." Mapi was sure you were lying, but she just let it go.
As practice went on, Mapi kept a close eye on you. She thought you were up to something but refused to get involved since the blame would go on her and not you.
While Mapi thought about this, you were fearing for your life. You were so close to faking a sickness so you didn't have to go to the next game. You thought about going to Alexia for your situation, but she wasn't playing, so there was really no way she would be able to protect you.
You sighed as you looked at Mapi. You didn't know if she would defend you, but she was probably the most intimidating person that would be on the field. Mapi sometimes even intimidates you, and she knew it.
"Mapi, I'm scared," you ran up to her out of breath. "Why?" She questioned, not bothering to look at you from where she was seated. "One of the girls on the team were playing; she wants to kill me, like break my legs and laugh while I cry in pain." She looked up at you, confused.
"What?"
"So the defender, I forgot her name, but she texted me last night, you know, doing the usual crap talk, and I started talking back, but when she said she was going to wreck me, I replied, 'I already wrecked your mama in bed, and I'm going to wreck you next on the field'. She didn't like that and got really mad." Mapi sighed, trying not to laugh at your scared expression.
"That's called consequences, kid. You have to watch who you're talking to," you scoffed. "I know, Maria; I honestly don't know what possessed me to say that, but I didn't mean it. She's going to kill me; have you seen her?! She's built like Shaquille O'Neal."
Mapi rolled her eyes at how overdramatic you were being. "She's shorter than me." Mapi started to look the girl up to see if she was really as big as you were trying to put off. "She's buffer than you; you think Lucy can beat her up?" Mapi scoffed, "I can beat her." You giggled at that.
"Sure, you can; one tiny push, you'll be running behind Ingrid" "I hope she punches you" "Hey!"
————
You held tight onto Ingrid's jacket in the tunnel; you could feel the girl staring you down. Mapi was behind you, trying to hold in her laugh. She stopped when you genuinely looked at her with fear in your eyes. She rubbed your back to comfort you. You were just a dumb kid being threatened by a middle-aged woman who was way bigger than you. 'I'd be scared too,' Mapi thought to herself.
She turned to the girl and gave her a glare, so she would stop paying attention to you and only focus on her.
She also made sure to squeeze the players hand very hard to give her a little warning as everyone shook hands. The girl skipped you during the handshakes, not even looking at you; you were grateful for that, and you thought she would have broken your hand right there.
————
That warning was not taken to heart.
Mapi's fist clinched when she saw the girl push you as you tried moving forward with the ball, making you take a hard tumble. She was over it now; only she was allowed to push you around like that, and even then, Alexia would yell at her for it, but unfortunately, Alexia wasn't there.
"Ay! Stop playing dirty," Mapi said, pushing the girl away from where she stood over your body. Mapi quickly helped you up and watched as the player walked away, not before getting a yellow.
"Stand up for yourself," she told you. "Mapi, if I say something, she'll break my leg." She just gave you a look. "I'm serious, if you keep letting her punk you around like that, then I'm going to punk you around for a month, and I don't care what Alexia says," you huffed as you got the ball ready for a free kick.
"Alexia says to answer by playing good," Mapi scoffed. "Don't listen to Alexia for once; I don't care if you get a red; I'll take the blame, but stop letting that girl walk all over you. You always let people walk all over you, then you hide behind Alexia for help. She won't always be on the field to help you." You nodded as you walked away to let Mapi take the free kick.
————
That advice would be the reason you got your first ever red card. You were already on a yellow for pushing the girl the same way she pushed you. Near the 70th minute, you were elbowed right in the face when trying to go for a header. Of course, Shaquille O'Neal was the one who did it.
You groaned, glaring at the girl, when she touched your back and tried to act like she elbowed you on accident. You smacked her hands away.
Before she could actually touch you again, you shoved her hard. To your surprise, you pushed her hard enough that it actually sent her to the ground.
The referee quickly blew her whistle frantically, running to you. This iconic moment was your first red card. You were quite proud of it, honestly.
"Mierda!" Mapi yelled as she quickly ran before the girl could get back up and body-slam you. She quickly pushed you behind her, and you were taken away by Lucy.
That didn't end there, though. When the girl got up, she tried to shove the referee away to get to you, but Mapi stepped in front of her. That just got her a shove in the face. She sold it, being more dramatic, so the girl would get her second yellow as well.
"You grew some balls, kid," Lucy commented. "She started it," you defended yourself, and you looked to where Alexia was sitting in the stands. The red card was shown to you. Lucy tried to hold in her laugh as she led you off the field. It wasn't a huge deal considering you guys were winning 5-0 with 20 minutes left, but now you felt guilty.
Alexia was standing up, clearly trying to hold herself back from yelling at you from the stands. Jana was recording, and Fridolina was trying to get Alexia to sit back down by pulling on her sleeve.
"Sorry, Jonatan," you mumbled to the man as you walked past him. He simply patted your shoulder. "We'll talk about this later."
————
You sat on the bench with your head in your hands, scolding yourself mentally for losing control like that. Yeah, you were sticking up for yourself, but it could have cost the team.
"Don't you dare sulk; be proud that you stood up for yourself." Mapi tried hyping you up as she entered the locker room, excited.
"I could have cost us the game." Mapi looked at you, confused. "We were winning 5-0 with 20 minutes left; I'm pretty sure we would have been fine."
"Alexia is going to kill me." Just when you said that, Alexia rushed in, you pulled Mapi in front of you. "She looks scary," you whispered.
"What was that?!" Alexia yelled, everyone who was in the locker room froze, and the ones who were entering immediately stopped talking.
"Calmate Alexia, would you rather see her get bullied around?" Alexia stayed silent at that question.
Pina came in singing, "Bebita got her first red." She cried dramatically. "How does it feel?" Patri pretended to hold a mic.
"It feels like I lost my virginity." Alexia smacked the back of your head while Mapi gave you a secret high five. "That feeling is amazing," Patri elbowed you. "Stop it!" Alexia scolded.
Salma came in holding a red card. "I convinced the referee to give it to me. Frame it, kid." You took it from her and admired the fact your number was on it.
"I'm proud of you, Bebita; you stood up for yourself." Mapi pulled you into a hug. "She's still grounded, Mapi." Mapi glared at Alexia.
"Leave Bebita alone; she was just defending herself," you giggled to yourself. Technically, you had started the whole thing with the mom comment, but it seemed like Mapi was ignoring that now.
"Fine, but you're running extra laps, Mapi." "But she didn't do anything." You didn't like how Alexia was targeting Mapi now. "I know she was the one to tell you to do that."
"She told me to stand up for myself since I was being bullied by that Shaquille O'Neil girl," Alexia groaned in frustration.
"Fine, you both are doing extra laps," you giggled to yourself. Knowing you would probably take her mind off of it when you got home by doing extra chores.
————
That card sat proudly in a frame. Alexia let you have your moment and even took a bunch of pictures for you as you held it proudly. She posted the pictures to her Instagram like a proud mother posting their child after they got an award.
#woso x reader#woso#barcelona femeni#woso fanfics#barcelona femeni x reader#mapi leon#mapi leon x reader
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questions • matt sturniolo
pairing: matt/reader
summary: when matt suddenly pulls away from the reader, they are left to try to figure out what went wrong. angst then fluff.
TW: depiction/description of a panic attack. if this is triggering content for you and you skip this fic I completely understand, please take care of yourself.
“I’m just busy right now, we can just move our date to some other night,”
“It’s not that deep, it’s just a party for friends, you misunderstood. I’ll see you tonight maybe. Don’t wait up,”
“Sorry, I just don’t feel like cuddling much anymore,”
“Obviously I still love you, if I didn’t I’d ask you to move out,”
Very callous responses became the usual. Over the past two weeks, Matt had changed a bit. He was less affectionate, less caring. He was blunt and direct and some times came off uncaring. It really hurt, if I’m being honest. I had tried talking to him, seeing if it was something I had done or if he was going through something and each time I was quickly and angrily brushed off. I don’t like arguments so I always just dropped the topic.
He’d also withdrew physically from me. There was no cuddling at night anymore. No kisses. No hand holding. No random hugs from behind. It the past week I think he’d kissed my forehead a couple times, if that. It was the polar opposite of what was our norm, and I don’t understand it at all. A couple times I tried to initiate a hug and he’d stiffen up and pull back, and I’d be left with my arms outstretched and an embarrassed flush painting my cheeks.
Tonight, I tried to give him a kiss when I decided to go to bed before him. I leaned in and he quickly turned his head so I kissed his cheek instead. If he saw the tears in my eyes after he did that, he didn’t say anything. My cheeks burned with embarrassment under the confused gazes of his brothers as I walked quietly and quickly to our room, trying my best not to completely break down. I was losing him, I’m sure of it now.
I found myself sitting on the edge of what for now is still our shared bed in our bedroom when I hear a knock on the bedroom door.
“Come in”, I croak out, my throat thick with emotion before I clear it.
The door opens and I see Nick peak his head in.
“Hey, you okay?” He asks softly, a frown on his face. That one question makes the walls I had tried to build up break. I shake my head as sobs begin to pour out of me. It’s ugly tears, loud heart wrenching cries coming out of my mouth even as I try to stop them with my hand over my mouth. Nick quickly comes in, leaving the door open as he sits by me on the best, pulling me into his chest. The comfort he gives me just makes me cry more, because I so desperately wish he was Matt right now.
“I’m so sorry, I know that was so mean,” he says, hand rubbing soothing circles on my back as I cry.
“Oh, ma, please don’t cry over him,” I hear Chris’s voice come from the doorway, and footsteps approach Nick and I. The bed dips next to me as he sits on my other side, his hand rubbing my shoulder.
“I just don’t understand what I did,” I pitifully cry out to them both.
“You didn’t do anything,” they both reply at the same time.
I sniffle as I pull myself back from Nicks embrace, standing in front of both of them as they remain seated on the bed.
“He’s missed our date nights. He’s refused to bring me to parties that I’ve been invited to come along to. He didn’t even care when I asked him if he still loved me last week. He just kind of laughed and said if he didn’t he’d have me leave. Now tonight I can’t even kiss him. I don’t understand.” I cry out, my hands flailing around as I talk and pace.
“Has he said anything to you guys? Did he tell you what I did? If I knew I’d fix it. I can fix it. Whatever I did for him to be like this to me, I’ll fix it,” I stutter out, my breathing getting faster and more labored. My hands tremble as I feel my chest tightening with anxiety and hurt. I try to breathe but it’s like I can’t catch my breath no matter what.
“Hey, hey, just try to breathe,” Nick says calmly, “you’re having a panic attack, but it’s all going to be okay, just breathe with me” he says, motioning for me to follow and mimic his own deep and slow breathing. I try to suck air into my lungs as he does, but gasp and cough as I fail to match him. I get scared as my vision starts to get spotty. Nick and Chris both stand with me now. Chris gently and slowly grasps my hand, bringing it to his chest.
“Feel that?” He asks softly. I focus on my hand and can feel his steady pulse and slow breathing. I nod, still unable to speak.
“Okay, just focus on Chris and his heart and his breathing. Feel it and try to match it,” Nick encourages.
I let my eyes drift closed as I focus on Chris. Slowly, my breathing evens out. I let out a deep breath as I open my eyes back up, removing my hand from Chris’s chest. Five or so minutes had passed. I feel exhausted, it has been so long since I last had a panic attack and I had forgotten how much it tires you out.
I look up slowly to see both Nick and Chris looking at me with concerned expressions.
“I’m sorry, I’m okay now, just really tired,” I whisper, voice hoarse from struggling to breathe.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Chris says apologetically.
“And for the record, in response to your question, Matt hasn’t said anything to us. We’re just as confused by him. You didnt do anything, I’m sure. You know how he is, he gets in his own head and isn’t so good at talking to people about what’s bugging him,” Nick explains, trying to make me feel better.
“He used to talk to me about what’s bothering him. Now he barely talks to me at all,” I whisper. Both boys share sad looks, which just makes me feel more dejected.
“I’m going to bed, when do you think Matt will come?” I ask them quietly, turning back to the bed and moving the covers, getting ready to climb in. Both brothers once again share a look, concerning me.
“What?” I ask.
“He um, he left after you came in here. Something about needing some space. Said to not wait up.” Chris says, looking down and not meeting my eyes.
“Oh,” I whisper, voice cracking as I nod, biting my lip.
I go ahead and climb into bed, settling under the covers as the two brothers watch with dismal looks on their faces.
“I’m fine now, guys. I’m sorry. I just need some sleep now, I’ll see you both in the morning.” I promise them both, yawning towards the end of my sentence. The both nod and give me a small smile, telling me goodnight and leaving the room. As they shut the bedroom door behind them, I snuggle down into my pillows on my side of the bed, letting sleep pull me under.
My eyes slowly blink themselves open as I wake in the night. I pick up my phone to see I’ve only been asleep for two hours. My mouth is dry and my throat feels scratchy so I throw the covers off of me as I get up, deciding to get a glass of water from the kitchen. I slowly rise from the bed, noticing sadly that Matt’s side remains undisturbed, showing that he’s never come to bed. I sigh as I walk out of our bedroom, heading down the hall to the kitchen, stopping when I hear raised voices coming from the living room. I stay hidden in the hall as I listen.
“You can’t keep doing whatever this is to her, man! You didn’t see how heartbroken and distressed she is,” I hear Chris say.
“I know, Chris! You’re not helping you’re just stressing me out even more!” Matt hollers at him.
“Matt. It was bad. The poor girl had a fucking panic attack in front of us, thinking she’s done something wrong and asking if we knew what it was so she could fix it. She doesn’t deserve this,” Nick tells him, surprising me with how calm he sounds when usually he’s the loudest one.
“She had a panic attack? While I was gone earlier?” I hear Matt question, voice suddenly quiet and sad.
“Yeah, it was bad, but we got her to calm down and she went to sleep after. We checked on her a couple times before you got back just because we’re worried about her. It doesn’t seem like she’s sleeping well though,” Chris explains.
“You need to just talk to her. Just tell her what you told us,” Nick encourages.
Tell me what? I feel my stomach fill with dread. But I want answers, so I decide to make my presence known. I walk from my hiding spot in the hall through the kitchen and to the living room. Matt’s back is to me, and as Chris and Nick see me their eyes widen before they turn to look at each other and then at Matt.
“Tell me what?” I say, voice quiet but scratchy sounding from sleep still.
I watch as Matt’s back stiffens at the sound of my voice, before he slowly turns to face me. Nick and Chris quickly excuse themselves and head upstairs, bidding us both good night.
“Maybe we should talk about this in the morning?” Matt suggests hesitantly. I quickly shake my head, crossing my arms as I stand in front of him.
“No Matt. I want to talk about this now. I have questions. Do you know how horrible this has been for me? Overnight everything changed. You pulled away from me. From our relationship. You stopped talking to me. You stopped telling me you loved me. You stopped hugging me or kissing me. Tonight you wouldn’t even let me give you a kiss before bed. You’re freezing me out and I don’t even know what I did. But whatever I did wrong I’d like the chance to fix it,” I say softly, voice practically pleading for him to just talk to me.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispers, finally meeting my eyes.
“Then what’s going on? Is there someone else?” I ask, voice breaking when I ask the question I dread asking the most.
“No! God no. I’d never.” He quickly swears, eyes wide and hurt due to my suggestion of him cheating.
“Okay, sorry. I just— I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on, Matt,” I explain, throwing my hands up in exasperation.
“Im scared,” Matt says, voice nervous as he picks at his nails looking down.
“So am I. Just tell me, are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?” I ask, voice cracking again.
“No! I’m not going anywhere, at least I don’t want to, I don’t know how you’re going to react to what I’m about to tell you. But this is hurting you too and I never wanted that,” he assures me, reaching out for me before stopping himself for some reason.
“Just tell me. If you’re not leaving me, if you didn’t cheat, if you still love me, then whatever it is we can work it out,” I say, walking up to him and closing the distance between us. The lights are dim, and it’s just him and I standing in the middle of the room. I reach out and grasp Matt’s hands in mine, stopping him from picking at his nails. I let out a subconscious sigh of relief when he doesn’t pull away, instead giving my hands a squeeze.
“Here it goes,” Matt says, letting out a nervous breath, “I pulled away because I got scared. A couple weeks ago I had this dream about us. It was so real. We got married. It was the happiest day of my life. We had kids, our own little family. They had my eyes but your smile and all three of them were just perfect. We had this house out in the woods with a huge play-set for our three little ones and we had a dog and a cat and my brothers lived just a couple minutes away and it was just everything I know I want. And it’s with you. And it made me realize, you’re it. You’re the one. You’re the only person I picture and want for all of that. And I’m freaking out because we’re so young, but I swear if we had it all tomorrow I’d be ready. But I don’t know how you feel. I know you love me, I’ve never doubted that, but I just. I’m ready to start that chapter. Slowly start it. But I’m afraid maybe you aren’t, and now I just sound like a crazy eager boyfriend who is going to scare you away because I’m too serious too quick,” he tells me, searching my eyes.
I feel a lovesick smile stretch across my face as I gaze up into his eyes.
“So, I’m hearing that there’s a ring in my future?” I joke, trying to break the tension that seems to be eating Matt alive.
“If you want it, yes, it’s yours. And anything else you want,” he whispers.
“I want all of that too Matt. I love you. I’m in this relationship wholeheartedly. I want a future with you. A marriage, a house, pets, kids, all of it. You don’t have to be afraid because I’m right here and I’m telling you I want all of that and I’m so glad and feel so lucky that you want all of that with me too,” I promise him, before leaning up and connecting our lips softly. I feel him smile against my lips as we kiss. One of his arms snakes its way around my waist as his other hand comes up to cup the back of my head gently.
We pull away slowly and reluctantly, wanting to talk more but also enjoying the closeness we’ve both been missing in our relationship over the past couple weeks. We both stay up late that night talking about his dream and our real future together.
When he kneels down in front of me with a ring and a certain question two months later, I smile knowing our love story is just beginning.
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Come back to me - L. HS
Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!
Warnings: mentions of smut, language, alcohol, verbal abuse, crying, heeseung is a very shitty husband.
WC: 2,274k
“My god, it’s my wife again,” heeseung sighed. He was just out trying to spend a “peaceful” night with his co workers, and here you are, blowing up his phone and spamming him about his whereabouts. “I have to go before she has a panic attack.”
“She has you so whipped,” his friend and coworker Jake says.
“We must all have the same wife,” Heeseung replies, making the rest of the guys laugh while he grabs his jacket and takes one last shot before leaving the bar.“See you guys tomorrow!” He waves to his table of friends before going home, and he dreads walking through the door and having to deal with your constant whining and complaining.
He takes a deep breath before entering his home, but nothing can prepare him for the nagging he faces as soon as he enters.
He didn’t even get to take his shoes off before you had already started motor mouthing him. “Oh my god,” he rubs his temples in frustration. He already had a headache from work, and now he has to listen to your high pitched whining.
“Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my calls? I was worried about you.” you walk over to him to greet him with a hug. You don’t mean to bombard him with questions, but you were worried sick. “Is that- is that alcohol? Have you been drinking?” You say after breaking the hug that he didn’t even bother returning.
“Yes baby, it’s alcohol,” he sighs and takes his coat and shoes off, loosening his tie while he looks at you, completely disinterested in what you have to say.
“Hee, were you drinking and dri-“
“Yes! Oh my fucking god!” he shouts, cutting you off. “I’m a grown fucking man. I can drink, I can drive, and I can definitely take care of myself. I don’t need you keeping fucking tabs on me 24/7. I’m not a child I’m your husband.” he brushes past you, heading straight for the fridge to get another beer cause the five he had at the bar weren’t quite enough to help him put up with you.
You stood there, completely shocked by what he said. You knew you could be a little over the top and overprotective of him, but you didn’t know that’s what he thought of you.
Making your way over to the kitchen, you parted your lips to apologize. “Please just don’t. I already have a headache, and I can’t do this with you right now.” You close your mouth and instead try to hug him as an apology, but he just pushes you away. “Can you get any more annoying?” He shakes his head, popping off the lid on his beer and drinking half the bottle.
To say you were hurt would be an understatement this had been going on for months, this strange behavior that your husband adopted seemingly out of nowhere. The first time you talked to him about it, he just told you he was stressed from work and had a few drinks. You thought that was the end of it, but more often than not, he’d come home late, reeking of alcohol and treating you like you had zero feelings. You weren’t trying to scold him or baby him. You were just worried about him, but obviously, he didn’t see it like that.
Things had been a little rocky in the marriage. Lately, he spent more time at work and less time at home. You two rarely talked anymore. More like he wouldn’t let you talk. Every time you tried to get him to open up, he just shut down, and now you were stressed out because now not only was your husband shutting you out, but he was treating you like absolute trash, and you couldn’t believe it the day you met him he wouldn’t have dared talked to you that way but the heeseung you married was apparently long gone and you can’t believe after five long years of a happy loving marriage it all just went to pot in the last eight months and you don’t even know where to begin to fix it cause now his rotten attitude was now rubbing off on you which is why you responded with. “I guess I wasn’t annoying in bed last night.”
He chuckles, taking another sip of his beer. “That’s right, cause your mouth was doing something useful instead of bitching”
You gasp from his foul language, and he has the nerve to laugh at your shocked face. “What is your problem? Why are you acting like such an asshole?” You say with tears welling in your eyes and a defeated tone.
“You’re my problem, and maybe I wouldn’t be “such an asshole,” he says with finger quotes. “if you weren’t such a needy bitch” he scoffs. “Like my god, give me a fucking break heeseung this heeseung that when do you ever just shut the fuck up?”
You looked at him for a solid minute, complete utter silence taking over the kitchen, and you know what, if that’s what he thought of you, then so be it. “F-fine, I won’t be your problem anymore.” you turn away from him, not before a few tears trickled down your cheek.
Once he noticed you crying, he kinda felt bad even though you were being so over dramatic. “Baby….” Heeseung sighed, walking after you and gripping your forearm.
“I’m not your baby, and don’t you dare fucking touch me!” You yanked your arm out of his grip and went to the bedroom, leaving him stunned in the hallway cause you never treated him like that before.
“Shit,” he mutters and plops down on the couch finishing a few more beers to give you some time to calm down cause he knew you were just overreacting and being emotional like you always are.
He quietly enters the bedroom a while later, stripping down to his underwear and slipping in the covers, attempting to put his arm around your waist, but you simply scooted away from him. Instead of him getting the hint, he scooted closer to you, trying to back hug you, but this time, you got out of bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare sheet to sleep on the couch. “Where are you going?” He whispers groggily. From all the alcohol he drank, you could literally smell him as soon as he entered the bed.
“The couch,” you respond, tone as cold as ice.
“Fine, be a cunt, then see if I fucking care” he turns around in the bed, throwing the blankets over his shoulder and pretending that he was alright with you ignoring his touch and sleeping on the couch.
You just shook your head back and forth and left without another thought, going to sleep on the couch cold, sad, hurt, and alone.
In the morning, heeseung felt like shit. When he woke up, his head was pounding, and his muscles were sore from all the hours he’d been working. “Morning bab-“ he stopped when he remembered the fight you guys had last night, and that just made his head throb even harder than it already was.
After getting ready for work, he came out of the bedroom expecting breakfast, but you were still asleep on the couch. It looks like you slept a little bit more soundly without him than he did without you. He was literally tossing and turning all night.
He quickly kissed your forehead before leaving for work.
By the time you woke up, it was five in the afternoon, and that was the perfect time. Heeseung wouldn’t be home till eleven, and you’d be done packing far earlier than that.
You’d be lying if you said getting a divorce hasn’t been on your mind, but you gave it a couple of months to see if things would get any better between the two of you. But sadly, it didn’t, and divorce sounded like the only option. heeseung wasn’t communicating with you, and the past few months were eating you alive. If you stayed much longer, you probably would have lost yourself even more than you already have.
You gave up on dressing nice. What was the point when your man wouldn’t even take you out of the house you barely cleaned cause you just didn’t have the energy to, showering happened every other day, and you always felt useless cause your husband was struggling and you couldn’t help him the only thing that seemed to make him feel better was having you at night but even in bed he wasn’t the same he was more demanding always concerned about his pleasure and not yours which was a turn off for you.
But luckily, that was all going to end. After tonight, it would finally be over. You were freeing yourself from eight long months of abuse.
Once you finished packing, you stood on his side of the bedroom, a single tear leaving your eye as you slipped off your beautiful wedding ring and placed it on top of the divorce papers that you had already signed.
You left sooner than later because the longer you stayed, the more it was going to hurt, and you’ve been hurting for far too long already.
Heeseung was at the bar again, drowning himself in beer after beer and shot after shot, trying to forget the argument he had with you, but nothing was working.
He kept checking his phone every other minute, keeping an eye out to see if you sent him a text cause if you did, he was gonna respond right away and head straight home, so you wouldn’t have to worry about him being stupid for the countless night in a row yet a text never came, and he figured you must be really really upset with him this time.
“Is that your wife?” Jake asked, noticing him checking his phone every few minutes.
“No, actually,” he dryly chuckled, his thumb hovering over the power button on his phone. He turned it on and unlocked it, sifting through all his messages, and still not a single one from you. And now he was starting to get worried because this wasn’t like you. He should have at least ten missed calls and twenty different texts by now cause it was past midnight, and that’s always when you really started to spam him.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be at it soon enough.” his friend Jay pours him another drink, one that he doesn’t bother touching cause he’s still too focused on his phone, waiting to hear from you. “Ugh,” Jake sighed, a ding going off on his phone. “If it’s not one, it’s the other, am I right? Jake laughs, responding to his wife, telling her he’d be home soon and not to worry cause he’s with friends.
“Yeah,” heeseung mumbled and fake laughed if he was being honest. He was a little envious of Jake cause at least his wife was texting him.
Heeseung repeated his previous actions, checking for a new message, but he still had zero notifications. “You know, I think I’m gonna head home for the night.”
“What? It’s still early, though,” Jay complains.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” he drops a fifty on the table, quickly grabs his jacket, and jogs to his car. Something somewhere deep inside him was telling him that there was something wrong, and if anything like a break in or something bad happened to you cause he was out at the bar, he swears he’d never forgive himself.
Speeding down the street, he tries calling you, but no answer, which makes him even more worried. “Fuck! Baby, please be okay.” he feels himself on the verge of tears as he runs multiple red lights to get home to you. Most people might think he’s overreacting, but you never missed a call from him ever, not in your whole five years of marriage.
His heart drops when he finally arrives and sees your car no longer in the driveway. “Baby,” he mutters and unfastens his belt. Jogging up the porch, he quickly inserted his house key, and when he comprehended what he saw when he entered, it shattered his heart. It was almost as bad as a break in your stuff nowhere to be found, your shoes gone, all your little ornaments and decorations completely wiped out. “What’s this?” He says after entering the bedroom and, his heart felt like it stopped when he saw your wedding ring on his nightstand, accompanied by divorce papers. “No,” he shakes his head in denial, slowly backing away from the nightstand until his back hits the wall. “No,” he whimpers, sliding down the length of the bedroom wall. “Baby, no,” he whispers to himself, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. He knew he could be an asshole sometimes, but he never thought you would ever divorce him. “I’m so sorry,” he cries, running his thumb over the diamond on your ring. And right now, he’d rewind time just to hear your back to back questions when he came through the door. He’d never touch alcohol ever again if it meant he got to feel your welcoming hugs, and if he had just one more chance, he’d treat you the way you deserve.
He sniffs, wiping his tears and reaching for his phone, dialing your number only for it to go straight to voicemail.
He drops the phone at his side, staring off into space as tears roll down his cheeks. “Baby, I’m sorry. Please come back to me.”
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Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️
#enhypen heeseung#enhypen#heeseung#lee heeseung#enha heeseung#engene#heeseung smut#enhypen lee heeseung smut#lee heeseung smut#heeseung enhypen#enhypen smut#enhypen heeseung smut#enhypen fanfiction#lee heeseung x y/n#heeseung fic
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ex!b.katsuki x reader ; m.izuku x reader — bakugou cheats on his gf, with midoriya's girlfriend.
☆– warnings; ANGST. mention and description of panic attacks, swear words, cheating (bakugou to reader; uraraka to midoriya), description of a fight. But it ends in fluff~ c;
☆–a.n; honestly, i don't know if i'm going to add another chapter... i still have a bit more of ideas for this, but i don't know ._.
in the meantime, i hope you liked this new part! <3
also, i hope ya'll have a wonderful beggining of 2024!!! may this new year bring lots of good thing for everyone, lots of love and adventures, new amazing things and wonderful people to your lives!
love ya'll so much, wish you all ALL the good things life can bring; no more tears, except happy ones. <3
A few weeks go by, and Midoriya and you keep in touch, texting almost everyday. Talking about random stuff, important stuff, whatever the mood is. But it's mostly cute, random stuff, getting to know each other kind of feeling. It's funny how you both have been around each other for so long and did not actually know one another.
The texting was cute. Like a picture he sends one afternoon, when his shift is calm and almost finished, when the sun is setting, taken from up high in a building. A beautiful sunset picture that you use as a lock screen wallpaper on your phone. Or that one selfie he sent when he shared patrols with Hero Shoto; you remember thinking how cute he looked posing next to the hot and cold Hero, with two fingers of one of his hands pulled up on a peace sign. Or a picture of a little puppy Hero Deku found on a rainy morning shift. He took it to the closest vet so they could help the little animal, and you find that so fucking heroic it makes your heart jump from the cuteness.
"I wonder… who has you smiling like that? Oh , I know… Mister Greeny," Mineta mocks, his eyebrows shaking up and down suggestively.
"Shut up," you bark and hit him on the upper arm strongly. He simply laughs.
Three months pass faster than you actually realize. You're better, you feel better. You haven't had a single panic attack since Midoriya Izuku entered your life. Which is good… it means good.
He is good.
Since that first Friday you grabbed coffee together, you both decided to make it your day. Each and every Friday morning, Izuku and you would go to grab coffee at that same shop you went to the first time; then he would walk you home as the gentleman he is.
It's Friday and you're waiting for him, it's a bit late already, but you know he is coming. He had a night patrol but he insisted to not break the new tradition - his words. You found it cute, so you didn't protest.
But now you're worried, because it's almost 30 minutes since you have been waiting and he hasn't come yet. Then it becomes 40, 45, 50 minutes. You feel your neck itchy, but you try to ignore it, looking at your phone. Waiting for a notification, waiting for Mid‐ Izuku to contact you. But nothing.
It's already been 1.10 hours long and no sign of him. You sigh and decide to go home, it's been more than an hour already. Probably he had something coming up at the last minute, or he simply forgot. He probably had a rough night and he didn't have time to meet you. You're not as important as his job, obviously.
You grab your things and exit the place, the kind girl behind the counter smiles sadly at you and waves her hand as goodbye. You smile, or at least try, in her direction and leave the coffee shop.
You feel itchy all over. This… This is… weird . Why are you feeling like this? You have no right to feel… disappointed, hurt . He's a Hero. He's freaking Number One, pro hero Deku. His job will always come first. But you can't help it. It's like…
You're not my priority, Y/N. Understand that you'll never be. I have to concentrate in my job if want to fucking be Number one.
You haven't heard his voice in your head for a long time now. And hearing it again is… painful. Hurting. Choking .
Every sound around you feels a hundred times louder as you walk, every light blinds you and you don't realize you're bumping into almost everyone around. The pressure on your neck is getting stronger and you can't breathe. You can't think. Your vision is turning black, like that night at the ramen shop with Mineta. A panic attack . You're having one in the middle of the street. How embarrassing . How pathetic .
You want the blackness to finally evolve you, and don't let go.
And then you see it, you feel it. Green eyes and strong hands grabbing your shoulders. You know those green eyes, you have seen them before. He's moving his mouth but you can't hear his voice. He looks worried; why is he worried? You feel rough hands that grab your face as softly as he can, and they are cold. You aren't used to the cold, but you like it. It's refreshing.
"...hear me? Y/N, please breathe, okay? Breathe with me," his voice is comforting, so you follow him, you breathe with him. "That's it… You're okay. We are okay."
The sight around you starts to clear, the blackness dissipates and you see clearly. His face is the first thing your eyes find. You know him. "Izuku?"
" Yes! Yes, it's me… Hi, love," he smiles relieved. You look around realizing you're in the middle of a circle, with him. People are watching, some worried, some annoyed. Embarrassing .
You realize then that Izuku's hands are around your face, holding you with no intention of letting go. "Izuku…"
He blinks, realizing then probably your surroundings and nods. "Yes, come one, let's go…"
Izuku helps you stand, his arm surrounding your waist pulling your weight on him so he helps you walk. Everyone starts clapping, clearly recognizing hero Deku even in his civilian clothes.
He walks you to your apartment in silence. Until you walk into the building, "There's no elevator?"
"No, it's been broken since before I got here," you know your voice sounds throaty, and the expression on his face says it worries him.
He sighs looking at the long stairs ahead. He knows you live on the fourth floor. "Okay, then," he says before picking you up, bridal style.
"Izuku! I can walk!"
"No, you can't. You have been putting your weight on me the whole way here."
"Still, I…"
"Shut up. Let me help," his tone it's so authoritative you have no other option than to do that. Shut up and let him help, because you know you wouldn't be able to climb those stairs up on your own even if you tried.
On the way up, you can't avoid watching him. He looks… angry . You have never seen him like that, or better said, you have never experienced his anger, you have seen him angry on the TV, fighting villains.
"I'm sorry," you say, and he stops midway, his eyes traveling to your face.
"You're apologizing for having a panic attack?" He's frowning, his tone incredulous, but serious. It makes tingles run your body.
"I'm… Yes, it's embarrassing ," you feel your voice crack a bit, and you hate that.
"Y/N, it's not embarrassing. It's a trauma response. And it's okay to go through it. But you need to heal…"
You look away from his face, tears already burning your eyes. You can't help but hear his voice again.
Having panic attacks in public is embarrassing, Y/N. You have to control them. Don't be fucking weak.
" He said… he said they were embarrassing."
You know you shouldn't be saying this to Izuku, but you said it even before you could actually think it.
" Who said-…" Izuku stops mid sentence. Takes a deep, deep breath, and continues climbing the stairs in silence. You don't dare look up. He's so tense and angry, you don't really have the courage to witness that right now.
When you arrive at the fourth floor you signal him which one is your apartment. And even when you are in front of the door, he doesn't put you on the ground. He stands there, waiting patiently, as you search for the key card on your bag and when the door is open he enters with you in his arms. He of course takes his shoes off at the entrance and walks inside.
He doesn't say anything as he sits you over the small couch and sits next to you, his arm touching yours and taking almost all the space around you. His smell is around and you like it.
His face is even closer to yours when he asks, worried, "When were you going to tell me you have panic attacks?"
"I… I don't want to bother anyone with them." You tell the truth. You can't lie to him.
"That's what he told you? That they are a bother?" You simply shrug, not really wanting to answer. "Y/N, I'm not angry or feel like this is a bother. I'm worried, you need help."
"I am going to therapy. I've been going since I'm five, Izuku. I had a handle on them, they weren't recurrent until…"
"Until he left you," he finishes for you, slightly shaking his head and you nod.
Izuku sighs, standing up and you watch him. Is he going away? Is he embarrassed and going away, deciding not to involve or do anything with your broken self?
"Do you mind if I make us both tea?"
You shake your head rapidly in answer. He smiles and walks towards the kitchen. You follow his every move, being a small apartment it's easy to do it.
Izuku is… staying . For tea. He's not leaving. He's not leaving you alone after a panic attack. Like Mineta. But he's your best friend, Mineta has always been there; like you have been there for him even after the war he had to be part of at such a young age and he tried to push you away. Izuku doesn't have that obligation. Izuku… is your friend? Well, that's how you like to think of him since you got to know him this past months. But the category of best friend was not there for him yet. You were just getting to know each other. So, why is he here? Why does he stay?
"It's ready," he suddenly says, sitting back next to you with the two mugs of tea. He gives you one and you accept it a bit startled.
The sudden smell of lemon with honey tea that invades your nose as you bring it closer to drink immediately relaxes you. You smile after taking a sip.
You look back at him and he's watching intently at you, like he's waiting for your reaction.
"You remembered," you say and you really want to cry now.
He smiles, a hand flying to the back of his head to scratch it nervously, "You said it was your favorite."
You did. On a text message, when the topic was favorite drinks . But the fact that he remembered that you said it, it is… overwhelming.
Silence again. On your part it's more relaxed, but you can feel him a bit anxious. You decide to give him space, time to say whatever it is that it's inside his mind.
Until he does.
"You're not the only one… struggling still… with all that happened." He says as he sets his mug on the little coffee table in front of you. It's very small, mostly for decoration. Only space for the two mugs you're using at the moment. Izuku then lays his elbows over his knees, fingers fidgeting in the middle clearly showing his nervousness. "I have nightmares. Very bad ones, since the war. Uraraka used to help a lot, she was always there for me when I needed her."
This is the first time he talks about her this willingly, so you just keep silent and give him the space he needs to say whatever he wants.
"I was finally getting better… and then… she wasn't there anymore…"
"The nightmares came back?" He simply nods. You can't help yourself but to direct your hand towards his shoulder in a form of comfort, which he accepts with a small smile.
"I guess… we are two broken people, trying to pick up the pieces left. Aren't we?"
His eyes shine with tears he refuses to set free, probably also what your own looked like. He smiles sadly at you, before patting your hand that still holds his shoulder.
You both stay in silence for a little while before Izuku breaks the silence again.
"I'm sorry about today. I had…" He sighs. "I had a discussion with a partner."
Partner? You know Izuku doesn't have many partners. One is Hero Shoto, who also is his best friend. You doubt he had a discussion with him, you couldn't actually see Shoto in a heated discussion at all. And the other one is… Oh .
"What did he do now?" You don't even have to mention his name. You and Izuku know who you're talking about.
The green-haired man rolls his eyes. "We have been civil. For the sake of everybody around us. And if I'm being honest, we work well together. In fights, we understand each other perfectly. So we decided to just be professional and not bring up anything that happened."
You know this. Izuku had already told you this once, when he called you on his lunch break to talk to you about a cute little butterfly that he would send you the picture of when he was less busy and you heard Bakugou's voice on the back calling for Izuku. They had been on a mission together.
"Until…" Izuku continues, "Until this morning, when he decided to bring up our Friday morning's coffee."
" What?! " You frown. How did he know? Nobody knew, besides Mineta and probably Shoto on Izuku's side. Nobody else knew… unless…
"Paparazzis discovered us. I don't know how. I'm always careful when meeting you. I take a lot of turns and I disguise myself the best I can so they don't recognize me. But they found out." He sighs, a hand sliding his green and black curls back. "They released an article yesterday. About us."
Izuku takes out his phone, searching for something before showing it to you.
NEWLY BACHELOR, NUMBER ONE PRO HERO DEKU, FOUNDS NEW SWEETHEART?
Yes, my readers, this is apparently what it looks like. A young, pretty lady like this caught the attention of the Symbol of Hope quite fast, if you ask for my humble opinion.
We don't have much information about her, sadly. Only that this lady has our favorite Pro Hero on her clutches... Look at the way he looks at her in the following pictures!
Isn't it cute? Let me be honest, as a fan of Deku myself, I can't avoid feeling a bit heartbroken, but I also think that this man deserves all the happiness anyone can give him. Don't you agree? And after that sudden break up with Pro Hero Uravity that caught everyone by surprise, makes me think… Does this lady have anything to do with it? Did she catch Pro Hero Deku's heart from before, causing the break up? Mmm, so many questions, readers, that we don't have the answers yet! But no mind, we will try our best to find them! Be patient, and in the meantime, show a bit of support for our favorite Number One Hero.
You feel like vomiting. Your picture, clear as day, has never been on the front page of a magazine. Bakugou has always protected his privacy so meticulously, and that included you. The media and his fans knew he had a relationship, but he never let anyone get a glimpse of it.
And here you are now, on the front page of Go-zzip Hero magazine, the picture showing you sitting in front of Izuku in that coffee shop, talking so close to his face it practically looks like you're kissing. Oh, shit . You do that? You actually speak that close to him??
You swallow thickly, looking back up at Izuku.
"I am so sorry, Izuku, I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't know. None of us did. But I'm sorry I wasn't more careful…"
"Don't be silly. This is not your fault."
"Yours either."
You both smile shyly at each other. This is… chaotic. Being involved with him is… OH, SHIT.
"What? What is it?" He asks as he sees your eyes open wide in fear.
"Your fans are gonna kill me..."
"No, they aren't…"
"Yes, they are! Oh my God!" You stand, after putting your mug over the table next to his, a bit wobbly on the legs which makes him react fast to hold you if you fall, but you don't. You start walking one way to the other of your small living room. "I'm so food for the fishes… they are going to kill me!"
Izuku chuckles. "No, they aren't, Y/N…"
"Don't laugh! Yes, they are! Especially after what that journalist said! They even hinted that probably I was the reason you broke up with Uraraka!"
"Which is not true. I'll call my manager and PR team and ask for an interview with the magazine and clarify this. You don't have anything to worry about. Neither does Mineta. I'll clarify that we are just friends…"
That makes you freeze in place, frowning. "Mineta? What does he have to do with this?"
Izuku frowns too, looking confused at you. "Aren't you… Isn't he… Aren't you dating ?"
"WHAT?!" By Izuku's flinching, you realize you raised your tone a bit louder than you intended. "Sorry…Mineta is my best friend, Izuku. He's like a brother to me."
Izuku looks so confused, "But… But you always speak about him. He cooks for you, he is… he is here almost everyday for you, and he did all that stuff to piss off Bakugou for you, like a…"
"Like a brother would." You smile. "I do think that somehow our souls are connected, because I know I could leave apart from anyone, except him . He's that annoying sticky thing you get used to living with and don't want to unstick, because if you do something will miss. Because he's my brother. I wouldn't be able to live without his annoying ass." Izuku laughs with you. You walk back to sitting next to him as silence comes back. Then, you keep talking, "Mineta has been there when I had no one. Even when we were five years old and my parents died in a car accident, provoked by a hero-villain fight." Deku tenses, but keeps his attention on you. "We used to play heroes when we were kids and fantasize about how we were going to be Number One. Both of us, together. And then the accident happened. I was left alone. I didn't have much family around, only my old great-grandma that was barely suitable to raise a child. So I was given to the state. I went to an orphanage."
You don't know why you're baring your soul to Izuku like this. This was a painful, very intimate part of your history nobody knew but Mineta. Not even Bakugou knew. He never insisted for you to tell him. He simply accepted that you were Mineta's best friend, end of sentence. He never questioned anything. Now you wonder if that was a good or a bad thing.
"That's when your panic attacks began?" He asks a bit timidly. You nod.
"It happened that same day, when I was given the news about their deaths. A kind lady had been there with me, explaining what it all meant. She was kind, but she didn't have much experience. Imagine walking into a room as a kid where your parents are lying dead in two stretchers and being told these are your parents and you're not gonna see them anymore ." Izuku flinches again, a chill clearly running down his back. "A few hours later, I had my first panic attack. I lost consciousness for almost an hour. It was the longest one I ever had and doctors were worried not enough oxygen had gone to my brain, considering that even when I woke up I wasn't talking to anyone."
"Until Mineta and Auntie Asiki came to see me at the hospital. The second Mineta lay down next to me in the hospital bed, I started crying, and he held me. We were kids, not knowing anything about life, and he still understood that I needed him. Auntie Asiki offered to bring me home with her and Mineta, but the forms to the orphanage had already been filled and accepted. It would take a lot of money, lawyers and procedures to let her, a single mother, take my custody. And while her heart and intentions were hugely appreciated for even thinking about it, it was impossible."
"I didn't know Mineta's mom was a single mother." Izuku frowns, probably guilting himself about it, because of everything they, as class A, had been through their years at UA.
"He doesn't like speaking about it. He really has to trust you to tell you about it."
Izuku nods, instantly respecting that decision. He then scratches his neck again.
"So, you and him are not…"
You chuckle. "Not even if he was the last man on Earth." Izuku laughs too.
" Ouch , that wounds me so deep, bun," Mineta's voice is heard from the entrance as he walks inside your apartment.
Shit , you haven't heard him at all. The worry on your face is visible, because you have been talking about him, about his private life, and you hadn't consulted him before. You feel so bad, so worried he'll get mad at you.
Mineta sees you and simply shrugs, "It's okay, bun, I trust Midoriya." He then winks at you and you feel the worry disappear completely.
"Thank you, Mineta. I promise I won't speak about it to anyone."
"It's okay," Mineta answers Izuku, pulling his thumb up in his direction. You smile watching their interaction. "I'm not here though to have this conversation." Your best friend gets closer to where you are, a worried expression on his face. "I was told you had another one, in the middle of the street.." You sigh, looking down at your hands that lay in your lap. "Was it because of him again?"
You nod and Mineta is the one who sighs this time.
"About Bakugou?" Izuku asks then, frowning.
You nod again. "My therapist is helping, but yes, they appear after I remember something, random things he once had said to me."
"Why it doesn't fucking surprise me…" Izuku barks as he stands from the couch and walks, just like you had moments ago. Mineta opens his eyes wide, watching amused at Izuku's reaction.
"He's such a fucking jerk… But we already knew that, didn't we?"
Izuku immediately agrees with Mineta.
"I should have punched him harder," Izuku's comment makes you choke on the tea you were about to swallow.
"You what?!" Both you and Mineta speak at the same time. You look worried about the whole situation, the discussion clearly hadn't been a simple one if there had been fists involved. Mineta looks like a kid given the awaited present on his birthday.
"What really happened, Izuku?" You ask, worry clear on your tone.
"He saw the article, clearly. I came back from night patrol and was changing in the locker rooms, the whole night shift was there preparing to go home at the same time the morning shift was getting ready to start their patrols. And he started making comments about you and me, about how I apparently like his leftovers, about how you are a gold digger and now went for me."
"He did not fucking say that!" Mineta stands up, ready to beat some ass, Bakugou's, specifically.
"He did! I couldn't not do anything. I tried to be civil and only told him to stop talking about us, that he didn't know anything. And I told him to stop playing the victim, because he was none. The only victims in this story are you and me," Izuku looks at you like he's assuring you, "They don't have the right to even comment on this."
"Hell yeah, Midoriya!" Mineta cheers, raising his hand for Izuku to high five him, and the green-haired does, animated. You shake your head trying to hold your smile back. "What did corn-head say then?"
Izuku laughs at Mineta's nickname for Bakugou, bumping his fist again with the man in agreement.
You roll your eyes. Jesus , men are such idiots with nicknames.
"He then said that… I don't know if I should repeat it…" Izuku and Mineta both look at you, Mineta already intuitively knows.
"He talked… he talked about our sex life, didn't he?" You ask after a minute of silence.
Izuku nods.
"Tell me you did punch him hard though…" Mineta is fuming, you can see the smoke coming out his ears, metaphorically.
"Of course I did. Twice, before someone pushed me away."
"Well done, man." Mineta high fives Izuku again.
"You shouldn't… you didn't have to…"
"I won't let him or anybody speak about you that way, Y/N. Now that I know all you've been through, I won't even give them a chance to."
You move before you think, again. One second you're seated on the couch, and the next you're hugging Izuku. Arms around his neck strongly, as your face hides in your arm and his shoulder. It takes him a second, but he reacts by hugging back, strong arms surrounding your waist as delicately as he can, but also firm and securely.
You heard Mineta walk out of the living room towards the kitchen to entertain himself with anything.
And you feel… safe . You feel so safe in Izuku's arms, it's so comforting and nice.
You feel him take a deep breath over your head, as if your smell was comforting to him. You like that idea. That at least in something so insignificant like your smell, he finds comfort and peace. Relax and ease.
"Thank you, Izuku," you whisper only for him to listen.
He shakes his head, "You have nothing to thank me for."
"I do, though. Not only for those punches," you say backing away just a bit so you can see his face. He smiles proudly at the mention of the punches. "But because you helped me with my panic attacks… Twice."
"Twice?" He asks confusedly, but you nod.
"The first Friday we went to have a coffee, remember?" He nods, "I was waiting, and because it was my first time out of my apartment without Mineta I was feeling overwhelmed and… and then you appeared at the door. And all I felt was relief… I felt safe with you there, so it stopped even before it began."
You are looking at his eyes, and you can see the emotion in them as you speak. He then rests his forehead on yours and takes a deep breath, clearly pushing his emotion back in so he can speak.
"I'll be there for you… I want to be there for you, if you want me…"
"I want you," you immediately answer, "I want you to be here."
"Then I will."
"I also want to be there for you," you scratch the back of his head softly, as he bites his bottom lip, taking a deep breath. He looks like he's trying to control himself from doing something then and there, and that makes you smile.
"I want you . I want you to be there too." He repeats your exact same words, making you feel tingles all over your body as you feel his fingertips caress lightly, timidly, the bit of skin showing at your waist.
"Then I will."
You feel him moving, his nose caressing yours in a cute manner. Slowly getting closer, lips barely touching and…
"Sorry to be a cockblock, but your phone is ringing, Midoriya."
The bubble is popped , so you both back away, clearing your throats and fixing your clothes out of nervousness.
"Oh, yeah, ummm…" Izuku walks back towards the kitchen to search for his phone. "It's Shoto. He's probably heard already about the fight this morning. I should pick this." You nod, signaling to your room for his privacy and he thanks you as he walks there.
Your eyes follow him until the door is closed, and then they go towards the kitchen, where Mineta is standing, hip against the counter and a bowl of snacks in his hands he found somewhere, eating them slowly as he looks at you accusatory. A knowing smirk in his face.
"Shut up."
"I didn't say anything… yet."
You roll your eyes. "Spit it out." You walk towards him, picking some of the snacks on the bowl and eating.
"I have nothing to say, Y/N."
That's impossible, he always has something to say.
"Or should I call you Ms. Midoriya from now on?"
Ah, there it is.
You punch him in the arm and he laughs out loud.
PART I - PART II - PART III
#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#mha angst#mha fluff#mha x reader#bnha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha angst#mha midoriya izuku x reader#mha midoriya izuku#mha midoriya fluff#mha midoriya angst#bnha midoriya x reader#bnha midoriya izuku#bnha midoriya fluff#bnha midoriya angst#mha deku#bnha deku#deku x reader#izuku midoriya x reader#ex! bakugou katsuki x reader#midoriya izuku continuation
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Learning to Live Part 32
summary: It’s the night of his bachelor party, and a sober Javier gets a call from his very drunk fiancée asking him to pick her up from her bachelorette party. Three days later, it’s their wedding day, and Javier hasn’t seen or talked to his bride since the night before—they’d agreed not to see each other until it was time to say ‘I do,’ and his father took it one step further by having her guarded to keep Javier away. Will that really stop him from going to her before the big event (with his eyes covered)?
rating: M (This chapter is very story-driven, BUT there’s a little bit of inappropriate touching. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), Drunk!Reader, bachelor/bachelorette parties, emotional hurt/comfort, dysfunctional family, Javier taking care of you while you’re drunk and when you get sick (it’s very sweet), grief, discussion of pregnancy, WEDDING, getting ready for the wedding, Chucho hardcore not letting you see each other before the wedding, blindfolded Javier sneaking to where you are anyway, tying his bow tie, nerves, panic attack, EMOTIONS, Javier crying when he sees you in your dress, EXTREMELY romantic things said, Javier being cute with kids, you both wrote your own vows (did I mention emotions and romantic things said?), Chucho being a great officiant, (1) bible verse about love with no mention of God/Jesus/anything religious, crying, comedy sprinkled in, a fun and heartfelt chapter)
pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (no physical descriptions)
word count: 23k+ (Tumblr hates my long chapters and might not let you reblog with a comment. Since reblogs are super important, if you wish to comment, feel free to do it in the comments on the post or send me an ask. 🥰🥰🥰)
a/n: Get your tissues ready; it’s time to get married! 🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭 First of all, Happy Birthday to this story! 2 years old! I just want to thank everyone who’s continued reading this labor of my love. All the comments, reblogs, and likes mean the world to me! They make me want to write more, too. I know there’s no smut in this one, but, in my opinion, I think it’s still really good, and the people who’ve read it agree. There also was literally no opportunity for them to be alone and do anything more than touching—you can blame Chucho for keeping them apart. But the next chapter? Oh, it’s on. It’s gonna be so horny. Lol Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing. I love you.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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In the year 1981, Ronald Reagan was sworn in as the 40th President of the United States and almost assassinated two months later; the Space Shuttle Columbia became the first crewed reusable spacecraft to return from orbit successfully, and the wedding of Prince Charles and Diana Spencer was watched by over 750 million people worldwide.
It also happened to be the year Javier Peña’s life went to shit.
Looking back at all that happened, he could pinpoint the exact moment everything went wrong. It wasn’t disappearing in the early hours on the day he was supposed to be wed; it was six months earlier when he let a pretty girl, who never once acknowledged his existence in the several years they went to school together, buy him a drink—that was the beginning of the end. That was the start of his downfall and had his life veering off course.
By the time his wedding to Lorraine had rolled around in early September, Javier was at the lowest he'd ever been in his twenty-two years of life—so depressed, hopeless, and scared that he became numb and was just existing instead of living. Back then, he still had buddies in Laredo with whom he'd gone to high school, and though Lorraine didn't let him hang out with them much, she approved of them throwing him a bachelor party the weekend before their nuptials were supposed to take place.
He hadn't wanted one.
Who would want to celebrate marrying someone they didn't love or even liked? Marriage to Lorraine was a prison sentence, and his only crime had been dating the wrong woman. It’d also be a cruel reminder that he’d lose what little freedom he had in a week’s time.
His friends had known him for many years, having practically grown up together, and they were well aware of Javier’s dread. They had tried to talk him out of going through with it on multiple occasions, but he always stood firm that he wouldn’t abandon his child and their mother, and that he got himself into the mess, and he needed to own up to it—plus there was Lorraine’s father who told Javier he’d never meet his kid if he didn’t marry her.
To stop his pals from worrying about him, he finally agreed to the party and tried his best to act like he was fine when, in reality, his world was crumbling.
It may come as a surprise, but he was once a very social creature who had a lot of friends in his youth—his three closest had been Benito Esquivel, Salvador ‘Sal’ Soto, and Ken Miller. These were the guys who packed him into Sal’s moss green colored ‘72 Chevrolet Blazer and took him on a road trip to Austin, where they went bar hopping and ended up at a strip club, as was the course for bachelor parties.
Javier drank so much that night his memory was spotty on all that had happened, yet he distinctly remembered a moment when he was completely wasted in a private room at the club, crying while getting a lap dance and the kind stripper comforting him in the middle of it.
His first bachelor party didn’t go so well and wasn’t something he liked to think back on. He wished he could rip that entire chapter out of his life, but it was important for shaping the man he became—it began a chain of events that would eventually lead him to finding the perfect woman he was meant to be with—the one who truly loved him, wanted nothing more than for him to be happy, and filled that part of him he’d always been missing.
Cielito was the love of his life, his soulmate, his media naranja.
And they shared the same kind of love his parents once had, which he’d always dreamed of having but never imagined he’d actually get to experience.
His buddies had tried to keep in contact with him after he ran away, but he was too ashamed of how he left and didn't want their pity. It wasn't until his mother's funeral in '91 that he saw most of them again, and though he appreciated them being there, he kept them at arm's length. Even when he returned home in '93 and '96, he continued avoiding them because he wasn’t the same Javi they once knew, and he didn’t want to see the looks on their faces when they realized how fucked up he’d become.
Now, he was having his second bachelor party seventeen years after the first, and he couldn’t be happier celebrating that he was getting married in a few days.
This time around, his dad planned the party, and there wasn’t any bar hopping or strip clubs. Instead, Chucho got Javier’s tíos (uncles) and male primos (cousins) together for an asada (barbecue) in his backyard.
It was close to midnight, and he knew the party wouldn’t end any time soon. His family were sitting in groups, taking up the picnic table, or sitting with him in lawn chairs around the large fire pit, which was currently ablaze, with the tall flames licking up toward the sky. He’d already eaten and was nursing his third beer over the many hours he’d been there, the bottle in his hand resting on his jean-clad thigh. The fire and his black leather jacket were keeping him warm while he listened to his friend Ken, sitting beside him talking about his four-year-old daughter’s recent T-ball game.
“—so she hits the ball off the tee,” he said, “and throws her bat as hard as she can behind her at the backstop—which, thank fuck they don’t have catchers—and starts runnin’ as fast as her little legs can go, only to stop halfway to first base to pick up the ball and chuck it with all her might out of bounds.”
Javier chuckled and sipped his drink—he couldn’t wait to tell these kinds of stories about his own children.
“Clever kid,” Benito replied, sitting on his other side. “How pissed off was Emily when she didn’t get to stay on first base?”
“You know Em, Benny. That little girl is more fiery than the hair on her head.” Her father had dark blonde hair, and she had bright red, yet both shared ocean-blue eyes.
A few months back, Javier felt like he was finally in a place where he could reconnect with his old friends. He’d gone out for drinks with Benito and Ken a few times to catch up, and they’d shown him pictures of their families; Ken had three daughters, and Emily was his youngest and the only one with red hair. He’d even introduced his wif-fiancée to them and took her to have dinner with them and their wives—it was nice.
He tried to reach out to Sal, but the other man was a part of the Special Forces in the army and had spent more time deployed than at home since Desert Storm—Benito and Ken said he was okay, or as okay as a guy can be after spending so many years in active duty. It made Javier feel like a real asshole for avoiding them for so long when they’d just wanted to be there for him like they were for Sal, who’d been through more dangerous and worse shit than him.
By no means were he and his old friends back to having the tight bond they shared when they were twenty-two or had anything close to his relationship with Steve—they’d grown too far apart and were virtually strangers now. That didn’t mean it wasn’t great to hang out with people who knew him before Lorraine and hadn’t taken her side or were judgemental of the choices he made.
“Big tantrum?” Benito asked.
“A complete meltdown. You’re gonna love havin’ kids, Jav.” Ken patted him on the shoulder.
“They have their moments,” Benito added, “pero, dios mio, mi vida no sería la misma sin ellos (but, my god, my life wouldn’t be the same without them). I love my little terrors.” He had five children; his littlest wasn’t even a year old.
“Yeah,” Javier said fondly. “I’m really fucking excited to have kids and get married.”
The other two men were smiling.
“And that’s how it always should’ve been,” Ken replied. “That’s how we know you’re marryin’ the right girl this time. It’s great to see how happy you are—and Benny and I can tell you’re actually happy.”
“Yeah,” Benito said, “‘Cause you’re smiling this time around and not crying—that stripper, though, what was her name? Diamond? Ruby? Shit, what was it?”
“Jade, maybe?” Ken answered. “You should remember, Benny, you’re the one she took home.”
“I can remember her amazing tits and ass, but couldn’t tell you what the hell she looked like or her name.”
Javier couldn’t remember what she looked like or her name either, which made him frown.
“Do you guys have that one woman you can remember every fucking detail about the first time you hooked up?” Benito asked. “She haunts you—I’m talking her face is burned in your brain, and you can remember everything like what she smelled like or how soft her skin was?”
“Yeah,” Ken said. “That girl, my third year in college.” He raised his beer bottle.
“The one who deepthroated you for the first time? You wouldn’t shut up about her.”
“That’s the one—too bad she wasn’t lookin’ for anythin’ serious. Best sex I’ve ever had; don’t tell my wife that.” Ken and Benito chuckled.
“Mine was Carmen’s roommate.” Carmen was Benito’s wife and someone they went to school with. “We had a casual thing before I started dating Carmen—her name was Valentina, and mi mamá would not have liked her, which was fine; she wasn’t wife material anyway.”
What did he mean by that?
“What about you, Javi?” Ken asked.
“I’m marrying mine,” he answered and took a drink of his beer.
Benito scoffed. “Are you just saying that shit, or do you mean it?”
He met the other man’s eyes.
“I’m being completely serious. She’s it, and I’m marrying her.”
Benito blew out air, shaking his head. “You lucky pendejo (asshole).”
“Now you gotta tell us what she’s like,” Ken said, and this conversation just took a turn in a direction he did not want to go in—even when he was younger, he didn’t like to brag about what went on in the bedroom.
Javier had never been happier for his cell phone to ring, but the feeling only lasted a moment as he pulled it off his belt before panic slammed into him that something was wrong because it was Cielito calling him. She was out having her bachelorette party with her girlfriends at the town bar.
“I gotta take this,” he said, setting his beer on the ground and groaning as he got up from his chair. He briskly walked out of earshot of everyone else.
His heart was pounding a mile a minute. He hit the accept button and answered when the Nokia phone was at his ear, “Hello?”
“Ohhh myyy god,” his wif-fiancée slurred on the other end. “How do you make ans’ring the phone sooo sexy?”
He let out a breath that she didn’t sound like she was in trouble.
“I don’t know—are you okay, baby?”
"Nooo, I miss you, and I wan’ you and I need you to come ge’ me—can you pleeease come ge’ me? I don' wanna be out anymore—I wanna be at home with you and naked in our bed; wait, have I told you how amazing you fuck? If there-was like an Olympics for fucking, you'd ge’ all the gold medals tha’s how good you are.” She inhaled before she continued speaking. “And your face, god, I miss your stupidly han’some face with your big baby cow eyes tha’ Daphne and Velma totally inherited from you, and tha’ gorgeous nose, and your lips—everything on tha’ mug of yours is perfec,’ and I canno’ believe you’re marrying me. Me?! How the fuck did I ge’ so lucky?! Like, you’re too pretty for me, and usu’lly, the pretty boys jus’ wan’ my family’s money—like fucking Daniel,” she fumed. “But you jus’ like me for me, and I’m sooo in love with you tha’ I canno’ stand bein’ so far away from you righ’ now. Javiii, can you pleeease come pick me up?"
Oh, she was drunk and missed him.
With how sloshed she sounded, it had him worried she hadn’t eaten much food or had enough water, and he wanted to go to her right that second to get her home and sober her up so she wasn’t too miserable the next day. He was trying to ignore what she said about her ex, but the more he learned about the guy, the higher the chances rose that he’d kick the fucker’s ass if they ever met.
"Are you sure you want to leave early?" he asked.
"Yesss, pleeease. I wanna go home wit’ you."
"Are you somewhere safe, cariño (sweetheart)?" It didn’t sound like she was inside the bar.
“I’m ou’side the backdoor where people smoke—Stacy and Arleta from the grocery store are ou’ here wit’ meee. Say hi to Javi!”
He could tell she held the phone toward them.
“Hi, Javi,” he heard the two women say. “Are you coming to ge’ me?” Cielito asked.
“Yes, mi amor. I just need to tell everyone bye—don’t hang up.”
He didn't as he quickly walked over to say goodbye and thank his dad, friends, and family for the lovely night, telling them his fiancée wasn't feeling good and he needed to go pick her up—the plan had always been he’d be her designated driver since he hadn’t wanted to drink too much; the rest of the people at her party had their own rides.
His long legs had him striding toward where his pickup was parked.
“Did you have a good time?” he asked her.
His truck door squealed as he opened it and got inside.
“Yesss! There was karaoke and I had a lot of tequila. Like a lot. Like sooo much, I sang “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic withou’ anyone daring me to—tha’ movie is sooo fucking sad. If we were in the freezing water and you pu’ me on a door or whatever piece of wood, you beh your ass I’m gonna figure ou’ a way to ge’ you on it with me. I’m not gonna be a fucking liar and say I won’ leggo and fucking leggo! You’re gonna be like nex’ to me, or hell, you could ge’ on top of me, and we’d survive—I’d make sure we both survived.”
She made him smile because this wasn’t the first time she’d gone on this rant.
He was already on the road heading toward town.
“I’d make sure we survived, too, baby. I’d use my body heat to keep you warm.”
“Why is tha’ sooo romantic? Honestly, I think you’d figure ou’ a way to ge’ us into one of the lifeboats.”
“Probably.” He shrugged.
“And then we’d ge’ to Amer’ca and start our new life together and have sooo many babies.”
He was still smiling. “Yeah—so many babies?”
“It was ye olden times when the only thing women could do was take care of their husbands and babies, plus there was basic’ly no birth control and you only cream pie, sooo yeah, we’d hav’ a ridic’lous amoun’ of babies.”
“I wanna have a ridiculous amount of babies with you now.”
“God, I know you do, and I wanna have all your babies, all of them, ‘cause you’re gonna be the bes’ dad. Like, the bes’, and our kids will be sooo lucky to have you, and they’re gonna love you sooo much and be so cute—I hope they look like you—you were sush a cutie, and I’d love to have a bunch of mini yous.”
“I want them to look like the both of us.”
“Meh, you’re cuter.”
“Stop that, you’re fucking adorable, and I’d love if our kids looked like you.”
“Fine.”
“Why’d you drink so much tequila, mi amor? That stuff makes us—”
“Horny?” she finished for him. “Our clothes magic’ly disappear.” Her speech was still slurring. “Robyn got us Tequila Sunrises, then Cat—” That was the wife of one of her coworkers at the hospital; they hung out with the couple occasionally. “—got us another round of them, bu’ Alma—” His prima (cousin) and sister of Sebastián. “—got us all tequila shots, and I also got us tequila shots, and I think there was another round—too much tequila, whish is why I called you to pick me up.”
His mouth turned down in a frown.
“Please tell me you had some food, too, and water.”
“Yesss, I knew you’d worry, so I ate a plate of fries and shared mozz-mozzarella.” She giggled. “Tha’s a fun word to say—I shared mozzarella sticks with the girls, and I drank water—had a glass aft’r ev’ry drink ‘cause I was-like, ‘If my Javi were here righ’ now, he’d wan’ me staying hydrated,’ and I couldn’ le’ you down.”
He smiled. “Thank you, baby. I’m proud of you.”
There was someone in the background who sounded just as drunk as her, asking her, “Wha’ are you doin’ out here?” It was Robyn.
“Calling Javi,” Cielito answered.
“Come back inside. You said you were goin’ pee.”
“I wen’ and Javi’s comin’ to pick me up. I’m waitin’ for him to ge’ here.”
“Girl, it’s barely pas’ midnigh’, and your bachelorette party! Leave the man alone and have fun with us! We’ll get pie after here at the diner.” It was open twenty-four hours.
“I need him,” she whined.
“Oh my god, you’re ditchin’ us for dick!”
“It’s really good dick, and I need it!”
“Mi amor?” Javi said to get her attention.
“Yes?” she answered.
“I’m not gonna fool around with you while you’re fucked up…”
“I know,” she whispered. “Don’ tell anyone, bu’ I’m too drunk, and I hate it. I wanna go home.”
“Okay, cariño (sweetheart). I’ll be there soon to pick you up.”
Another voice was heard on her end. “Why are you guys ou’ here?” He was pretty sure it was his prima, Alma.
“She’s ditchin’ us for dick!” Robyn exclaimed.
“I told you it’s really good dick!” Cielito said just as loud.
“Gross!” Alma was slurring her words, too, and sounded disgusted. “You’re gonna-make-me puke!”
“Sorry, Alma,” the other two women replied in unison.
“It’s okay,” Alma said. “You’re leaving already? I don’ wan’ you to go. We’re having so mush fun!”
“Yeah, don’ go!” He thought that was Cat. “This is the only night I can go ou’ alone this month! Le’s keep partying!”
“I’m sorry, guys,” Cielito responded. “Tequila was a mistake, and I need to go home.”
Javier figured she’d forgotten he was on the phone with her.
“I’m horny, too,” Robyn said, “bu’ you don’ see me booty callin’ my boyfriend to ge’ me, and he’s got really good dick, too!”
“¡Guácala (Gross)!” Alma interjected. “No sé por qué salgo contigo (I don’t know why I hang out with you).”
“Because we’re fun!” Robyn said. “Don’ lie, you loved it when I got our bride-to-be to rap “Shoop” with me.” Javier only knew that Salt-N-Pepa song because he’d heard his bride-to-be rap it on many occasions—she was really good, to be honest.
“You are fun, bu’ who wan’s to hear about their brother and cousin’s sex lives?”
“Sorry, Alma,” Robyn and Cielito said again.
“You all can still have fun withou’ me!” his wif-fiancée told them.
“A bachelorette party withou’ a bachelorette?” Robyn asked.
“I think that jus’ makes it a girls' night out—yeah, you can have a girls' night out! Fuck, where’s Javi? Did I tell you guys he’s comin’ to ge’ me? Wait, my phone! Javi, are you still there?”
“Yes, baby, I’m still here.”
“Where are you?”
“Maybe ten minutes away.”
“Ugh, okay.” She whispered the next bit loudly, “Robyn’s mad at me.”
“Damn straigh,’ I’m mad at you!” Robyn said. “It’s your bachelorette party, and you’re abandonin’ us for a man!”
“But he’s like a really grea’ man, and wonderful, and han’some, and the bes’, and I love him so, so, so, sooo, mush and wanna have his babies. So, I’m not abandonin’ you for ‘a man,’ I’m abandonin’ you for the greates’ man alive, and you can’ be mad at me for tha’.”
What she said had Javier grinning.
“Y’all are too disgustingly in love, but wha’ever, nex’ girls' night, no fuckin’ tequila.”
She forgot he was on the phone with her again and listened to their drunken discussion about what they should do for a girls' night, going off topic a few times. Her friends stayed with her until he arrived.
He pulled into the parking lot and stopped at the back of the building where he saw the group of women and some other bar patrons hanging out by the door, the area lit by two lights on the building.
“Cielito?” he said, hoping it’d get her attention. “Are you still there?”
“Oh my god, Javi!” Came her exclamation. “Where are you?!”
The truck was put into park, and he kept it idling as he got out.
“To your left.”
Her head turned to the right, making him snort with a smile on his lips.
“Your other left, mi amor,” he said. He’d walked around to open the passenger door, and her gaze finally landed on him under the orangeish glow of a towering street light.
“He’s here!” she squealed, and he ended the call, putting his phone back on his belt. He watched her shove her own in her purse before she hugged all of her friends goodbye.
Javier had seen the dress she was going to wear tonight; he just hadn’t seen her wearing it. When she turned his way and he got a good look at her, his mouth fell open, and he thought his heart would beat out of his chest like a cartoon character in love.
The champagne-colored mini dress was long-sleeved and covered in sequins, the neckline plunging to accentuate her breasts, the skirt ending just a little above her knees, a white sash across her chest reading in fancy black script, ‘Bride-to-Be,’ and she looked fucking stunning.
His awe ended when he suddenly had to act fast and catch the woman he loved who flung herself into his arms—he grunted at her body slamming into him, her lips crashing into his, wrapping his arms around her back to feel her skin from the deep V down her back.
The smell of booze hit him almost as hard as she did, along with the undertones of her perfume, Javier tensing when she grabbed his ass. With how she was hitching her leg up on his waist, he thought she was trying to climb him like a goddamn tree.
“Mmm… hi, baby,” his muffled voice said.
His hand went to her face, his thumb under her chin, and fingers splayed along her cheek as he gently pushed to separate her mouth from his. Her eyelids were closed, and her lips pursed.
“Hi, baby,” he said again. “Did you miss me?”
She smiled. “Yesss.” Her glassy, bloodshot eyes blinked open, and it was obvious she was utterly blitzed; there was no way in hell she could pass a field sobriety test. “God, you’re sooo gorgeous—look at your cute nose—” She poked the tip of it. “—boop. Your eyes are sooo pretty, and you smell sooo good—you always smell so fucking good. I love you so, sooo much.” She pecked him on the lips. “I’m sooo happy you’re here.”
She looked so cute and it had him smiling.
“Yeah?” He shrugged off his jacket and put it over her shoulders.
“Mmm, tha’s nice and warm. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Cielito. You ready to go?”
“Oh my god, yesss!”
“Okay, let’s get you into the truck, hermosa (beautiful).”
He helped her get up into the cab, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, he was in the driver’s seat, with her pressed right against him.
“I’m sooo happy we’re going home,” she said, hugging his arm closest to her.
“I’m happy we’re going home, too, Cielito—let’s get you buckled.”
He leaned over her to grab the seatbelt, getting it over her lap and buckling it in, ensuring it wasn’t loose, before getting his own belt on.
The short drive to their apartment had her in his space, kissing his cheek and neck while telling him how much she loved him, and it was so sweet that warmth spread through his body.
When they arrived, Javier had to keep her steady as they walked with an arm around her waist, making her lean into him. Once inside, he propped her against the front door to remove his coat from her shoulders and her sash, hanging them with the other jackets on the wall. Then, he pulled her purse from her arm, putting it on the console table, and he helped her remove the flats on her feet, kicking off his shoes afterward.
Her eyes were closed most of the time while she mumbled, a lot of it he didn’t understand, but what he did make out was her confessing her love for him and waxing poetic about how attractive she found him—it was adorable.
He wanted to get her sober, so he helped steady her as they made their way to the kitchen, moving past the counters and appliances to the small connected dining room and having her sit in a kitchen chair, pushing her close to the table in order to keep her from falling onto the floor.
Javier’s palm rubbed circles into her back. “Cielito?”
Her head tilted up in his direction, looking at him with red, glossy eyes and a big, dreamy smile.
“You’re pretty.” Her speech wasn’t slurring as much. “And you’re marrying me. I can’t believe you’re marrying me. We should blow this popsicle stand and go back to our place to have premarital sex—gotta do as much of that as we can before we’re married and our sexy times become legal.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean by the sex becoming legal?” he asked.
“You know, sex is only legal to God when the couple is married—we won’t be living in sin anymore; gosh, that’s gonna make your dad sooo happy. I love your dad. He’s the fucking best. Let's make him your mom’s flan next weekend ‘cause that dude deserves it—man, I’m hungry.”
“We’ll make him flan, baby.” His hand cupped her cheek. “Can I make you some buttered toast?” That seemed like a safe choice and shouldn’t make her sick.
Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, toast sounds fucking amazing!”
He smiled. “Okay, mi amor. I’ll make you some.”
Javier bent to kiss the top of her head before padding into the kitchen.
Making her two slices of toast and having her eat them, along with drinking a large glass of water, didn’t take too long—there were a few times he had to remind her about the bread because she was so chatty; at one point she went on an entertaining tangent about how those mythical half horse, half human creatures, centaurs, would wear pants, and even made him tear off a page from the notepad on the fridge, so she could draw him visuals on why the correct answer was the pants would go on the back part of their horse body.
Jesus Christ, he was so fucking in love with her.
He felt better after she finished her snack and drink with how her speech sounded clearer and that she didn’t seem as fucked up as when she called him from the bar—she was definitely still a little drunk since she couldn’t walk without stumbling, and her eyes were having a hard time staying open.
His next priority was making her comfortable. He led her to the bedroom, where he carefully replaced her dress and bra with his olive green t-shirt, leaving her in the shirt and her cute cotton panties she already had on that were covered in red hearts.
He took her to the bathroom, where he sat her up on the countertop and stood between her legs to keep her in place.
“Cielito,” he said, grabbing a wet wipe, “I’m gonna clean off your makeup, okay?”
There was a big smile on her face, her eyelids shut. “Mmmkay, you’re sooo nice.”
He pressed it to her face to begin removing her makeup. When that was done, he used a warm washcloth to dampen the skin he’d cleaned and grabbed her face wash off the counter, which was amongst her other skincare products. He used his fingertips to apply it to her skin, starting with her cheeks, then down her jaw to her chin, and back up to spread it along her nose before doing her forehead last.
He used the wet cloth to wipe away the cleanser when she spoke.
“Did you just wash my face?” she asked.
“Yeah?” He’d finished, and her skin was finally completely clean and looking dewy. Her face wash was put away, and his eyes squinted as he read the labels of the other products until he found what he needed and picked it up. He’d seen her do her skincare routine more times than he could count and had the basics down; the serums and special creams intimidated him, though.
His fingers were massaging the moisturizer into her skin along the same path they’d taken with the cleanser.
“Is that moisturizer?”
“Yes.”
Her breath stuttered, her mouth turning into a frown, and he matched her look.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, leaning toward the sink when he was done to wash his hands. He then dried them with the towel on his other side hanging on the wall.
Her bottom lip was trembling, and it worried him.
“You love me,” she whispered.
“I do,” he said and kissed her forehead. “I love you so fucking much.” His hands rubbed over her bare thighs.
She opened her eyes, and they were welling up, glistening under the lights above.
“You love me,” she repeated.
He held her cheeks. “Yes, sweetheart, I love you—I love you more than anything.”
Her voice was so small. “Why doesn’t my family love me?” With tears rolling down her face, her question shattered his heart into a million pieces.
“Oh, Cielito, baby.” His tone was soft, and he wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her tight, her face going into the crook of his neck. “They’re assholes and they don’t deserve you.”
Her body started shaking with sobs, and it had his chest squeezing tight, his eyes getting watery, wishing with every cell of his being to make her feel better.
She was the strongest and bravest woman he knew, who didn’t like to show any sign of weakness, and ever since her parents’ unexpected and unwanted visit earlier in the week, she had acted like she was fine in an attempt to hide her sadness.
The day after he was offered a large sum of money to leave her, they’d gone over to his father’s to use the fax machine in his office—the office was in its own little building across the driveway from his house—and she faxed Jerry, her parents’ lawyer, a typed letter that conveyed her disappointment in how they acted and also told them to never contact her again which she signed at the bottom. She changed her home and cell phone numbers and discussed with him possibly moving to the ranch earlier than they originally planned.
He’d tried to talk to her about everything, but she’d put on this smile he knew wasn’t genuine by the lack of its usual luster, and she was unable to keep the sorrow from showing in her eyes—it killed him how her usual happy glow had dimmed from her hurt. She’d reassure him she was okay, reminding him that her family made their choice and had to live with the consequences of it, but she also had to live with the consequences of their actions and deal with the emotions of never seeing or speaking to her loved ones again. He was expecting the façade to break at some point, and it took inebriation to cause her carefully crafted walls to finally crumble.
To add salt to their wounds, Javier was served at work the following day after the fax was sent, with a lawsuit for breach of contract from her mom and dad.
What were they trying to sue him for? Going against his word to not tell their daughter about their visit and proposition, thus breaching a verbal contract that was made. He’d laughed as he called Chucho’s attorney because they never fucking agreed with his terms and, instead, had countered with the damn prenup. They didn’t have a fucking case, and it was dropped by the next day.
Javier was so unbelievably pissed off at these people for what they’d done to the woman he loved that he knew there was no way in hell he’d ever be able to have a civil conversation with them again. It was possible it’d turn into a physical altercation, and he’d end up in jail, which he honestly thought would be worth it if he got the chance to punch her dad in his stupid fucking face.
“They’re my family,” she choked out, “they’re supposed to love me—why don’t they love me? Why am I so unlovable?”
“Mi amor, you’re not unlovable—I love you, Pop loves you, my tías (aunts), tíos (uncles), and primos (cousins) love you, Robyn loves you, mi mamá loves you—you’re loved. We love you, baby. Those people you’re related to are shitty and so blinded by their obsession with money and how they’re perceived that they wouldn’t know what unconditional love was if it bit them in the ass. They’re horrible fucking people, and you don’t need them, Cielito. You don’t.”
“But they’re my family!” she cried. Her tears were soaking through his shirt. “It doesn’t feel right that they aren’t going to be at our wedding, and it hurts so fucking much that they don’t support us!”
He kissed her hair, rubbing circles on her back with his palm. “I know, cariño (sweetheart). I know you’re hurt and that it’s fucked they won’t be there.” It was hard for him to swallow around the lump that’d formed, his eyes burning, and he squeezed them shut. “I’m sorry you fell in love with me and that I’m not good enough for them or good enough for you. I’m sorry for causing all this shit and the pain you’re feeling. I’m sorry, baby—it’s all my fault,” his voice cracked on the last word. He had to clear his throat. “But I’d do it all again because you deserve to be loved—you deserve all the fucking love in the world. Your family is supposed to love you because they’re your family, and our kids will love you no matter what because you’re their amazing mom, but me? I’m choosing to love you with every fucking thing I have because you’re incredible and so lovable.” His cheeks were wet from his own tears. “I love you, Cielito—I promise I’ll love you enough to make up for them. I promise I’ll love you so much you’ll get sick of me. I love you, Cielito. You’re my everything, and I hope my love’s enough…”
She sniffled loudly, her head rising, and he opened his eyes to meet her reddened ones, her face streaked with wetness.
Her voice was hoarse. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her hands in the small space between their bodies, clutching his button-up shirt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, and you’re enough—you’ve always been enough. It just hurts how hateful the people who are supposed to want me to be happy are toward what makes me happy.” More tears fell down her cheeks. “You’re what makes me happy, and they don’t accept you.” Her lower lip was wobbling. “I’m mad and sad, and I don’t want them to be a part of our lives, but it feels… it feels like they’ve died,” she said quietly. “It feels weird grieving over people who are still breathing, who are just a phone call or a plane ride away. I’m grieving them like they’re dead—are they dead to me? Why am I grieving what little relationship we had, yet also grieving the relationship we could’ve had? One where they welcomed you with open arms, and even if it wasn’t your favorite thing to do, we visited them once a year—you’d joke around with my brother, we’d fawn over his many children, and my parents would actually be impressed with what you did in Colombia and brag to their friends about their son-in-law who helped take down Pablo fucking Escobar and did take out the Cali cartel. Why am I so fucking sad about living people and a fantasy?”
He stroked his fingers along her cheek to cup it. “I don’t remember much from my mother’s funeral ‘cause my head was pretty fucked up, but there was something the Priest said that stuck with me. ‘Grief is just all the love you had for someone that suddenly has nowhere to go.’ So, it collects inside you, makes your chest ache, and leaks from your eyes—it fills all the places that were left empty by their loss. I’ll always feel my mom here—” He put a hand over his heart. “—but over time, a lot of my grief slowly disappeared, and you’ve made it easier to live with what’s left.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t think what you’re feeling is weird. They might be alive, but you lost the only family you’ve ever known and are grieving the death of your relationship with them—now there’s all that love you still have for them that has no place to go, so it’s filling the emptiness they left behind, and it’s gonna take some time to heal.” He held her face in both of his hands. “It’s okay that you're sad, Cielito, but you don’t need to hide it from me or pretend that you’re okay because I know you’re not, and I don’t want you going through this alone. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on; I’ll hold you or talk things out with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help ease your pain. Just please don’t shut me out.”
She was frowning, her eyes darting away as she spoke softly, “I knew if you saw I was upset, it’d make you sad, and I didn’t wanna make you sad so close to our wedding—this should be a happy time for us, but all I wanna do is lay in the dark and cry.”
“Baby?” His finger went under her chin to make her look at him, their gazes meeting. “Don’t worry about my feelings, and let me be there for you—I’d rather be sad with you than have you suffer alone in silence. Now, let me get you to bed so I can hold you while you cry.”
Her smile was small, and her eyes were glossy with tears. “I’d like that.” Suddenly, she looked panicked, her hand going to her mouth. “Move,” said her muffled voice. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Shit.” He immediately helped her off the counter, for her to stumble the handful of steps and drop to her knees in front of the toilet, where she did, in fact, get sick.
It took a lot to gross out Javier—he grew up on a ranch, where he witnessed animal births and deaths regularly. Combine that with the horrible things he’d seen in Colombia, someone throwing up was a welcome change.
“Oh, mi probecita (my poor thing),” he said, spinning around to the wall opposite the bathroom vanity to get a small rag from the linen closet before moving back to the sink to wet it with cold water. “Déjame cuidarte, Cielito (Let me take care of you, Cielito). Sé que no te gusta enfermarte (I know you don’t like getting sick).”
She’d told him that when she had a little too much fun at a party playing drinking games with his primos (cousins) and found herself on his old bathroom floor, hugging porcelain with Javier there for support—they’d ended up being too drunk to drive home and spent the night in his childhood bed.
He wrung out the washcloth and walked over to her, a grunt leaving him and knees popping as he lowered himself to kneel next to her. He pressed the cloth to the back of her neck with one hand while the other rubbed comforting circles over her spine.
His tone was warm and gentle. “Get it all out, baby. I know it’s awful, and you hate it, but it’ll make you feel better.”
It didn’t take long for her stomach to empty and her heaving to stop. Her breaths were coming out ragged, and Javier took care of flushing the toilet. He scooted back and pulled her with him, the tiled floor cool underneath them, until he had room to stretch out his legs in front of him while she sat between them with her spine to his chest, her eyes closed.
He held the wet cloth to her forehead, the fingers of his free hand laced with hers, and kissed her hair.
“How are you feeling?” he whispered.
“I’m never drinking again,” she mumbled.
He huffed amusedly and smiled, placing a kiss behind her ear.
“Liar,” he said. “You said that last time you drank too much.”
“I mean it this time.”
“Uh-huh, right.”
“I do—this is embarrassing.”
“I think it’s good practice.”
He knew the look on her face was one of confusion without seeing it. “Practice for what?”
“If you get morning sickness.” He kissed the side of her neck.
“Oh, god,” she whined. “Why can’t we be seahorses?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Seahorses?”
“Yeah, male seahorses do the whole pregnancy and birth thing—that’s the fucking dream.”
He thought about it for a second, taking into account how badly he wanted kids, and it was really fucking weird to say this out loud, “If I could… I’d, uh, do that for us…”
He could hear her smiling. “You’d have my babies?”
Javier inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “...yes.”
“I know the scenario is weirding you out, and it’s sweet of you to say you would, but I’m not sure if, given the opportunity, you’d actually do it—which is fine. Pregnancy and childbirth are scary, and it just proves that mothers are more badass than fathers.”
“You’re definitely more badass than me.”
“I appreciate you saying that, man who literally hunted bad guys for a living and had a bounty on his head.”
“You are, and since you’re taking the brunt of everything for us to have a kid, I promise I’ll do whatever possible, so all you’ll have to worry about is growing our baby and working.” She’d made it clear that when she got pregnant, she was still going to work until either the baby was born or the Doctor told her to stop.
“You know, I think we’re gonna crush being married and becoming parents.”
He smiled. “We are because we’re equals, even if you’re more badass than me.”
“We are equals, and thank you for acknowledging my badassery, man who helped eliminate two of the biggest cartels in the world.”
He snorted. “Smartass. How are you feeling?”
“A little drunk, sad, and I’ve got the spins.”
“Do you still feel sick?”
“Not really—just dizzy.”
“Do you want me to help you brush your teeth and then get you comfortable in bed?”
“That actually sounds wonderful because my mouth feels icky, and I’d like to cuddle.”
“Okay, mi amor.”
He started to move, but she stopped him with her hand on his arm as she said, “Javi?”
“Yes, Cielito?”
“You’re worth it.”
“Worth what…?”
“The pain and sadness over my family. You bring me so much love and happiness that I know it’ll outshine the hurt in no time, and this low I’m in is only temporary. You’re worth it and more than enough—your love is all I need. I love you.”
His throat was feeling tight, and he spoke softly. “I love you, too.” His arms went around her middle, and he didn’t squeeze as he hugged her to not hurt her stomach. He still wanted to hold her, his chin resting on her shoulder and their heads touching. “I’m happy I’m worth it to you, and just know that I’m yours; I’m here for you—good, bad, it doesn’t fucking matter because I’m not going anywhere, and we’ll get through anything together.” His lips pressed to her hair. “I tell you I love you a lot, but I hope you understand that I love you more than words can accurately describe—I love you, Cielito. I love you, and I promise I’ll be yours forever.”
Her hand came up behind her to press her fingers into his hair. “Yeah, we’re gonna crush being husband and wife.”
She made him smile. “Less than seventy-two hours, Mrs. Peña.”
“And I can’t fucking wait, Mr. Peña.”
The town of Laredo was buzzing with the news Javier Peña was getting married—yes, the same Javier Peña who left his first bride at the altar, had tumbled in the hay with many of the girls he’d gone to school with, and was apparently some kind of lothario in South America.
It really bothered you how fucking interested and judgmental the townspeople were of his sex life.
Your wedding with him was all anyone could talk about, and the bar was even taking bets on whether or not he’d disappear again, which was fucked up, but Chucho gladly put five hundred dollars on his son marrying you because he knew it was easy money. There was so much interest in how things would turn out that people you either barely knew or had never met approached you both like they were old friends of Javi’s to try and get invites—they were politely rejected with the excuse there wasn’t enough room.
According to Robyn, your wedding had the same amount of hype as your fiancé’s first, and though Javi hated that, you really hoped it annoyed the fuck out of his ex.
When you discussed how you wanted to tie the knot, your husband-to-be agreed the ceremony should be attended by a select few, and afterward, there’d be a big party to celebrate with the rest of your friends and family. Once the date was decided, the planning started immediately since there was so little time.
Chucho and his sisters would make a killing as wedding planners. They sat you and Javi down to get an idea of what you wanted the party to be like, a color scheme, and a budget, then told you guys not to worry and that they’d take care of everything. All the two of you had to do was approve things, hand over cash, and get your rings, which wasn’t too much of a hassle since you wanted simple matching gold bands.
Something you loved about the family you were marrying into was how they were all there for each other and so tight-knit—your fiancé's dad and tías managed to get all that was needed in less than a month with the help of his primos, and by calling in favors from their friends.
Javier and you didn't want anything extravagant. The party would occur in Chucho's backyard, under a giant white pole tent. Tables, chairs, and a dance floor had to be rented, and it was highway robbery how much the local place wanted to charge—Lorraine’s family frequently used them for their events, and you wouldn’t put it past her father to be the cause of such an exorbitant price just to spite Javi for wasting the absurd amount of money he spent on Lorraine’s first wedding. Luckily, on such short notice, tía Lupita’s oldest son, Matías, had a friend who knew a guy an hour away in Zapata who ran a party rental store and could get them everything at a reasonable price.
The tías, along with their daughters/daughters in law were handling food; Anna, who was friends with Javi in high school, had a bakery and was taking care of making the cake and Mexican wedding cookies that were tiny, buttery, ball-shaped, melt-in-your-mouth, powdered sugar-covered cookies, dotted with crushed nuts like pecans, walnuts, and almonds, and traditionally served at weddings and Christmas; tío Ángel and tía María’s husband were in charge of getting alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, and Ángel’s youngest son Diego was going to DJ, as it was his side hustle and he’d been paid to do gigs at other parties in town and in a couple of big city clubs.
An hour and a half before you were to be wed, practically every family member of Javi's who lived locally was at the ranch. Many had been there all day setting up the backyard or in the kitchen making food, and every time you tried to help cook, you were shooed away, but your presence was wanted outside to instruct those putting things together on how to arrange and decorate everything inside and out of the tent, and that ended up being what you did until it was time to start getting ready.
Most of Javier’s family and you were there, yet your groom was nowhere to be found and hadn’t set foot on the property in a good sixteen hours.
In that time, you hadn’t seen or talked to him either, and your last interaction was the previous night when he dropped you off at his dad’s—that’s where you spent the night, and thank goodness, Chucho had already gone to sleep when Javi helped you get settled in his old room, because he had a hard time leaving and it led to him fucking you slow and passionately in his ridiculously squeaky bed one last time.
Why were you staying at the ranch? The two of you, encouraged by Javi’s dad, made the decision not to see each other on the day of your nuptials. Since your almost father-in-law would be driving you to where the ceremony was taking place, it made sense for you to sleepover and get ready at his house—the moment Javi left you there in his room that smelled like him, under his sheets that smelled like him, in one of his white t-shirts that smelled like him, you realized it was going to be really difficult and a test of your strength to be away from him for so long, and you both knew, if you spoke even a single word over the phone, the resolve between you would shatter, and he’d be back at Chucho’s for you in record time.
That led to the lack of communication and him getting ready alone at your shared apartment.
You were sitting in a kitchen chair you’d brought into Javi’s old bathroom, wearing a white satin robe cinched tight over your clean body, fresh from the shower and the special undergarments you'd chosen for the big day. Robyn was in front of you in her matching black robe as she did your makeup, something she offered to do and you happily accepted due to how good she was at it. She'd already smoothed out your complexion and hid any imperfections; currently, she was working on your eye shadow.
"Between you and Javi," she said, her attention focused on what she was doing, "your kids are gonna have some pretty eyes."
You smiled. "I think his eyes are prettier, and just imagine tiny versions of them; they'll give me the sad puppy dog eyes, and I'll have no choice but to give them whatever they want."
She giggled. "Your babies will be spoiled."
"I have already accepted that fact—hopefully, they'll take after their dad and be spoiled, but sweet, caring, and well-behaved, and not some little assholes." You frowned. "My brother was a spoiled asshole."
She paused what she was doing to meet your eyes. "Hey, now, we agreed not to think or speak about those people today. We aren't lettin' them sour the best day of your life so far."
"I know," you sighed.
It was the right choice to sever your ties with your family, and you had no regrets; that didn't mean it wasn't hard or hurt any less. Especially today, with it being your wedding day—your mom wasn’t there to help you get ready, nor your dad for a father-daughter dance. They should’ve been there supporting you on the happiest day of your life. Instead, they destroyed whatever relationship you had with them, and it hurt a lot. Even suspecting for years that they had no love for you didn't ease much of the pain of discovering it was true. You felt stupid for caring about these people when they cared so little for you, and you weren't sure why you hadn't cut them out sooner. Was it naively thinking they'd change? Or the ingrained notion that even if you didn't like them, you had to suck it up because they were your family?
It didn't matter now because what they'd done and how they treated the man you loved was unforgivable. There was no chance in hell you’d ever trust them again, and you didn’t want the new life you were starting with Javi to be tainted by their toxicity.
Robyn's cell phone was sitting on the bathroom counter next to your open makeup bag, and it started ringing—nobody wanted to bother you while you got ready, so Robyn was made the point of contact to either deal with what was going on or talk it out with you.
She straightened and turned around to pick it up.
"Why's he callin’?" she mumbled, hitting the accept button and putting the phone to her ear. "What's shakin' bacon? Robyn speakin,’" she answered. "...yes," she told them, "I'm doin' her makeup right now... No... No, you can't... Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? No one is supposed to see her before the wedding... You're a fuckin' liar, and Chucho wouldn’t let you in here anyway... You're ridiculous," she said in exasperation. "But if you swear, on your mama's grave, you won't peek, then I'll allow it... Okay, fine. Give us a sec, then quietly knock—I don't want anyone knowin' you’re here... bye."
She set the phone down and the eyeshadow palette, spinning on her heel to face you and grab your hand.
"Was that who I think it was?" you asked.
She was smiling. "If you’re thinkin’ someone annoyin’ who could get me in more trouble than an armadillo on the highway with your father-in-law, yes—come with me."
Robyn tugged you up to stand and led you into the bedroom, where you both came to a stop.
There were two large windows on the opposite wall beside each side of the bed, sitting half a foot above the floor with closed blinds and red curtains over them. A soft knocking sounded on the one in front of you. You followed Robyn and watched her push apart the curtains, pulling on the string to raise the blinds. Her body blocked your view as she unlocked the window and shoved it up.
"How many fingers am I holdin' up?" she asked the person outside.
"I don't know," Javi answered. "I can't see shit with this thing on."
The sound of his voice had your heart beating faster.
"Good," Robyn said, moving out of your way to look at you.
With the window's position, you could only see your fiancé from the thighs up, wearing black tuxedo pants and a white long-sleeved dress shirt tucked into them. Your sleep mask covered his eyes, and there was a loose regular tie and bow tie around his neck that matched the color of his slacks, the ends of each resting over both sides of his chest. Aside from his perfectly trimmed mustache, his face was freshly shaved, and he looked unbelievably handsome as always.
"This annoyin' man—" Robyn pointed at him with her thumb. "—says it's an emergency—he needs you to tell him how you want his hair done and which tie you’d like."
It made you smile because his hair was already how you wanted it—you had given him a haircut a couple of days ago, so the sides looked nice and clean cut down, and he combed the longer top and bangs to swoop over to the other side of his head, holding it all in place with his favorite pomade, that kept his hair soft.
He also knew damn well which tie you’d chosen.
It had you feeling gooey that he couldn't wait any longer to see you.
You walked toward him, and Robyn made herself scarce by disappearing into the bathroom. At the window, you got down on your knees to make it easier to talk to him, Javier still standing above you with his height.
"An emergency, huh?" you asked, and he smiled. Taking his outstretched hand, you guided him closer.
“Are we alone?" he countered
His palms began mapping your body, sliding over your arms and shoulders and along your neck up to your head, where he avoided your face but carefully felt your ears and hair.
"Yep."
“You feel beautiful.”
Air huffed from your nose in amusement. “Well, you look handsome, even without being fully dressed.” You rubbed your hands up his thighs to rest them on his tiny hips. “Your hair looks perfect,” you continued. “Did you really forget which tie I wanted?”
He smirked. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was the only way I knew I could get Robyn to betray Pop’s orders and let me see you; well, talk to you.”
Your eyebrows creased. “Orders? What orders?”
“He might’ve made it sound like a suggestion, the whole us not seeing each other today, but Pop is super fucking superstitious like mi mamá was—he doesn’t think he is—believe me, he is, and it made him feel better we agreed to do it. So, he has everyone out here on strict orders to keep us apart, including Robyn. One of my tíos is sitting at the end of the kitchen table right now so he can watch the front and back door; another is on the living room couch to stay close to my room in case he’s gotta intercept me. You’re being guarded like a fucking high-security witness with a hit out on them. I had to park my truck down the road and have Seb hide me in the trunk of his Bronco to get here without anyone seeing.”
“That is insane.”
He sighed. “At least Pop kinda gave us a choice; my mom wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t have let us take any risk of getting bad luck because I saw you.”
“It’s sweet and extremely intense.”
“Yeah, and I can’t see you, so we’re good.”
You smiled. “Gotta love loopholes.”
He was smiling, too. “Yeah. I missed you so much. I just needed to touch you and talk to you.” He grabbed your hands off his waist, stroking his thumbs over the back of them. “I couldn’t sleep last night without you—even when I tried sleeping on your side.”
“Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep either, and I missed you, too. I’m happy you’re here so we can talk. I’ve got butterflies in my tummy, and I can’t tell if they’re nerves or excitement.”
“Maybe both?”
“Could be. Don’t know what I have to be nervous about.”
“I’m nervous about having to say my sappy bullshit in front of other people and have it recorded.”
“That’s actually a good point—if we leave now, we can make it to the courthouse before it closes and skip all of that.”
He huffed out a breath. “It’s too late for that, mi amor. Pop’s excited about being a part of the ceremony and getting to walk you to me.”
There wouldn’t be an aisle per se, just a small trail of rose petals leading you to where Javi would be standing in front of the tree. Chucho cried happy tears when you asked him to give you away.
When your soon-to-be father-in-law heard about your parents' impromptu visit, you’d never seen him so angry—his face had gone red, and he went off in Spanish about what terrible people they were. He was so mad he repeatedly tried to get you to give him their phone number so he could tell them himself how lowly he thought of them and that they were awful parents; he wanted them to know that their loss was his gain and you were his daughter now; you would finally be loved and cherished by a proud parent and that it was God’s will you came into his and his son’s lives. He also needed them to be aware that their pride and greed had turned them villainous, and he’d be praying that they someday realized the error of their ways and saw you for the blessing you were.
His anger toward those who wronged you was fueled by a protective father’s love for their child, and it made you incredibly emotional that after so many years without one, you had a parent who loved you unconditionally, wanted nothing more than your happiness, and would selflessly fight battles for you.
Chucho was the best dad you’d ever had, and you were happy that in less than two hours, you’d share a last name with him, too.
“Ugh, you’re right,” you said, “Pop deserves his moment. Hey, babe?”
“Yes, mi amor?”
“When you’re saying your sappy bullshit, focus on me. It'll just be the two of us in that moment, no one else, and believe me when I say all of my tears will be happy.”
His smile was brighter than the sun. He lifted your hand to kiss each of your knuckles, saying when he finished. “All of my tears will be happy, too, and you do the same thing—it’s just us, nobody else. Will you, uh, tie my bow tie?”
His question had you smiling. “I’d love to.”
He pulled off the regular tie and stuffed it into his pocket, bending his knees and crouching with a grunt to put his neck within reach. You took the ends of the bow tie, your attention focused on what you were doing.
"This is why you had me learn how to tie a bow tie, huh?" You started going through the steps—ensuring one end was longer than the other, then crossing it over the shorter end, bringing it up from under the loop and through it.
"Yes."
The bow tie had taken shape, and you were almost done.
"What was your plan if Robyn didn't let you see me?"
"I would've called you and gotten you to sneak away."
You finished tying it, and it wasn't perfect, but it didn't look too bad.
"And I would've with zero hesitation," you said, patting the bow tie. "You look so good." You leaned out to peck him on the cheek.
"Not as good as you."
You huffed out air. "Obviously, you can't see me because only half of my makeup is done—there's literally eyeshadow on only one side. I look like a mess."
Your hands were on his shoulders, and he rubbed his hands back and forth on your arms.
"A beautiful mess."
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm in love."
"I'm in love, too—madly, as a matter of fact. Oh, your dad took me out for breakfast this morning in the Mustang. He filled up the tank on our way home, and when we got back before everyone came over, he polished it, so I think it’s safe to assume you’re gonna get to drive it at some point in the next twenty-four hours—you can’t see, but I’m wagging my eyebrows.” You were.
His lips pouted, and his hands remained still. “Who drove to and from the diner?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I just wanna know.”
“But why does it matter?”
“You’re deflecting.”
“No, I’m just curious why you need to know who drove.”
His shoulders slumped. “I think I have my answer—how many times has he let you drive it now? Was that four or five?”
“Six. He let me drive with him in the passenger seat and Robyn in the back when we went wedding dress shopping.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you get weird like you are now that he lets me drive it—I can’t help that he thinks my cooking is Mustang-driving-worthy.”
“But you didn’t make him anything when you went wedding dress shopping…”
“No, but he was so touched I wanted him there to help me pick out a dress, he thought the special occasion warranted me getting to drive.”
“He didn’t let me drive the Mustang when we went to find a tux…” he grumbled.
“I’m sorry to break it to you, babe, but my wedding dress I bought and am going to save in case our future daughter wants to wear it one day is a little more special than your rented tux that has been worn many times before you by strangers. Now, stop being jealous, and get excited that you’re finally going to drive it, and unlike me, you’ll be allowed to drive it wherever the fuck you want, so there, you have one up on me.”
He seemed to be thinking long and hard about that last bit.
“That is better…”
“It sure is. Lean in and kiss me. It’ll make you less grumpy.”
“As much as I’m dying to kiss you right now, I, um, wanna wait, so it’s kinda special…”
“I respect that and understand what you mean. Javi?”
“Yes, Cielito?”
“I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married today, and I hope you like my dress.”
He smiled brightly. “I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married, too. I’m gonna love your dress.”
“I hope so.”
“Baby, you could show up in a paper bag, and I’d be blown away.”
“The bar is so low. Do you wanna feel what I’ll be wearing under the dress?”
The pink of his tongue quickly peeked between his lips, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
His timbre deepened. “Yes.”
You poked your head out the window to ensure no one was around, then loosened the belt, holding your robe shut. Taking his hand, you started at your shoulder beneath the silk, letting his fingertips graze over the bare skin, trailing them down to the lacy cup of your strapless bra. He couldn’t help himself and palmed your covered breast before you moved his hand once more to continue the journey downward, where he got to feel the smooth, stretchy material hugging your middle; you let his fingers find that the spandex covering the warmth between your thighs, too.
“Not very sexy,” you said. “Well, the bra is cute. The rest is so I don’t look lumpy in the dress or have panty lines.”
He was about to say something, but you spoke before he had a chance. “Yes, Javier, I know you love my natural body, including the bits I don’t, but I wanna look my very best, and that means Spanx.”
He was frowning. “Are they uncomfortable?”
It warmed your heart that he was concerned for your comfort.
"Not really," you answered truthfully. "They're like my bicycle shorts, so stretchy and breathable. Will it make you feel better to know I have sexier bottoms I'm gonna wear when I change into my comfier dress after food and our first dance?"
He didn't know what your wedding dress looked like, but he had seen the one you were changing into after it.
His free hand went to the window frame, feeling along it until he found where the opened window stopped and ducked his head under it. His face was close to yours, one of his palms still between your legs, the other carefully sliding up the edge of your open robe.
"I'd prefer you wear no panties," he rasped, pulling the silk off your shoulder. His mouth pressed to the newly revealed skin, the soft kiss of his lips and tickle of his mustache, paired with his hand on your pussy beginning to rub, had sparks dancing down your spine. "It's gonna make me hard," his words were muffled between kisses as he moved across your shoulder toward your neck, "seeing you in your wedding dress.” Your fingers went into the hair at the back of his head, his spare hand palming your breast. “I'm gonna lose my fucking mind hearing you say 'I do.'" He was kissing and nibbling at your throat now, the added friction of his palm at the crux of your thighs making it hard to think. "It's gonna drive me fucking crazy that you're my wife—my wife,” he repeated against your throat. “And I’ll be your husband—I already want you, but all I’ll be able to think about after we’re pronounced husband and wife is getting you alone, and if you’re not wearing panties, it’ll make it easier for me to lift up that pretty—“
“No, Javier!” Robyn interrupted, and you felt cold water mist against your bare skin, the spray bottle hissing near your ear. “Bad!”
“Fuck!” he yelped, his head narrowly missing the bottom of the raised window as he pushed back from you so fast you’d think he was burned. His expression had turned grumpy as he stood. “What the fuck was that for?”
“I promised your daddy I wouldn’t let you see her,” she said, looking mad. “But out of the kindness of my heart—” She pressed a hand to the left side of her chest. “—I went against my word to your father, and how do you repay me? By wastin’ time gettin’ fresh with your fiancée when I’m riskin’ your daddy bein’ madder than a box of frogs at me for not doin’ what I said I’d do—you’re bein’ real rude Javier Peña, exploitin’ my niceness and I’d appreciate you sayin’ your goodbyes, and bein’ on your way.”
His eyes were covered, but it was visible how his face shifted from grumpy to guilty.
“I’m sorry, Robyn,” he said.
“Apology accepted. Say goodbye, and then we gotta get back to work.”
“Okay,” he replied.
The other woman headed back to the en suite. Leaning forward, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to step toward you.
“Thank you for coming to see me or, you know, talk to me,” you told him.
He smiled, squeezing your palm. “There was zero chance of me waiting to talk to you until the wedding. I love you too much.”
“I’m happy you did, and I love you, too.”
He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
“I know you will, and I’ll be there.”
Javi sighed. “I better go. Bye, Cielito,” he said and didn’t move.
“You’re gonna see me in a little bit—get going, babe.”
He sighed again. “Fine. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
This time, he quickly pecked the back of your hand and started quietly walking along the front of the house. You assumed he had taken off the sleep mask to sneak away.
You closed and locked the window, shutting the blinds and curtains, feeling happy that you'd be seeing him again soon.
It took some time to finish getting ready, as you wanted to look perfect. Robyn did a fantastic job on your makeup, and your hair turned out well. When you saw yourself all dolled up and wearing your dress, you almost couldn't believe it was your reflection staring back at you in the mirror.
The white, silky satin hugged your curves as it cascaded to the ground to pool around your feet, the fabric having some stretch to it so your movements weren’t hindered. The neckline dipped in a slight V, your upper back bare from under your armpits up, and thin straps went over your shoulders connecting the two sides.
With how the satin draped over your figure, perfectly fitting the contours of your body, then flared out below your knees, it had a Morticia Addams feel to it—change the color of it to black, add sleeves, and you’d find it in her closet.
Javi was right. You looked so amazing that he was absolutely going to get a boner when he saw you.
And wasn't that just the sweetest thing?
A man so in love with you he gets aroused even when you're fully clothed because he thinks you're that pretty. He was also the kind of guy who sometimes got too excited from a kiss, and you had to wait a little while in the car for him to calm down…
"What do you think?" Robyn asked beside you. She'd put on her dress—a lavender-colored, A-line, floor-length gown with ruffled short sleeves and a V-neckline that, as an added bonus, had pockets.
You met her eyes in the mirror. "That I've never looked more beautiful—if you ever wanted to get out of nursing, you'd be a fantastic makeup artist."
She smiled, her full lips painted in rose-pink lipstick. "Thank you, but I prefer doin' it as a hobby and bein' able to help my friends out."
"Well, thank you for making me look insanely pretty."
"All I did was enhance what was already there, girl—Javi's gonna lose it."
"I hope he does."
A knock sounded from the bedroom door, and without a word, your friend went to see who it was.
"Is it okay for Chucho to see you?" Robyn called from the other room.
"Yes!" you answered, and nerves started fluttering in your belly over what he'd think.
Within seconds, your father-in-law was standing in the doorway, where you faced him with a grin.
"Dios mío (My God)," he gasped, his hand going to his mouth, “eres tan hermosa (you’re so beautiful)!” His dark eyes behind his glasses started to shine.
He was wearing light grey slacks, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a tie in the same shade as Robyn’s dress resting against his chest from a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, his camera dangling from a strap around his neck; as usual, his long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.
“Ese vestido es perfecto (That dress is perfect)!” he said. “Estoy tan feliz de que lo hayas elegido porque te ves increíble (I’m so happy you chose it because you look amazing). Javi se va a volver loco (Javi is going to go crazy)."
"You really think so?" you asked, looking down at your outfit.
"Oh, yes." He nodded. "He's not going to leave you alone. We'll have to get a crowbar to pry him away from you."
You giggled, looking at him. "Yeah, I have a feeling he's gonna be stuck to me all night."
"When isn't he?"
The question made you laugh. "Touché."
"I wasn't sure if you'd want to," the older man started, "but I went through mi amor's jewelry to see if there was anything I thought you might want to wear—it could be your something old—” You hadn’t figured out what to do for something old; your something new was the perfume Javi got you for Christmas that you saved for today so he’d have a scent memory. Something borrowed was Chucho’s land, where your ceremony and party would take place, and something blue was a garter from Robyn around your thigh under your dress. “—and I found this necklace,” he said.
That's when you realized he was holding a large, thin, black leather box in his other hand.
Chucho walked closer to you, holding it in a palm, while the other lifted the hinged top—the necklace was made up of many silver waves connected together, purple sapphires resting in each dip, that you counted seventeen in total. It was stunning, the metal and precious gemstones glimmering beneath the lighting.
"I gave this to mi Antonia on our twentieth anniversary," he told you. "We'd visit her family in Mexico two, three times a year, and always for Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). On one visit, she saw this necklace and fell in love with it—it's Taxco silver and known for its high quality; many pieces made with it are crafted by hand and marked, so you know it's real. She wouldn't let me buy it for her because she thought it was too expensive for something she’d hardly wear, but the way she looked at it, I had to get it for her anyway, so I did and surprised her with it on our anniversary; she yelled at me," he chuckled, smiling. "Then had me put it on her and covered my face in kisses." He sighed fondly. "I think if she were here today, this is what she would've chosen for you, too—if you don’t like it, we can go upstairs for you to pick something else out..."
"No, Pop," you said quickly, meeting his gaze. There was a lump in your throat at the thought he'd put into finding you this piece of jewelry. "It's perfect, and I'd love to wear it. Can you help me put it on, please?"
"Yes, Mija." He set the open box on the bathroom counter and picked up the necklace with the same care as you would a newborn. Turning so your back was to him, he had an end in each hand as his arm went over your head to get the silver and sapphires around the front of your neck, clasping it at the back. He stepped away, and you faced him again.
There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were soft. "Mi hija hermosa (My beautiful daughter).” The sentence had your breath hitching. “¿Ella es preciosa, no (She is gorgeous, right)?" he asked Robyn. She understood Spanish but had a hard time speaking it.
The other woman was beside him, grinning. "She sure is," she agreed. "A real stunner."
"I'm so happy this day has finally come." Tears were brimming on his eyelids, and he took off his glasses to wipe them away. "I just wish mi amor was here to see our son marry such a wonderful woman."
Your eyes were burning as you held back from crying. He'd put his eyeglasses back on, and you stepped forward to hug him, being careful of your makeup. His arms went around you, squeezing you back.
"I wish she was here, too," you said. "At least we've got you, the best dad in the whole world. I love you, Pop."
"I love you, too, Mija. Thank you for loving my son and making him the happiest I've ever seen. We're blessed to have you in our lives, and I can't tell you how much joy I feel that you've decided to take our last name; I think it suits you better."
"I think it suits me better, too."
“You’re gonna kill the grass if you keep walking back and forth like that,” the other man told him.
They were at the oak tree on the hill, and the sun was getting close to setting. Javier had his whole outfit on: a black tuxedo and bow tie, white shirt, and lavender pocket square—he’d borrowed a pair of his father’s golden cufflinks, and one of his mother’s violet roses was pinned to his lapel. He didn’t have a cigarette to calm his nerves, so he was pacing, but the comment had him stopping with a sigh.
"Are you wearing a hole in the ground 'cause you're being impatient?" Steve continued. "Or are you nervous?"
His gaze went to his best friend, who was standing in front of him holding a small, white, heart-shaped pillow adorned in lace that went around the edges—there were two golden rings, one bigger than the other, secured to the top of it by a satin ribbon tied into a bow. The older man was dressed in a charcoal-colored suit he regularly wore to work, with a new tie provided by Javier that matched his lavender pocket square. Nate was in a carrier on his back; the parents put the one-year-old in a onesie that made him look like he was wearing a tuxedo and some dark pants, the child happily chewing on a football-shaped teething toy.
His hands went to his hips as he frowned. “Both?” Javier answered. “I can’t wait to see her, and I’m nervous about saying shi-stuff—“ He quickly corrected himself with the children present. “—I usually save for when we’re alone.”
Steve was giving him a weird look. “My kids are here. This ‘stuff’ is appropriate for them to hear, right…? It’s not anything… lewd…?”
Javier’s eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not anything like that, you judgemental pri-prude.”
The blonde man’s free hand went up in a placating gesture. “Hey, you said you save it for when you’re alone, and y’all have stayed at our house—any time the two of you were alone, you… folded laundry.”
“Folded laundry…?”
“Javi,” Connie said to get his attention, and he looked over to where she was fussing with the purple bow in Olivia’s hair. “You know when there’s a big load of laundry that requires two adults to fold, and they have to lock the bedroom door so there aren’t any distractions.”
Oh, ‘folding laundry’ was their code word for sex—that was smart.
“Mom and Dad have been folding a lot of laundry together lately,” Olivia added with a quizzical expression. “I didn’t know it was so hard to do alone—the baskets don’t seem that big.”
Javier smiled, his head turning from one parent to the other, seeing they were avoiding his eyes and blushing—good for them, fucking regularly.
“It’s more satisfying to do laundry with someone, so it gets done quicker,” he said.
“Doesn’t seem to get done quicker,” she replied.
Steve cleared his throat before he spoke. “Anyways, enough about laundry—what are you planning to say that’s got you nervous, Jav?”
He stopped smiling and scratched his mustache. “Uh, like, lovey-dovey, romantic crap…”
His best friend’s smile grew into a shit-eating grin. “What, like, super cheesy stuff? Are you gonna read the poetry you wrote about her eyes in your diary or something?”
Javier ground his teeth.
"Leave him alone, Steve," Connie said. "In our wedding video, before I walked down the aisle, you were clearly figuring out where all of the nearest exits were in the church. It’s refreshing and sweet that Javi’s gonna be vulnerable in front of everyone for the woman he loves.”
"I was checking where the exits were in case of a fire!" Steve rebuked. "All those candles they lit made me nervous."
"If that's what you tell yourself." She didn’t sound convinced.
“I was! Why did we need to be here forty-five minutes early?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “I was really enjoying the food your aunties were feeding us back at the house.”
There wasn’t a chance for Javier to respond; the answer to the question was he wanted to show how eager he was to marry the woman he actually loved and avoid any chance of being late—it also was a ‘fuck you’ to the people betting against him at the bar.
"Tío, tío!" The three-year-old Stevie shouted, running up to him; he was holding a Ninja Turtle action figure he'd been playing with in the grass.
Javier smiled, his attention moving to the child, crouching to be at his level. "Yes, mi principito (my little prince)?"
"We match!" His tiny finger pointed at his little light purple bow tie over his white dress shirt. The kid refused to wear a regular tie like his dad, and the only way they got him to agree to the clip-on bow tie was by telling him Javier had one, too.
His friends weren't by any means struggling with money, but Javier and his wif-fiancée, sent them a check to pay for their trip to Texas, which included flights, lodging, a rental car, and clothes for the wedding since they wanted those at the ceremony to match—Olivia got a new dress and so did her mom in the shade of lavender everyone else was wearing.
The family had gotten into town the day before. Cielito and Javier had shown them around town and taken them out to the ranch where Chucho and Connie finally got to meet in person—there was a lot of hugging—and that evening, they all, including his father, went out to dinner. Today, he’d spent more time with his friends before they all needed to get ready, then they followed him out to the ranch to distract Chucho while Javier covertly went to see, or, well, talk to his bride-to-be—the sleep mask was Connie’s idea, and she thought them sneakily meeting without anyone knowing was incredibly romantic.
"We do, bud,” he said. “You look so cool." He gently patted the child's arm.
Stevie was grinning. "I'm gonna walk from Mommy to Daddy and give him the rings?"
The hill they were on wasn’t too steep; Olivia was fine with walking up it from the bottom—she was excited to do it. For her younger brother, it was too much for him, so Connie was going to stand with Stevie a little before the land evened out at the top to signal when it was time for him to walk to his father.
"Yes," he nodded. "You'll walk while holding the pillow with the rings and hand it to your dad."
"It's a special job?"
"It's very special."
"Sissy's gonna throw flowers?"
"Yes, flower petals."
"It's a special job, too?"
"It is. They’re both important. Thank you for helping me, mi principito (my little prince).” He ruffled the child’s dirty blonde hair, making Stevie laugh.
Javier’s primos, Sebastián, and his tía Rebeca's daughter, Angelita, were taking care of the videography and photography, respectively. Seb had the video camera Javier bought, and Angelita had her own gear since she was a professional photographer—when you had fourteen cousins on just your father’s side, the odds were in your favor, one of them could either help with what you needed or knew somebody who could.
Photos were taken of Javier with the Murphys when they all first got there, and then his primos told everyone to pretend they weren’t there while they got candids and views of the scenery—his cousins arrived together in Sebastián’s SUV.
“Hey, Javi?” Seb said as he walked toward him.
"I gotta talk to him, buddy," Javier told Stevie. "I'll be back." He rose up with a groan, taking a few steps to reach his primo. "Yeah?" he answered.
When camcorders first came out, they were big and had to be rested on the operator’s shoulder, but the one Seb was using, he held in one of his hands with the side pulled open to see the little screen that previewed what was being recorded. The younger man hit a button on the video camera to pause what he’d been doing. “Do you want me to interview people?” Seb asked. “Ask how they like the wedding, if they have any advice, that kinda stuff.”
"Uh." He thought about it and Cielito would probably enjoy that. "Sure.”
"Perfecto (Perfect)." Seb nodded, hitting the button to record again.
Javier immediately regretted his decision when the camera was put in his face.
“It’s your big day, primo,” Seb said. “How are you feeling?”
“Um, excited and nervous.”
“The audience would like to hear how you met your bride.”
Javier smiled, heat rising on his cheeks. “At the grocery store, in the produce department—I guess it was obvious I was struggling to pick out a tomato, and she came to my rescue and showed me what to look for.”
“What was your first impression of her?”
He scratched at the back of his neck while looking away. “Uh, that she was sweet for helping me out, and beautiful. I could tell she had a good, kind heart and—” he lowered his voice so the children wouldn’t hear him. “—no fuckin’ clue who I was.” He chuckled. “I was hooked from that first conversation; an instant connection—there was something about her that told me she was going to be someone important to me, and I’d never felt that with anyone else.”
“What’d you do for your first date?”
His immediate thought was what happened after the bar, and his face felt hot. “We, uh, went out for drinks.”
“When did you know you loved her?”
He looked at the camera. “Honestly? Our third date. We were dancing in her kitchen to “¿Y cómo es él?”—”
“Mi mamá loves that song,” Seb said.
Javier huffed, smiling. “All my tías do. So, uh, we were dancing in her kitchen, and I realized she was the woman I was going to marry. I could see us having a future and was picturing what our Sunday mornings would look like—which, they’re exactly how I imagined—yeah, I knew I loved her on the third date and that we were going to get married one day.” He cleared his throat. “When my dad tells the story of the first time he saw my mother, he says his gut told him she was the one, and I always thought he was talking out of his—ass,” he whispered. “But it’s real and crazy to know deep down inside that you’ve found the person who completes you—feeling that confirmed she was it and that I truly did love her.”
“I think I know the feeling you’re talking about, and it’s great.”
“It is, and at your wedding, I’m gonna grill you on camera about it.”
“Hey, your wife is gonna eat this up, and you both want kids; think about your hijos (children) watching this one day and seeing how much you love their mom on your wedding day.”
The thought of sitting on the couch surrounded by his wife and kids, watching this wedding video, made him soften to the point he was putty—he wanted it to be a reality one day.
“What’s something you want to say to the bride before you get married?” Seb asked.
“I love you, and today is the best day of my entire fucking life—”
“—Eso es un dólar en la jarra, tío (That’s a dollar in the jar, uncle).” Olivia interrupted.
She meant the swear jar.
Javier sighed. “Lo siento, mi tesorito (I’m sorry, my little treasure). As I was saying, mi Cielito, I love you, and today is the best day of my entire freaking life. Happy isn’t enough to describe how I feel about us starting this new chapter of being husband and wife, and I’m looking forward to our future full of love, happiness, and hopefully, a lot of kids.” He smiled big. “I love you more than anything, and I will tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).” To end the sentence, he blew a kiss at the camera lens.
In order to get to where Javi was, it involved Chucho driving you off-road, and the trip was bumpy; you sat in the passenger seat, and Robyn was in the backseat, and because your father-in-law was probably as nervous as you were about speaking in front of people, he held your hand the entire way.
The previous day, when you brought the Murphys out to the ranch, you’d taken them to where you were going to be wed to do a quick rehearsal on how things would go; Olivia was beyond ecstatic to be a flower girl, and Stevie didn’t really understand what was going on, except that his tío Javi had an important job for him.
Chucho pulled up and parked at the base of the hill with your door opposite it so you couldn’t get a closer look at everyone atop it. The butterflies in your belly were flapping around so hard you thought they might get out, while your mind was racing with what could go wrong like you falling—that was a reason you wore flats, but with how much of your dress touched the ground, there was a chance of it tripping you up. Or what if Javi’s handsomeness made your brain stop working, and you couldn’t speak a single coherent word? Something that has happened before. God, your heart was pounding, and you thought you might be having a minor panic attack due to your vision starting to tunnel—a small silver flask was held up in front of your face, the cap already twisted off.
“Take a drink, Mija,” Chucho’s soothing voice said. “It’ll calm you down.”
The man was a lifesaver.
You grabbed it, taking a big swig, and your face pinched as the whiskey burned down your throat—from the taste and smoothness, you recognized it as Javi’s favorite, which was top shelf, a little spendy, and probably came from the bottle your fiancé gifted his dad to thank him for his help in getting you to give the green light to start your family.
The effect the alcohol had on you was almost immediate, feeling all of the tense muscles in your body relax at the same time. Your father-in-law took the flask from you and knocked it back with a drink of his own.
“Robyn?” he asked when he finished, holding it up for her to reach.
“Don’t mind if I do,” she replied, accepting it from him to take a gulp.
“I couldn’t see Antonia before our wedding,” he said, his head turned your way, “or talk to her. We were kept apart at the church, and I was so nervous that I was shaking like a leaf.” He chuckled. “Not about getting married, but having to stand in front of so many people. It had to be minutes before I needed to go out with the priest that mi amor’s maid of honor, her best friend, found me to give me an opened bottle of tequila and a note written by Antonia that read, ‘Mi amor, un trago para el coraje (My love, a drink for courage). Yo también necesitaba uno (I needed one, too).’ And she left a lipstick stamp of her lips at the bottom, where she kissed the paper. I won’t deny it. I kissed where her lips had been and took two shots.”
The story made you smile.
Chucho had put on a jacket that matched his light grey pants, and you watched as he pulled something from the inside pocket. It was a small folded piece of paper that’d been ripped from the notepad he kept by the answering machine at his house to write down messages. He passed it over to you, and you unfolded it, finding Javi’s scratchy handwriting. You read what he wrote:
Cielito,
You said you were never drinking again, but I think this can be an exception since you’re probably freaking the fuck out about embarrassing yourself like I am. I’m worried I’ll see how beautiful you are and forget how to talk, or my brain will stop working.
Have a drink to calm your nerves, and know it will all be okay because we’re doing this together.
I love you,
Your husband
The note was touching, especially since he knew how you’d be feeling.
“When did he write this?” you asked Chucho, whose eyes you met, the man smiling.
“When he met up with Connie and all of them at the house before they came out here. I’d given him the flask when he got there as a gift, but he told me to keep it for you and asked if he could write you a message. It reminded me so much of his mother, I couldn’t say no.”
“Thanks, Pop. I needed it.”
“I know you did, Mija.” He patted your leg.
When Javier saw his father's truck in the distance, his heart rate increased, and by the time they parked at the bottom of the hill, his heart was beating so fast that he was sure it was going to beat right out of his chest.
With where he was standing at the tree and how the land sloped, he didn’t have a visual. Steve was beside him with Nate still in the carrier, Connie and Stevie, who was holding the pillow with the rings, had walked to the top of the hill and were looking down it, probably watching Olivia, who booked it to join the people at the truck. Seb was near Steve's wife and kid with the camcorder and a battery-powered boombox on the ground he was supposed to hit play on when Robyn gave him the signal.
Sweat was forming on his brow and on his palms. He turned to Steve.
"Do I look okay?" he asked his friend. "How's my hair? And the bow tie?" He lifted his chin.
The other man was wearing an amused smile. "Hair and bow tie look as fine as they did when you asked five minutes ago." He put a hand on Javier's shoulder and squeezed. "Relax, man—you look great. She's gonna love what she sees."
"I fucking hope so."
The sun had started its descent on the horizon and was the backdrop for the place they’d be standing; the sky where it met land was lit up in burning orange, bleeding into golden yellow where the sun was positioned, and high above that, it turned into a calming mauve.
The soft, melodic sound of a piano began, and it was Javier's cue to face the others. Christine McVie’s voice floated through the air as she sang the opening to the Fleetwood Mac song, "Songbird:"
“For you there'll be no more crying
For you the Sun will be shining
And I feel that when I'm with you
It's alright, I know it's right.”
Seconds later, Robyn came into view, smiling while holding a small bouquet of sunflowers with a lavender ribbon wrapped around the stems. She shot her boyfriend, Sebastián, a wink as she passed him. She took her spot across from Javier beside where Cielito would be.
When he discussed with his wife-to-be the music for today, she only knew for sure what she wanted them to dance their first dance to, and since Javier didn’t object to it, she left what she’d walk down the aisle to up to him. He knew she’d hate the traditional “Bridal Chorus,” a couple of Elvis Presley songs came to mind, “No Sé Tú” by Luis Miguel perfectly described how Javier felt when they met and was a good option, “At Last” by Etta James would be appropriate, too, and “I Could Fall in Love” by Selena was in the running, because, Selena, but then he remembered this song on Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours—his favorite album, and for good reason with it having some of the band’s best classics like “The Chain,” “Dreams,” and “Go Your Own Way;” it was also seeping with palpable heartbreak of a messy breakup, except for the track, “Songbird.” It was a major tonal shift from all the angst with its pretty piano and Christine McVie crooning her love. What sold him on it were the lines:
“To you, I’ll give the world
To you, I’ll never be cold
‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you
It’s alright, I know it’s right.”
He loved it when he heard it played live at the band's concert twenty-three years ago—he’d been seventeen and still in high school; he and his buddies snuck off to Fort Worth to see them, and “Songbird��� was the last song of their set before the encore.
It was his three-year-old sobrino’s (nephew’s) turn to walk forward, his mom sending him to his dad with the rings—they all laughed at how he ran as fast as he could, making Javier smile.
"Here, Daddy," the child said to Steve, holding up the pillow.
His father accepted it.
"Great job, kiddo—high-five." His friend had to bend a little to gently hit his palm to Stevie’s tinier one, and the toddler turned to Javier expectantly, who, of course, bent his knees and high-fived him.
"You did good, buddy,” he said.
Steve told his son to stand with him, and Connie went to be next to Robyn as everyone watched Olivia walk up, tossing red rose petals from a small white basket, leaving a trail of them behind her. He hum-sang under his breath along with the song:
“And the songbirds are singing
Like they know the score
And I love you, I love you, I love you
Like never before.”
Finally, his bride came into view, her eyes locking onto his, and all the love he had for, all of his happiness, and thanks he had to the universe for making this day happen overflowed from him, falling as tears down his face and made his smile so big, he could feel the dimple in his cheek.
She was breathtaking and better than anything he could’ve imagined; this moment would be seared into his brain for all eternity, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy in his entire life—he almost told Steve to make sure he didn’t float away.
Her bouquet was made up of roses from his mother’s garden, and his heart felt like it would burst. Then the dress—Jesus Christ, the dress was perfect with how it molded to her body and showed off her tits from the neckline V-ing between them. His fingers were itching to see if the fabric was as buttery smooth as it looked, wanting to explore the expanse with his fingertips, mapping out every curve, line, and dip he’d already ventured countless times before but now on a new canvas; He desired to feel her softness under his palms and cradle her beautiful face to kiss those delectable lips he so loved; he wanted to hold her in his arms, her familiar shape he knew as intimately as his own, pressed against him, where she belonged.
All of it was getting him too excited, and his pants were feeling tighter, just as he suspected might happen.
Javier’s dream wedding night would have them partying with their friends and family well into the later hours and holding off on consummating their marriage until they retired to the room he rented at the nicest hotel in town he was surprising her with. He’d been determined to do just that up until he had to spend the previous evening by himself where he was alone with his thoughts and ruminated on how beautiful she was going to look, that she was going to be his wife, and one day soon, the mother of his children; since she wasn’t there to distract him by simply being in his vicinity, he worked himself up until he was rock hard and had to take a freezing shower.
He didn’t see there being any chance they’d make it to the hotel without them fucking at least once beforehand.
God, she was so fucking gorgeous.
He had to wipe at the wetness on his face, his smile continuing to shine.
Telling her his feelings in front of everyone wasn’t all he’d been nervous about; his brain was a real asshole, and there’d been a tiny thread of worry she wasn’t going to show—it was stupid, to have even fathomed something so absurd, yet looking at how shitty his luck was up until they met, he thought it wouldn’t have been too surprising that this time he’d be the one left at the altar.
But she was here! She came! And he was so overjoyed he couldn’t stop crying.
Wait.
Oh, fuck, she was close now—what was he supposed to do? It only just registered that she was walking with his dad, and they were almost to him, and he couldn’t remember what needed to happen when she got to him. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and he was starting to panic that he didn’t know what his next move was, worried he was going to fuck it all up; it was unbelievable that he’d been in gunfights, had to think on the fly to stay alive many times, and put on press conferences, yet at this moment when there wasn’t any danger or eager reporters, he was so overwhelmed by the woman he loved’s beauty, and that she was marrying him, his brain had ceased functioning entirely, and he was spiraling at embarrassing himself with so many onlookers.
Javi was having a panic attack.
The change in his eyes, how they went from bright and happy to panicked, clued you in, and any nervousness you felt flew out the window because your only concern was helping him.
Unhooking your arm from Chucho, you held out the hand, not holding flowers to Robyn.
“Flask me,” you said. Quickly, she pulled it from her pocket and passed it to you, taking your bouquet in return. You stepped in front of your betrothed as you unscrewed the cap on the container of booze. “Hey, baby,” you said in a soothing tone. “You’re okay.” You grabbed his hand and put the flask in it, pushing it toward his face. “Have a drink to calm your nerves. Everything is gonna be okay, honey. Remember, we’re doing this together—it’s just us.”
The music had stopped playing.
He shook his head once like he was trying to shake the bad stuff out, and he took a drink, or several, with how his Adam’s apple kept bobbing.
“Looks like I’ll be driving us after this.” The adults surrounding you chuckled, and you smiled.
His hand lowered, and his vision focused on you, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“No reason to be sorry—I freaked out in the car.” You took the flask from him, screwed on the cap, and handed it back to Robyn without looking. “Feeling better?” you asked, smoothing your fingers over his bangs while his eyes were on yours.
“Much,” he answered with a small smile, his palms moving to rest on your hips.
“Wanna get married?”
“More than anything.”
“Good—liquid courage helps.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek, then put your lips near his ear for only him to hear, “Say the word, and we’ll pack up, go party with everyone, and hit the courthouse tomorrow.”
He spoke softly in your ear, “Thank you, Cielito, but I promise I’m okay.” He kissed your cheek. “I told you I’d see how beautiful you are and forget how to function.”
You giggled, pulling back to look at him, taking in the black tuxedo jacket and bow tie over his crisp white shirt and the lavender pocket square and the pinned violet rose for a pop of color—his hair still looked good, and you rubbed away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.
When he saw you in your wedding dress, the expression on his face was something you’d never forget—it was a look of pure, uninhibited joy, and you were sure you saw hearts in his eyes with how they beamed his immense love and devotion. The way that it had him crying happy tears made you feel emotional that someone loved you with such magnitude. It’s why your immediate thought when you saw him panicking wasn’t that he wanted to back out, knowing from his note that he was freaking the fuck out about embarrassing himself, and the nerves got him.
“Let’s get married.” His head turned to kiss one of your palms.
“Let’s get married.”
Turning to your almost-father-in-law, you gave him a quick hug, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to give Javi a side hug, careful of the stuff held in one of his hands and whispering something in his son’s ear, you didn’t catch.
The elder Peña went to stand at his place in front of the tree, holding his worn, soft leather bible, with a picture of Javi’s mother stuck to the cover and a note card sticking out from between the pages to mark a spot.
Javier took your hand, and you both walked the few steps to your spots before his father; he grasped your other palm in his once you faced one another, Chucho on your left and Javi’s right.
Your husband-to-be mouthed, ‘I love you,’ and you silently replied with the movement of your lips, ‘I love you, too.’
Chucho cleared his throat, and your attention went to him.
“Welcome, loved ones,” he started, “we are gathered here today in the sight of God and each other to bear witness to the perfect union of Javier, and—” He said your name. “What a joyous day we get to share with them as they embark on this new journey of a life together in matrimony that will, no doubt, be long, healthy, and filled with love, happiness, and laughter.
“Mijo, Mija,” he addressed you both, “I called this union between you perfect, and I meant it. Besides my marriage to my dear Antonia, que en paz descanse (may she rest in peace), I cannot think of two other people more suited to share a life together. It’s clear the good you bring out in one another and how happy you make each other.” His eyes landed on you. “And you truly make my son happy. This might come as a shock,” he said to everyone in attendance, “but Javier is a smiley guy when he’s happy, and I haven’t seen him smile so much in a long, long time.
“He also has never been able to hide his feelings because that handsome face of his tells his secrets—it’s his—” He glanced at you. “—I’m stealing this from you, Mija—it’s his puppy dog eyes, he got from his mother, and she suffered the same problem.” His gaze stayed on you. “I know Javier loves you more than there’s blue in all the sky because he looks at you the same way mi amor looked at me, and as we know, their eyes don’t lie.”
He was right, and it made you choke up that he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such honesty and the weight of so much love.
Chucho looked at his son. “Your media naranja (soulmate) isn’t much better.” He nodded toward you. “Her eyes betray her, too, even when she does her damndest to hide behind a mask. When she looks at you, though, the truth of her love is revealed—her thoughts are loud when she stares at you, and sometimes I think I can hear them; the declaration of ‘I love you,’ she’s repeating over and over again. She looks at you like you’re her whole world, and I know it’s true from those looks, how she treats and cares for you, the things she does for you, even when you don’t ask, and the effort she puts into cultivating your relationship.”
He spoke to you both again. “Marriage can be wonderful with the right person, but it isn’t always easy; I want to take a moment and give you some advice that kept my marriage happy.
“Be best friends—talk about everything, even when you don’t want to or it’s a hard subject. Communicate your needs and wants constantly, and don’t stop talking to each other. Be best friends who share everything, and I mean everything, because your relationship needs to be built upon trust, and there’s nothing better than spending your life with your best friend.
“Keep having fun—joke around, cook together, dance in the kitchen, don’t stop having fun. And keep dating each other. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean that the dating stops. Go out, stay in, just have romantic time you dedicate to one another; that way, the spark stays alive. I know it’ll be harder to do when you have kids; you’ll be exhausted and won’t have much energy. Dating still needs to be a priority, and it doesn’t have to be anything exciting; it can be as simple as putting the kids to bed, staying up, watching a movie together, or baking cookies.”
“—or folding laundry together,” Steve interjected.
Javi chuckled, and you were confused. He leaned toward you to whisper in your ear, “It’s their code word for sex.”
“Oh, that’s smart,” you said as he straightened.
A furrow was between Chucho’s eyebrows. “I guess folding laundry can be romantic…” the older man said. “Now, where was I?” He opened his bible and pulled out the notecard, his eyes scanning over. “Oh, yes—anyone can fall in love; it’s nurturing that love, sharing your life with the other, facing challenges together, and growing as one that makes it real love, and what you have is real. The love you share and I had with my wife is beautiful, but it’s also fierce, it’s powerful, and all consuming; it’s not something anyone can get between and will live on even when you no longer walk the earth. I know you didn’t want a religious ceremony, but there’s a scripture I’d like to share that perfectly describes what I mean. May I?” he asked, his bible already open to the page.
Javier and you figured he’d slip in a verse or two simply because he was a devout Christian man. It was nice of him to ask permission first, though. You turned your head to meet your almost-husband’s eyes and shrugged that you were fine with it. He smiled, his attention going back to his father.
“Go ahead,” Javi said.
Chucho had a toothy grin. “Wonderful—it’s in Songs of Solomon 8 and reads: Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.”
He shut the bible with one hand, his notes resting atop it.
“I wish more people got to experience that kind of love—it’d do the world a whole lot of good. Javier—” He looked at his son, then over to you, saying your name. “I know with how you feel for each other, it’s natural to think marriage is the next step in your relationship. I want you to be sure you know what you’re getting into.” His eyes were moving between you both. “This is a lifelong commitment that will have its ups and downs, highs and lows, and you’ll need to challenge yourselves to love the other more completely each and every day. Are you ready to take this step?”
Without missing a beat, Javi and you said simultaneously, ‘Yes,’ your hands still in his.
Chucho smiled. “Wonderful. Javier—” His eyes went to his son. “—do you take—” He said your name. “—to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you honor her, cherish her, love, trust, and commit to her and her alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” Javi said.
His father turned his attention to you and addressed you by name. “—do you take Javier to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor him, cherish him, love, trust, and commit to him and him alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” you answered.
“It’s time for you to share the vows you’ve written for one another before you exchange rings. Who’d like to go first?”
“Me!” you said immediately, and everyone laughed. “I need to get them out of the way before Javi makes me a blubbering mess. Robyn, vows me.” Turning her way, you put out your hand, and she juggled the two bouquets she held to pull a folded piece of paper from her pocket to hand to you. “Have I told you your dress is amazing?” you asked her.
“Thank you—I look good and have pockets. What could be better?”
“Dresses with pockets are a game-changer.” You faced Javi, and heat bloomed up your neck and on your face at remembering you had to say how you felt in front of people.
“Hey,” Javi said to get your attention, and your gazes locked. “It’s just me,” he whispered. “Talk to me—no one else is here.”
“Right.” You smiled, then focused on the lined notebook paper you unfolded that had your writing on it. “Javier Jesús Peña López,” you began, “the first of his name, King of my heart, Lord of our tiny apartment, and Protector of me—”
“Just Javi’s fine,” he said.
You giggled. “Javi, not a day goes by that I am unaware of how lucky I am to have found you. When I think about how much time you spent away from this town—that I both love and hate—all the people you’ve met, the life you’ve lived, and the things you’ve gone through, it’s a miracle our paths crossed, and possibly Divine Intervention or the universe doing me a solid, that after everything that’s happened to you, you’ve ended up here, with me.
“It’s crazy the number of obstacles we’ve had to face together and how many people are obsessed with making your life difficult—this isn’t me complaining. I’m weirdly thankful for it; it’s kept us on our toes and tested our bond. It’s improved our communication and has built a strong foundation for our relationship.
“Something I’m also thankful for is the trust we share. I can count on you. I know you’re true to your word, and I have no reason to worry about you ever being deceitful.
“What’s also reassuring is your star signs back up the faith I have in you—as a Sagittarius, you value honesty, and when you find someone you think is really worth it, you commit, and you commit hard. With Capricorn and Scorpio in your top three, you’re super loyal, a little possessive, and definitely a relationship guy. To sum all of that up, you’re pretty much perfect and an amazing partner.
“You’re a good man, the best I’ve known. My life is better with you in it. Thank you for loving me.” Tears started to distort your vision, the emotion coming through in your voice. “Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for your unwavering support and for being my rock. Thank you for being my protector and making me feel so safe with you. Thank you for being my best friend and the love of my life.”
You had to take a deep breath to calm yourself.
“Here are my promises to you,” you said, “I promise to love you until the end of time, and if I happen to go first, haunt you until we can be together again.” He chuckled. “I promise to be your protector and to always have your back; I will go to battle for you in a heartbeat, and hopefully, you know that. I promise to be honest, and it should go without saying because, as we’ve established, you’re perfect, but I promise to be faithful. I promise to keep making you laugh and smile. I promise to put you first and to always be your best friend—sorry, Steve.”
“You can have him,” Steve replied, and everyone laughed.
You continued speaking, “I promise to make your mother’s tamales a couple times a year—I promise to make you one of her other recipes on the days you miss her particularly bad. I promise to keep reminding you that you’re sexier and better than Harrison Ford.” That one made him and the others crack up. “I promise to rap “Whatta Man” for you every time it comes on, so you don’t forget whatta man you are. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen every chance we get. I promise to try, keyword here, try, not to recite the movies word for word when we watch Star Wars or Addams Family Values. I promise to always make sure we don’t run out of limes or your hot sauce or side-eye you when you put either on the perfectly seasoned food I made. I promise to always leave you the last of the ice cream because you’re a dirty liar when you say you don’t want it. I promise to tell you I love you every day until the day I die. I promise that you and your love will always be enough, and I’ll always pick you; I’ll always choose you over anyone else.
“Today, the separate books of our lives have come to an end, and we’re starting the next one together—I can’t wait to see what each new chapter will bring. What I know for sure—” You glanced over at Chucho. “—I’m stealing this from you, Pop—” Your eyes went to Javi’s, and his were reddened, his face glistening from crying and flushed from the alcohol. “—What I know for sure,” you said, “is this new adventure we’re beginning, will be filled with love, happiness, and laughter.
“Javi, you are my person. You’re the love of my life, my one true love, mi media naranja, the person I want to go to sleep with every night and wake up with every morning. You’re my best friend and my forever.
“I love you, Javier Jesús Peña López and I am so happy I get to spend eternity with you.”
His smile was big enough his dimple was showing and you hated that you couldn’t kiss him.
Chucho sniffled, putting his bible under his arm to get his handkerchief from his pocket, lifting his glasses to wipe away his tears.
“That was beautiful, Mija. When you’re ready, Javi, go ahead.”
All she said had Javier feeling so unbelievably happy that he couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears streaming down his cheeks, and he thought his smile might be permanently stuck on his face—he was sure the alcohol wasn’t helping him to keep his composure.
His dad’s speech had gotten him, too, especially about how Chucho could see her feelings for him and said their love was real. He always wondered if the intensity of what he felt for her was normal, and hearing that his parents were the same way reassured him that they just had a strong connection. His father’s advice was helpful, too, and he planned on following it.
She looked incredible and smelled amazing; her perfume wasn’t one she’d worn before, but he knew the scent because he got it for her as a Christmas present—it was intoxicating, and he was dying to shove his face into her neck to drown himself in it. With the emotions she was eliciting from him, her beauty, the perfume, and the whiskey he drank, it was a heady combination that had him feeling buzzed, and he was so caught up in all of it that it had completely slipped his mind that he had to speak.
“Shit,” he said under his breath and barely pulled open the left side of his jacket to get into the inside pocket. First, he grabbed his reading glasses, which he put on, then the folded piece of yellow, lined paper he’d taken from a legal pad at work.
“I am literally the luckiest woman in the world,” Cielito said, and his eyes lifted to her. She was smiling, her eyelashes wet, and she looked incredibly delighted.
“The glasses?” he asked with a smirk.
“Oh, yeah,” she answered. “You’re spoiling me. I get glasses Javi in a tuxedo, and he’s gonna say pretty, romantic things about how much he loves me—talk about the best day ever.”
“With how you look?” he said. “It’s my best day ever, too.”
She playfully smacked his arm. “Stop it, don’t make me want to suck—”
Robyn started coughing loudly, and his wife-to-be’s eyes widened.
“—hug you more,” she tried to save and cringed. “Hugs, not drugs, am I right?” She chuckled nervously.
He snorted, shaking his head. “You ready?” he asked.
“Wait.” Her upper body twisted so she could look behind her. “Tissue me,” she said to Robyn, and her friend got a clean one out of her pocket and exchanged it for Cielito’s folded paper. She faced him again. “Okay, I’m ready. Remember to focus on me. No one else is here.”
“That’ll be easy.” He cleared his throat, his eyes moving to what he’d written. It wasn’t something he said often, but he let her first name slide off his tongue, thinking how perfect it was going to sound paired with his last. “—mi Cielito, mi amor, mi alma, mi media naranja, y ahora, mi esposa (My Cielito, my love, my soul, my soulmate, and now, my wife), my life didn’t begin until the moment I met you; what I mean by that, is I was alive, yes, I was breathing, I had a pulse, but I didn’t start living until we met. You made me want to live and be happy—for so long, I thought I would die miserable and alone, and you showed me that I deserved happiness and to be loved.” His eyes were burning, and the following sentence made him choke up. “You showed me I deserved a family of my own.” Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I thank the universe, the powers that be. I thank whoever let you find me because I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”
He went off script to look into her beautiful, teary eyes. “Pop was right; I love you more than there’s blue in the sky, I love you more than there’s water in all the depths of the oceans, I love you more than there are stars in the entire galaxy—I love you more than anything, and I mean anything.”
He focused on what he’d written again. “I once told you I didn’t believe in true love, and I didn’t—that was just made-up stuff in the cartoon movies I watched with Olivia. Or at least I thought it was before you, and then, having you in my life, I discovered it was real. With you, ‘media naranja (soulmate)’ isn’t just a term of endearment; it’s an acknowledgment that you’re my other half and that we’re two parts meant to be together. Love with you transcends what most people have; we feel it deeper than our bones, all the way down into our souls, where we’re connected.
“Our love is true love.”
Wetness was dripping from his eyes to splatter onto the paper.
“Those fairytale movies got something right, and it’s that this kind of love would make a person fight dragons and sea witches for their true love. As my father said, it’s fierce, powerful, and all-consuming. It doesn’t end when our hearts stop beating; it continues on—it’s infinite—what we feel for one another is more than a single life can handle, and I’ll follow you when this one’s over; we’ll find each other again, and live another life together because there is no me without you or you without me.
“From the first day we met, I knew you were special. We spent hours talking in that bar, and I’ve never felt such peace or so comfortable with someone; with you, I don’t have to keep my guard up. I can be vulnerable, speak what’s on my mind, and openly show my affection. With you, I’m safe, and from the first night, you were my Cielito, my little heaven—there’s no better name for you, not with how happy you make me, how you make me feel, and how much better my life is with you.
“You’re my little heaven, mi Cielito, my everything. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known—thank you.” His voice faltered, and he had to wipe at his eyes as best he could beneath his glasses. “Those two words aren’t enough to express my gratitude, and I will spend every waking moment showing you how thankful I am for you and all you’ve done.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, “it’s not enough, but thank you.”
He sounded gravelly, the words thick. “In you, I’ve found love, a wife, a partner for life, a best friend, an incredible lover, a home, a teacher to show me how to live; someone who makes me happy, makes me laugh, someone to have a family with, who supports me, inspires me, and makes me want to be a better man.
“Thank you for being all of this and more. Thank you for marrying me today and making me the happiest man in the entire goddamn universe.
“Fuck,” he breathed, taking off his readers to hold with the paper while his other hand scrubbed away the tears. “I really hoped I wouldn’t cry this much—it’s embarrassing.”
“I love it,” she reassured. “It just shows you really mean what you’re saying.”
He put the lenses back on and looked at her, seeing her eyes were red from crying, the tissue in her hand stained with mascara—she’d managed to keep from ruining the rest of her makeup.
“I do mean it all,” he said.
She was smiling. “I know.”
Javier composed himself by taking a deep breath and clearing his throat. Finally, he was ready to speak again. “It was hard figuring out my vows because I wanted to promise you everything your heart could possibly desire, but Pop said that was boring.” He frowned.
“And that he needed to do better,” Chucho added.
Javier sighed.
“I would’ve been fine with that vow,” Cielito said.
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Pop was right. You deserve the best.” He took another deep breath and slowly let it out, looking at what he’d written and patting himself on the back for making notes—he was definitely too emotional and tipsy to have remembered everything he wanted to say. “Cielito,” he started, “you have all my love and devotion, and I give you myself; my mind, body, and soul belong to you. I vow to never stop loving you, even when this earth is no more and the stars stop shining. I vow to make you feel loved and cherished until the end of my days. I vow to always be your best friend, your confidant, your shoulder to cry on, y un chismoso contigo (and a gossiper with you)—me encanta chismear contigo (I love to gossip with you).”
She giggled, and he smiled.
“I vow to be your equal in everything and give more than I take. I vow to always be there for you no matter what, in sickness and health, when life is easy and hard, I’ll stand by you and be your anchor.” The next one made his smile get bigger. “I vow to treat you like una reina (a queen) and be the best husband you could ask for so when you brag to your girlfriends, they can see their worth and deserve to be treated like queens, too. I vow to be the best father, one you can rely on, and doesn’t call watching my own children babysitting; I’ll pull my weight, I’ll never let you get overwhelmed, and I’ll be an active parent who loves our kids so fu-freaking much.”
“I vow to keep you safe and always make you feel safe; I’ll protect you and our children with my life. I vow to make sure all of your needs are met.” He smirked, glancing at her. “I vow to ‘fold laundry’ with you whenever you ask.” He winked, and she laughed.
“Why are adults so obsessed with laundry?” He heard Olivia ask.
“I’m wonderin’ the same thing, kiddo,” Robyn said. “I’m not obsessed with it.”
“Oh, believe me, you are,” Connie replied.
“I know the stars,” Javier said, “that astrology stuff you love, told you this already, but I want you to hear it from me, too: I vow to be loyal to you and faithful, always—to me, you are the only woman I see, or will ever want; I vow to put you and our family before all else.”
He looked at her with a smile. “I have some more things I’m gonna promise after hearing yours. I vow to always give you my pickles.” Her grin was big and happy as she giggled. “I vow to always let you sing Freddie Mercury’s parts in Bohemian Rhapsody while I do the guitar solo, and I’ll always leave you the last piece of cheesecake because I love you and value my life.” That made her giggle harder. “I vow to try, the keyword here is try, to not, as you put it, ‘creepily watch you while you sleep,’ even though you’re guilty of the same thing.” Her giggles transformed into laughter. “I vow to always dance with you when we’re cleaning the house and in the kitchen while we cook together. I vow to pretend—I mean, agree that you’re the best driver in Laredo and always know your way around, even when you don’t.”
There was a reason he drove them the majority of the time.
“Rude!” she gasped. “I’m an amazing driver!”
“I agree, mi amor, you’re the best in Laredo.” He winked again, folded his paper, and put it back in his inner pocket. He spoke as he took off his reading glasses. “There’s one more thing I vow,” he said, putting the lenses away. His hands were free and he grabbed hers, ignoring the tissue clenched in one of her palms, and stared adoringly into her eyes. “I vow that years from now—decades—after our kids are grown, and we’ve retired, maybe we’ll be living in Florida like other retirees, or we’ll still be here where our family lives and we made our best memories; I vow that when we’re old and grey and can’t hear or see shit without hearing aids or glasses, that we’ll look back on our life together, and we’ll have no regrets.
“Zero,” he said.
“We did everything we wanted and lived the life we shared to the fullest, filled with love, happiness, and laughter.”
Her shoulders started to shake, and she had to let go of his hand to blot at her eyes.
“Javier!” she cried, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. “Why would you end with something so sweet?”
“Para que sepas cómo nuestro futuro será (So you know what our future together will be like). Quería que vieras que cuando me des ese anillo, te daré mi futuro y lo que venga después de eso (I wanted you to see that when you give me that ring, I’ll give you my future and whatever comes after that).”
She leaned back to look at him, and he was impressed that only her mascara had gotten messed up. She poked him in the chest and said, “That ring is going on your finger right this second.” Javier chuckled as her head turned to his dad. “Can we do the rings now, please?”
Chucho laughed. “Yes, Mija, you can do the rings. Who has them?” he asked aloud.
“Me!” Steve answered and moved to stand next to the older man, being careful not to bump Nate, who’d fallen asleep in the backpack carrier. At some point, the three-year-old Stevie had gone over to his mom and was now sitting in the grass next to her, eating Goldfish crackers out of a plastic baggy from the diaper bag near them. Steve untied the ribbon keeping the gold bands secured, then picked them both up, the pillow getting shoved under his arm. “Here, Jav.” Javier turned a little, holding out his palm to his friend, and her ring was set in it. He faced his bride again.
“At this time, they will exchange rings,” Chucho said, holding his bible in front of him with the notecard atop it. “Javier, go ahead and place it on her finger.” She looked adorably giddy, presenting her left hand to him, and he held it in his palm as he slid the band onto the finger with her engagement ring, pressing it against the other. “Now, repeat after me,” his dad said, reading his notes, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”
Javier’s eyes fastened onto hers, and he repeated what his father said: “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.” When he finished speaking, he lifted her hand to press his lips to the new addition on her finger with a kiss, keeping his gaze on her watery one.
“I love you,” she told him.
His thumb rubbed over the gold as he lowered her arm. “I love you, too.”
“Mija,” Chucho said, “it’s your turn.”
Javier held his hand out for her to take, and when she did, goosebumps rose on his skin, practically vibrating from anticipation. Her palm was smaller and softer than his, and he watched as Steve passed her the remaining ring. A big smile formed on his face at her not waiting for his father’s instruction, putting the band onto his finger immediately—it got stuck on his knuckle, and she had to wiggle it a little to finally slide it home.
“Repeat after me,” Chucho said, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”
She held his larger palm in both of her smaller ones, gazing into his eyes and smiling as she said, “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”
His breath hitched as he watched her raise his hand to kiss the band, his eyes burning with unshed tears.
His father started speaking to them, “Now that you’ve proclaimed your love for one another and exchanged rings as a seal of the promises you made today in front of these witnesses and myself, by the power vested in me by the great State of Texas, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife! Javier, you may now kiss your bride!”
There was clapping and hollering, someone patted his back, and Javier didn’t waste any time—he was told he could finally kiss this stunning woman in front of him, who he loved more than anything; she completed him and made him happy like no one else—ella es su vida (she is his life), su amor (his love), su media naranja (his soulmate), finalmente su esposa (finally his wife), his Cielito.
The fingers of one of his hands traced over the familiar line of her jaw, the other pulling her tight to his chest, finding the fabric of her dress was as buttery soft as he suspected. The sun had barely sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky fiery in its wake, and as it descended, so did Javier’s mouth onto hers, crushing his lips to hers. At the first touch, it felt like electricity was thrumming just below his skin, his heart racing, the press of her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck making tingles wash down his spine.
It was almost like he was kissing her for the first time, and it started out gentle, wanting to savor this moment with his wife—his wife—they were married. He was a husband and wearing a ring, the metal currently pressed to the warm skin of her cheek. His excitement got the better of him, and he deepened the kiss, licking in her mouth, her soft moan causing arousal to erupt in his belly, feeling blood begin to rush to his groin. She seemed to be just as ravenous as him, their tongues tangling and her hands gripping handfuls of his hair.
Javier didn’t think he could be happier than he was at this moment.
This was the best day of his entire fucking life.
He was a married man with an amazing wife and their lives were intertwined now, becoming one they both shared. What wound him up even more was her taking his last name—not in a possessive way, but because it was another thing they’d share, and Javier wanted to share everything with her. Name, life, home, things, children, all of it, he wanted to have and with her by his side.
His dad’s voice showed amusement when he heard him speak. “We’ll just let them get that out of their system.” People laughed. “It’s my great pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Peña!”
Mr. and Mrs. Peña.
Nothing sounded more perfect.
They hadn’t stopped kissing, too caught up in each other.
“Why are they trying to eat each other’s faces?” Olivia asked, clearly confused.
Steve shouted, “Cover her eyes, Connie!”
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a/n: The song she walked down the aisle to was "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac. The bible verse mentioned is Song of Solomon 8:6-7 (RSVCE).
Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!
#pedro pascal#javier peña#Javier Peña/reader#Javier Peña/you#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña fanfiction#wheresarizona writes#learning to live series
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lionesses x teen!reader
lucy bronze x teen!reader
summary: lionesses x teen!reader, where r struggles with social anxiety and her older teammates support her.
(this was a request, but the request disappeared. but here it is!)
warnings: social anxiety, angst, nightmare, fluff and mentions of panic attack, please remind me if there is more tw! (do not read if you get triggered)
word count: 2826
i hope you like this one, i loved the request and i got really satisfied with the oneshot!
hope you enjoy!
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You zoned out again, probably for the dozen time this week. It is England camp and you know what that means, I love all my england teammates trust me. They are like my family but I have a secret no one knows about, not even my teammates at Arsenal.
I have social anxiety, i feel very ashamed by it. It is so embarrassing that I need to take medications to function, and even when I take them I don't feel like myself.
It was day 2 of england camp. Which means we arrived yesterday. I am roomies with Lucy this camp because Jordan is with her lover (Leah). I love rooming with Lucy, she is like a mother to me. She is very protective but I try keeping my diagnosis a secret from her. Sometimes I even call her mom.
I am 17 now and when i first got called up to the national team I was 15 so the whole team, especially the older girls and Lucy are very protective over me and they helped me when i struggled with panic attacks during my first call ups and my debut for England.
8:00 clock
The alarm went off on Lucy's phone, I did not sleep very well. I had an awful nightmare in the middle of the night, that is all i think about now. I am just so scared that people will judge me for what i say. After conversations with the team last night I regret what i said, you did not say something bad. But you just feel being judged. The most awful feeling in the world.
My mom turned off the alarm and turned to me, I probably looked awful because I slept like shit. "Oh y/nn, are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes, just did not sleep very well" I said back. I started walking towards the bathroom exhaustively when she came up behind me and gave me a hug. "You know we are here for you right", she said. I just hugged her back saying "I know mom, i love you" and walked in the bathroom locking the door getting ready.
When I was done I unlocked the door and asked Lucy if she was ready to go down for breakfast. You see, we have two bathrooms. So each one of us has their private bathroom. I totally love it.
When we open our door Jordan and Leah stood there already waiting for us, they have the room beside us and we always walk down for breakfast together.
I have never been so scared before but after my nightmare last night I am really scared now, the only one who knows I have social anxiety is my manager at Arsenal, Jonas Eidevall and my manager at the national team, Sarina Wiegman.
It's an obligation for them to know because mental health is very important and because I take medications everyday. That reminds me, I forgot to take it this morning. Shit.
When we walked into the dining room I was sweating and nervous as crazy. I was shaking non stop and couldn't wait for my breakfast so I could sit down alone in peace. Just thinking.
After getting my food, I decided to eat some and oatmeal today. Because the oatmeal here is hella good.
Anyway I walked towards an empty table when I heard a familiar voice calling my name, I turned around and saw the gaffer, Sarina Wiegman.
Shit
"Y/n, could we talk outside for a minute please?". She asked me with a smile but I could tell the concerning look in her eyes when she saw me fiddling with my fingers anxiously.
"Yes, of course" I said with a shaky voice I think the whole team heard because when me and Sarina walked outside of the room I could see in the corner of my eye Lucy and the other girls watching me with questioning but worried looks.
When me and Sarina got outside she looked me in the eye and asked if something was on my mind. I said no. "Are you sure y/nn?, it is important that we know everything".
"Okay fine, I have been really struggling with nightmares and I had a panic attack a few hours before arriving to England camp yesterday" I said with a shaky voice and tears in my eyes.
"Oh honey, it is okay! Totally okay to have ups and downs, everyone here would support you, which got me asking, does anybody know about your social anxiety? And have you taken your medications today?" she asked...
I looked down in shame, no and no I told her.
"I am really sorry Sarina but it is so hard, I don't want to be judged if I tell the others, and be treated differently.
"Honey, it is very important that you open up, I really think it is time for you to open up, and I promise you that none of the girls will judge you, we all love you and want to support you! You will not get treated differently, everyone has their own struggles, do not feel embarrassed by it", she said to me sternly but very soft.
Which is one of the things I like about Sarina, a brilliant manager but first and foremost a amazing women who cares about every one of us as her kids.
Me and Sarina talked a bit more and she told me that because I have been struggling a lot with my anxiety and sleeping I will not start tomorrow, when we play against Ireland in the euro qualifier at Wembley. Which I totally understand, I need to get my shit together and open up because I hopefully think I will feel much better then. Also feel closer with my teammates, not that I am not close with them. trust me I am but recently I have been shutting down and try to isolate from the others, which they now have realised.
Sarina has some of my medications in her office, incase I forget to bring or take mine so we went to her office and I took them, with disgust. It makes me feel different, I don't like that.
"Y/n, is it not your fault you have social anxiety, okay? Trust me, you are not different, okay. Now you need to go to breakfast before training".
She then gave me a hug and I left her office. Have I told you that I love the hugs Sarina gives, it is probably one of the best hugs ever!
I walked towards the dining room again and looked at my phone and saw that I was with Sarina for almost 20 minutes, now Lucy is probably really worried.
I thought about how I am going to tell the team. I am first going to tell Lucy and some of the veterans on the team.
When I walked inside dining room some of the tables were in a middle of a conversation and did not see me, unfortunately Lucy looked up at the door the second it open.
Lucys pov
Sarina called y/n outside and I would be lying if I said I was not worried. I am sitting with the group I always sit with at England camp, Leah, Keira, Georgia, Rachel, Millie, Jordan, Mary and Beth Mead. I have been worried about y/n for a while, I sat deep in my thoughts thinking about y/n when Rach suddenly asked. "Lucy, you good? You've been sitting spaced out for a while".
"Yes I am ok, i am just a bit worried about the youngster, in other words y/nn". As much as i love her I want what's best for her and I really think she is struggling with something, she always seems scared, nervous and it gives me signs of anxiety".
"Yeah that is actually true" Leah said, "Her being on arsenal me, Beth and Jordan pretty much see y/n everyday and she seems very tense". Millie being the softie she is said "We should probably try talk to her later when she comes back".
"Good idea, I say. "but I can't stop thinking about why Sarina wanted to talk to her".
Keira leaned over to me and whispered in my ear "stop being so nervous love, we will talk to her and support y/nn no matter what".
I just kissed her on the cheek and said thank you.
We sat there eating and making small talk when I looked at the clock, y/n has been away for like 20 minutes now. I am kind of starting to get nervous now
But as I thought of her the door opened and there she walked in deep in her thoughts with a hard look on her face. She picked up her food she got earlier and wanted to sit alone, she walked past us but Jordan grabbed her wrist softly asking "You want to sit with us?, there is an empty chair beside Georgia".
Reader´s pov again
I picked up my food I left on an empty table before I was pulled out to talk with Sarina and was walking towards and empty table, but as I was walking past the table Lucy and the other girls were on I felt a hand grabbing my wrist, softly but suddenly.
it was Jordan
"You want to sit with us?, there is an empty chair beside Georgia".
The table consisted of Lucy, Leah, Keira, Georgia, Rachel, Millie the brick wall Bright, Jordan, Mary and Beth Mead.
Deciding not to be rude I said "Yeah sure", with probably the shakiest voice for the 100th times today. I walked over and sat beside Georgia
Then I felt as I was being watch, I looked every one of them in the eye and I asked if something was wrong.
Lucy for the second time today asked "Are you ok y/nn, all of us are pretty worried about you". Beth said "Yeah, the whole team are and we want to know what's been up with you?, what did Sarina want to talk to you about?.
Leah being the skipper she is, saw you felt a bit overwhelmed with all the questions, "Relax, one question at a time" she said with a soft smile on her face.
I want to open up I thought, but at the same thing I don't.. why does it have to be so hard? Am I going to get judged, I know what Sarina told me but still".
"Babe" Lucy said "What is going on in that pretty mind of yours?".
I felt tears starting to drop and my hands shaking on the table while my foot was bouncing like crazy. When I felt Georgia's hand on my shoulder pulling me in for a side hug I lost it.
"I have social anxiety, i have been diagnosed with it for a few months. Only Jonas and Sarina know. I take medications for it, Sarina know that something has been up with me so she asked me if some of you knew, if I took my meds today, which I forgot so I needed to take them with her.".....
It got quiet for a second and I thought I was going to die for a minute, but Lucy walked over and gave me a hug from behind.
"Why did you not tell us?" Keira asked,
"I am really sorry about that, I felt ashamed. Embarrassed for needing to take meds and not being a fully functional human being. I am not normal, I was afraid of getting treated differently"...
"And that you would secretly judge me" I said in a very low voice but the girls heard.
Millie said to me sternly "You are the best human being a person could ask for, we would never judge you ever. We only want to help, we had our suspicions about it because we saw the signs".
Rachel jumped also in and said "We've got your back babe, you are perfect the way you are, no need to be ashamed of a diagnosis that is not your fault.
Mary being the angel she is said "I kind of know how you feel, when I was at my lowest a few years ago it was hell. but I had the best people who helped me through it and now we want to be the people to help you!"
Gosh how I love all of them, they are so supporting and caring but I was still very scared because I have not told them about my nightmares and panic attacks yet.
Lucy or my so called mum asked because she knows me through and through "Is there something more you want to tell us"
"Yes, but please don't be mad", you said in a begging voice.
"Of course we won't me mad love" Keira said in a reassuring tone.
"The nightmares and panic attacks has come back and it is worse now than ever. I had a nightmare last night, that is why I could not sleep. And I have been heavily struggled with panic attacks and nightmare for a long time, because of my anxiety. A few hours before we travelled to England camp yesterday I had the worst panic attack ever. I got it under control eventually by myself after maybe an hour, but felt uneasy for the rest of the day"
"It is ok not to be ok, but this is serious, we all care and want to help you. It sucks that you have felt this way y/nn" Jordan said with the biggest smile, it looked sad but kind.
"I am really sorry about not telling, but I promise I will be more open but you need to understand it is very difficult for me" I said, "And I am sorry mom, it is not your fault. I know you were asleep when I had the nightmare but I could not bear myself to wake you, I felt embarrassed" I said to Lucy.
Lucy´s pov
"And I am sorry mom, it is not your fault. I know you were asleep when I had the nightmare but I could not bear myself to wake you, I felt embarrassed"
Hearing those words come out of my daughter´s mouth broke me. I tried not to let tears fall but it was impossible now. I am her biggest supporter and I always will be. I just want her to know that
"You are amazing, brilliant, caring, loving and all other kind words I could say! I love you so much my babygirl."
Reader´s pov again
"I love you to mom". I said to Lucy.
Leah said sternly to me "You need to go see a therapist, when we come back at arsenal again we will go twice a week and I will go with you then me, Beth and Jordan can switch who would go with you"
"Seriously?" I groaned.
"Yes", they all said sternly in sync.
"Okay then, but Leah, you, Beth, and Jordan don't need to go with me"
"But we want to" the three of them said gladly.
"Thank you" I said looking down...
"Come here y/nn" Georgia said pulling me in for a hug, I love Georgias hugs.
Every one of the girls gave me a bear crushing hug telling me
"We will always be here for you babe, just call or text or do anything. And we will be there in an eye blink for you! We are so glad you told us, now we just need to tell the others."
"Could we please do it later?" I asked nervously...
"Of course" Rachel said.
"When we are back at arsenal we gotta tell our arsenal teammates too" Beth said.
"I know I know..." I said.
"I will always support you kid, I love you so much and I will always do. You are literally my kid just not official. I would love to be your official mom tho, if you'd have me?" Lucy asked.
I looked at her in utterly shock, and the other girls looked at us in awe.
"Are you serious, please be serious?" I asked with my mouth hanging open.
"Of course, as I said I love you like my own family". Lucy told me with tears
I said loudly "Yes, of course I would want you to adopt me, it kind of feel like you already have tho but still omg".
I started crying again but this time happy tears, while I gave my mom a big hug the girls took a photo of us and gave us a hug.
The perfect group hug.
Little did y/n know that Sarina stood outside watching everything that just had happen, you telling the others about your struggles and Lucy confessing how she feel about you.
Sarina really felt like a proud mom now.
"I am really the best momager ever" Sarina said walking away chuckling with the most heartwarming smile on her face ever.
#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson#lucy bronze x reader#lucy bronze#sarina wiegman#arsenal women x reader#arsenal wfc#arsenal wfc x reader#lionesses#lionesses x reader#engwnt x reader#woso soccer#woso community#alessia russo#jordan nobbs#engwnt#woso#mary earps#keira walsh x reader#keira walsh#beth mead#georgia stanway x reader#millie bright x reader#rachel daly#england#engwnt imagine#oneshot#woso imagine#woso x reader
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Drive to survive
Charles Leclerc & leclerc!driver!reader
Summary - Netflix's drive to survive interviews Y/n and Charles Leclerc about something that caused immense issues
Warning - Cheating, car crash, panic attack, fire, crying, swearing and self doubt
Reader drives for Ferrari
Purple is flashbacks
-
Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari
"Hello, I'm Y/n Leclerc. I'm 24 years old and I race for Ferrari alongside my twin brother, Charles Leclerc" I sat in the seat just in front of the camera, my anxiety throw the roof. My last season had ended on a bad note, with some personal troubles effecting my focus on track.
The producer settled herself down just to the side of the camera with a hand full of questions and topics that we would talk through for Netflix. "How are you feeling right now?"
Taking a deep breath in and out before answering. "yeah..I think I'm good. but yet I guess I'll have to be" A nervous chuckle left my lips which earned me a look of sympathy from the producer.
Looking down at her paper, she prepared herself to ask the first question. "So how do you feel after your ending last year?" Her voice calm and collected, as if she wanted me to feel that energy, this was what I was grateful for.
It took me a second of debating, debating my answer. "Um yeah, I mean it was a hard time obviously...I had some personal problems regarding my relationship and unfortunately that had its effect on my performance" A pause to think over my answer. "Of course I should not have um let that effect my performance, which I am greatly disappointed at myself for"
-
Walking into my appartment, I noticed the absence of Theo in the open plan kitchen lounge. I searched further into the appartment. Thats where I saw Theo in my bed with another girl.
Tears were welling up in my eyes, I had been dating him since I was just twenty but yet he decided to throw that away for some girl. "What the fuck?!" Shock, betrayal and heartbreak. Thats all I felt.
That night I kicked him and his sidechick out of my appartment, wanting to see nothing of them ever again. Luckily my three brothers were coming round that evening. So when they saw me, cheeks burned with tears, they knew something happened.
~
It was the last grand prix of the season, Abu Dhabi, I was sat in p4 just awaiting for the five red lights to flash away. My head was clogged with that day, the day I got heartbroken. "Radio check, radio check" My race engineers voice came through my headset.
"Loud and clear..." Voice low and weary as I replied.
"Y/n...you can do it, just forget and clear your mind" He knew of my heartache, heck everyone knew, wanting nothing more for me to end the season on a high note.
That race was my worst race to date. I didn't finish it. It was the Abu Dhabi race where I crashed, the Abu Dhabi race where I just sat by my burning car tangled up in a panic attack. I couldn't control my breathing or my mind.
Not my finest hour, in my opinion it was my very worse.
-
Looking down at my lap, I could see my leg persistantly bumping up and down. It was hard to talk about that time. "What was your first instinct to your crash?" The producer asked her next question.
Once again my mind was casted back to that night. "Well um I remember that after I got out of my car, I couldn't stop crying and I couldn't control my breathing. I was having a panic attack and I just couldn't calm myself down"
-
It was loud. I could hear the safety team trying to calm down the fire. I could hear fans watching on from the sidelines. I could hear my race engineer trying to calm me down through my headset. I felt like I was moving away from the real world every second.
My mind couldn't focus on one thing. I felt the warmth of the fire on my body. I felt the hands of a safety team member trying to bring me back down to earth.
~
When Charles heard the red flag through his radio, his mind went straight to Y/n. Where was Y/n? Is Y/n okay? Growing up Charles grew more and more protective of his twin.
So when he saw her car and herself not in attendance of the Ferrari, he became even the more distressed. But when he saw the crash on the large television screen, he set off run towards it much to the team dismay.
Charles ran until he reached the burn car. He saw her sat there curled up in her arms.
"Bébé bébé peux-tu m'entendre? Je suis là, souffle souffle écoute mon coeur" He pulled her into himself, moving her head to rest just above his heart. Wanting her to hear his heartbeat and copy it.
Charles knew of her panic attacks, he watched them grow worse and worse as they grew up. But he always knew how to help her, calm her down and breath.
-
Charles Leclerc, Ferrari
"How did you feel when you saw your teammate and sister crash and then have a panic attack?" The producer asked the 25 year old Ferrari driver.
His eyes downcasted, that night was his nightmare. "I remember feeling um this sense of terror fill me when I saw her crash. Aside from being my teammate at Ferrari, Y/n is my twinsister. She's has always had her panic attacks but that night..." Charles felt his eye water up even at the thought.
"That night was the worst panic attack she has ever had, I don't think I'll recover from that night" Standing up from his chair, Charles walked away from the camera. Tears flooding down his cheeks.
-
Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari
"It was only when Charles came that I started to come back down to earth. It's always when he comes that I come back." It was always Charles who helped me through my panic attacks.
Charles. He has been my rock ever since forever. He had been my rock when times got rough and tough. Before each race checking on me and everyday checking on me. He knew how hard I was taking my breakup and just wanted to help me through that.
Once again, I took in another deep breath, trying to distance myself from that night. "So 2023, how are you feeling about returning to Ferrari with Charles by your side?" The producer continued.
A small smile made its way to my face. "Yeah um I'm excited of course. I love racing, I love getting behind that wheel and fighting for a place on the podium, fighting for first place" Nodding my head, with approval of my comment.
"Well thank you so much for talking with us today, I know it's hard to talk about something like that" The camera were cut off, we both stood up from our seats.
Walking out of the studio, I felt a sense of relief and solace fall on my shoulders. This replacing the deep sorrow and disappointment.
-
I heard my appartment door open and close. Walking into the kitchen lounge, Charles had a proud smile on his face. "Whats got you smile like that?" I laughed at my confusion, Charles joining in with my amused laughter.
"Lucy, your manager, just called me and she told me about your interview with Netflix today...I'm so proud of you baby sis" His tears cloud his waterline whilst tears of my own clouded my own.
Finally, I had gotten over my anxiety and my regret. I could breath again.
-
#formula one#formula one x reader#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#x sister reader#arthur leclerc#arthur leclerc x reader#lorenzo leclerc#pascale leclerc#f1#formula one x y/n#lando norris#max verstappen#daniel ricciardo#lewis hamilton#george russell#yuki tsunoda#fernando alonso#carlos sainz
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AITA for ignoring my bfs panic attack?
my(26f) bf(27m) is a sensitive person. when we are doing well, it means he can openly talk about how he's feeling, he's never been toxically masculine, and i appreciate the comfort it provides to have someone i can talk to who isn't cold and unfeeling.
when we are arguing though, it means he almost always gets really upset and cries. so even if i am bringing something up that bothers me, it somehow means i have to reassure and help HIM, even though i was the one who was originally upset.
he also tends to just get upset for almost no reason. specifically at night time. he told me that his anxiety gets worse at night, which is fair, cuz mine does too. so, at the cost of sleep, i will talk through things with him at night - but it's hard, because he is the type of person to always insist he's a terrible person, despite all my reassurance, so these night-time "issues" will last HOURS.
it's starting to become nearly every single night. i won't lie, i am becoming resentful. i'm getting maybe 3-4 hours of sleep every night. it causes me to cry in the morning and the entire day feels like shit. then i have no energy after work to do chores, so the house looks terrible. this might sound crazy but i feel like the lack of sleep is even making my depression worse. i don't have the energy to do anything fun, just make dinner, wash the dishes + do laundry, then go to bed, and repeat more night-time arguing.
last night he was crying and talking to me about his mental health, and i was totally zoned out. i know i am the asshole for that. he was upset and asked why i wouldn't help him, i need to comfort him. then he started having a panic attack. i looked at the time, it was 5:30am. i had to start work in 1 hour 30 min. i was half-asleep, and he was shaking on me. and i left the room, went to the bathroom, cried on the fuckin bathroom floor and just feel asleep there, then got up to go to work at 7am.
he refused to even look at me when he left for work (usually leaves with a kiss). i think i really messed up and now we are just going to fight more. i am ready to accept i may be the asshole here. i know it sounds cold and mean, but the lack of sleep is affecting me a lot. is this selfish? AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜
(𝐁𝐖𝐖𝐖)
(𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐄 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑)
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐘-Paige has a small panic attack before a game.
You were sitting with the rest of the crowd coach next to you you too making small talk before the game started.
“Yo Paige is freaking out she won’t listen to us” kk told you grabbing you and leading you to the locker rooms “what did I she say” you asked “that’s the thing she won’t say anything” kk told you. Once there everyone left to give you two your privacy.
You slowly made your way towards her not wanting to scare her. She had her headphones in her head in her hands one thing about her is if it wasn’t you then music was her comfort.
You carefully took off her headphones placing them next to her she still wouldn’t look up so you softly grabbed her chin lifting it for her too look at you.
“What wrong” she didn’t answer she just wrapped her arms around you not wanting to let go. “Talk to me” you softly whispered rubbing her back..”I can’t do it” Paige finally answered pulling away to look at you “what do mean” you asked confused.
“I feel like I have the whole team on my shoulders I-i mean what if w-we lose” she said beginning to panic again. “Hey,hey you’re not going to lose I promise” you said calming her down to night was a big night for her and the team if they won they could make it to the finals and possibly win that too. “now you have a game to play” you softly smiled wiping her tears away.
“You ready” you ask smiling up at her as she stood ready to play “yeah” she smiled taking your hand in her giving it a kiss before you both walked out.
She let go running onto the court with the rest of the team and you took your seat back next to coach. “She good” he asked you.
“She will be after tonight win” you smiled. The game started the other team making the first shot you looked at Paige she shook her head you knew what was running through her head you always did.
That’s one thing Paige loved about you with out asking you always knew what was wrong and was always there to help.
It was now the end of the game just a few seconds on the clock it was a pretty close to the other team winning which made you nervous but you had to have faith.
Fingers crossed you watch the ball get past to kk this was it if she was to make it the team could move forward to the next game the stadium went dead silent and time froze everyone’s eyes were on the ball as it made its way into the net.
The crowd went crazy. The team ran towards kk celebrating around her Paige Brock away from the team and ran to you.
“Told you” you smiled. She wrapped her arms around you smiling.
#paige bueckers#kk arnold#paige bueckers x reader#uconn huskies#uconn wbb#azzi fudd#lesbians#fyp#tumblr fyp#viral
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bug friend
summary: chris finds a bug while the four of you are live streaming. based on that one live where chris finds a bug on the stairs!
word count: 676
warnings: use of y/n, a few curse words, mentions of bugs, mostly platonic but slight yn&chris pairing if you squint. lowercase intentional.
an; i promise im getting to the requests! i just wanted to post this one before i went to bed for the night, heart you all.
briefly proofread
||navigation||
sitting in the guest bedroom by yourself, you join the boys in their fortnite lobby to start the live stream of the night.
“y/n, are you in? where’s your character?”
“yeah i’m in, nick how do i dance? i forgot how to play on keyboard” this is your first time live streaming with the boys. it’s also the first time you’ve played on a computer rather than an xbox.
nick explains the basic controls, and the four of you begin the stream, now on your second match of the night.
“y/n why is your camera off, has it been off the whole time?” matt reads the chat, realizing they had forgotten to check that your webcam was on.
“oh wait, was i supposed to have it on? i don’t even know how to do that”
“chris, you’re spectating go help her” chris gets up from his spot at his desk, making his way up the stairs to you.
minutes later, chris still hasn’t gotten to your spot in the house, leaving the three of you questioning.
“dude where’s chris, he’s still not back”
“he probably stopped to get a drink on his way up, he’s coming”
“MATT” chris sits back down at his monitor, explaining why he didn’t make it to your room.
“there’s a bug the size of my fucking fist on the stairs” hearing the word bug, the rest of you immediately are sent into chaos.
“what??” you question loudly as the other boys begin to cry out as well.
“NO- NO” nick panics as matt starts to logically think.
“matt i can’t go upstairs, she’s going to have to go without a webcam”
“alright where is it, i’ll kill it”
“matt please take a photo- please please please” your laughter is quickly interrupted as chris tells matt that the insect is flying.
“it was down at the bottom like flying around and shit”
“it’s flying???” you and matt yell in unison, you beginning to panic. bugs are NOT your thing, never have been.
“chris are you serious?? it’s flying?” “oh matt you have to kill it, i can’t sleep here if it’s not dead”
matt leaves his room to hunt the bug, leaving you nick and chris to talk to the stream by yourselves.
“dude he better kill it you know i don’t do bugs”
“you don’t do bugs?? you’re like older than me, aren’t you supposed to be a big girl?” chris questions you sarcastically, earning a scoff from you and nick.
“maybe, but you’re the man, you should be opting to protect your lady” you laugh, before matt returns bearing bad news.
entering chris’ room, matt informs chris that he was unable to find the bug, meaning that it was still out for attack on the house.
“dude i got all the way to your room and there’s no bug” chris gasps
“shut my door then matt- shut my door bro it’s humongous”
“chris is sleeping with a companion tonightttt” nick sings, returning to the game.
“yeah, and it’s not going to be me. sorry chris, i can’t sleep in there with you if your bug friend will be joining us” you laugh to yourself.
“bro- i’ll go look” chris sighs, getting up to kill the bug, before returning with no luck.
“yeah no- sorry chris, i can’t sleep in your room like a sitting duck waiting for ambush” chris scoffs, answering quickly.
“what, are you sleeping alone then? i highly doubt that” rolling his eyes, chris smirks thinking he convinced you to sleep in his room.
“of course not, what am i, crazy? i’m sleeping with nick” proud of yourself, you pull your legs into the rolling chair that you’re sat in.
“nicks room is closer, and safer, i see no issues here” chris scoffs at your childish response before responding,
“whatever nick, you can have her. she kicks in her”
“i do not! chris stop it.” the four of you laugh to yourselves before returning to the stream until it was time to sleep for the night.
|| likes, comments, and reblogs always appreciated :)
🏷️ @bananabread-nana ||
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#pls reblog#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo edit#sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo x yn
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You've made your bed, now lie in it
Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader
Summary: 3 times you and Lockwood have to share a bed, and one time you want to share a bed.
Warnings: one bed trope, fake dating trope, fluff, only kissing, no smut, english is not my native language
Word Count: 3.9k
After a longer break I'm finally back. Enjoy!
The first time you and Lockwood, an insolent prick of a boss, had to share a bed, was comparable to a train wreck. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t.
This was how you felt, when you stared at the way too small bed in front of you. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. And even if you could, where did you want to look? At the face of your far too handsome boss, hell no! Or at the floor, which was so dirty, that you were sure, that nobody cleaned it for at least a year? No, not happening.
“I will not sleep on the floor”, you stated without removing your eyes from the bed.
“Me neither!”
Hearing his voice made you seethe. Maybe he was your boss, but he wasn’t your friend. George and Lucy were your friends, but never him.
“You booked this flop house!”, you protested.
You had a mission two hours away from London, which required you to stay for two days. Luck wasn't on your side when Lucy and George got sick four days ago, leaving only you and Lockwood to drive up here.
“But I’m the boss, so I will not sleep on the floor.”
What would you give for the opportunity to get rid of him right now? But you were too tired to kill him, you just wanted to sleep.
“Fine, then we will share”, you bit out, ready to bite off his head.
“Fine”, he shouted back, but if you weren't mistaken, his voice sounded a bit hoarse.
Far too late, you realize what you had agreed on. You wanted to curse, but you kept your mouth shut. It was far too late to back down. He would never let you live that down. So, you had no chance. Turning your back on him, you went to your bag and took off your sweater.
“What are you doing”, the panic in his voice brought a smile to your lips.
“Getting ready for bed, what else does it look like?”
Not wanting to give the poor boy a heart attack, you put on a shirt, before unclasping your bra. Behind you, you could hear Lockwood taking a sharp breath. But you couldn’t care less. Never would you put yourself through a painful night in a bra. Opening the button of your jeans was the last straw.
“I’m going to the bathroom”, rushing past you, Lockwood loudly slammed the door shut behind him. You couldn’t help but smile, maybe you had to share a bed, but you totally won this round.
When you left the bathroom, after brushing your teeth, your eyes almost popped out of your head when you saw your boss, who had already made himself comfortable on the bed.
“Where is your shirt?”
Was this his revenge for the bra? Would the entire night be psychological warfare? Not that you weren’t ready. You were ready since you stepped your first foot into Portland Row and realized, that your new boss was a jerk.
“I always sleep like this.”
Your eyes narrowed, not sure if that was a lie or the truth.
“Don’t come crying to me, if you’re too cold this night.” With these words, you slipped into bed next to him.
“I will not be cold”, he protested, and you doubted it. The room was fucking cold, you weren’t even sure if the heater was working. But you were too tired to argue with Lockwood about this, what didn’t mean, that you weren’t ready to tell him “I told you so”, when he would admit it.
“Touch me and I will kill you”, you threatened before turning off the light. Next to you, Lockwood let out a humorless laugh, which shacked the whole bed.
“Trust me, I have the same desire to touch you as I do to touch a ghost.”
“Great, we sorted that out“, you snapped back, unable to let him have the last word.
For a moment there was only silence, broken only by rustling as you both tried to find a comfortable sleeping position. Which was harder than it sounded like. The bed was way too small, and you would rather die than to cuddle with Anthony fucking Lockwood. His body was only inches away from yours, and you could feel the heat he was radiating.
“Stop hogging the blanket”, hissed Lockwood, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.
“Maybe you wouldn’t need it, if you would wear a shirt like a normal person”, you spew back.
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck me yourself, you coward”, you didn’t know what was coming over you. You didn't know what made you say those words, but in the future, you would blame it on being tired.
Lockwood didn't need to be told twice. Hungrily, his lips crashed against yours and with all your anger you kissed him back, while clawing your nails in his naked shoulder. This wasn’t how you had imagined your first kiss with Lockwood. You always thought it would be sweet and slow, not raw and angry.
“I hate you so much”, you whispered against his lips, and Lockwood let out a chuckle.
“Believe me, I hate you more.”
You woke up to the sunbeams dancing on your nose. It was much warmer, than the night before, maybe the heater, had started to work overnight. This thought vanished, when you realized, that the heat was coming from your pillow, or better speaking the body you used as pillow. Suppressing a scream, you hastily tried to get away, only to back up a little too far and therefore to fall out of the small bed. You came up with a hard thud that woke up Lockwood.
“Y/N?”, sleepily Lockwood looked over the edge of the bed, and you suddenly remembered what you had done last night. A blushed creeped up your face, while you thought about the kisses you shared. At least you stopped, before it escalated. You could never forgive yourself and your morals if you had slept with Anthony Lockwood, you hated this arrogant prick.
“Are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”, running his finger through his swoon worthy hair, he gave you one of those arrogant smiles you hated so much. Seeing this, you wanted to wrap your fingers around his neck and just squeeze. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of saying that you were throwing yourself at him. So, you just glared up at him.
“Yes, I want to get as far as possible away from you, and I think we'd be doing both of us a favor if we forgot what happened last night and never talked about it again.”
For a moment, Lockwood looked at you with an expression you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't pure hate, at least not just.
“Last night was a mistake.”
Even if it was your idea to forget everything about last night, it hurt to hear him calling it a mistake. However, you would never give him the satisfaction of showing him that.
“At least we agree on one thing.”
The second time you and Lockwood shared a bed was nothing more than a mistake.
It was shortly before Christmas, Lucy already left Portland Row to take a train to one of her sisters and George was already by his family. You had the choice between spending Christmas with your family or with Lockwood at Portland Row. It was like choosing between Scylla and Charybdis. But before you could make up your mind, Lockwood felt ill, and you weren’t the heartless bitch, he made you out to be. You didn’t want him to die, even if you often said it. But you needed this job and without Lockwood there wasn’t an agency. Therefore, you decided to stay and care about him, so he didn’t catch a pneumonia and died a painful dead, even if he deserved it.
It was all going as well as you could expect it. Lockwood was too ill to fight with you, and you only wished for his dead once or twice a day, so far less than normal. Everything was going well, till you started to fell sick. Of course, this idiot couldn’t keep his germs to himself.
You were shacking from the cold you couldn’t escape, as you went up to his room, to bring him his dinner. Normally you tried to do this as fast as possible, in and out, before he even had the chance to say anything to you. So, you didn’t have to see him longer than needed, and he didn’t have to see you longer than needed. Nothing had changed since the night you shared a bed and kisses. You still hated each other with burning passion. But this time as you stepped foot into enemy territory, aka Lockwood’s room, you realized that this was right now the warmest room in the whole house.
Setting down the tray, you carefully took a seat on the only free space in his room, the edge of his bed. You wouldn’t stay long, you told yourself. Just long enough to drive the cold from your bones.
“You’re looking worse than usual, I didn’t know it was possible”, Lockwood’s annoying voice, broke your peace.
“Says the person who looks like a walking corpse”, you bite back.
“You got sick.”
“No, I’m fine.”
You didn't know who you were trying to convince with this lie. Anyone with eyes in their head could see that you weren't feeling well. However, Lockwood was too exhausted to argue with you. He just started to eat his dinner, while you closed your eyes to find the strength to stand up and leave this warm behind you.
The next time you opened your eyes, you weren’t sitting on the edge of Lockwood’s bed, you were lying in it. You weren’t sure, how it happened, but you were sure it was just an honest mistake, which could happen to everyone. Feeling too sick to panic, all you could just concentrate on was that you were finally warm. You managed to successfully ignore Lockwood's arm over your hip and his steady breathing on your neck. This was a problem you would deal with when you felt not like dying any minute. Closing your eyes for a second time, you drifted away.
The first thing you realized, when you woke up the next morning was, that Lockwood’s warm was missing. He had sneaked out of his own bed, while you were still sleeping. So, this was the perfect chance for you to sneak away to not have to face Lockwood after accidentally falling asleep in his bed. But you couldn’t muster the strength to move. You could just lay there and wait for your doom, aka that Lockwood returned.
It didn’t take long for him to come back. In his hands, he held the tray you used the last days to bring him food.
“I brought you breakfast”, giving you the tray, he got in the bed beside you. If someone had told you, that you would spend Christmas eating breakfast with Lockwood in his bed, you would have laughed and called the person delusional. But here you were. Neither of you had the energy to argue, so you both just ate in silence.
“You should try to get more rest”, Lockwood told you, after both of you finished eating, and he was right, not that you would ever say this out loud.
“You too, you still look like shit”, maybe he was a little bit fitter than you, but he was worlds away from being healthy.
“Fine”, he bit back, another sign, that he was everything but healthy. Normally he would have said something mean in response, but he just laid down beside you. For a moment, nobody said something. Then you shuffled a little bit in his direction, attracted by the warmth he radiated. He acknowledged this with raised eyebrows.
“I’m just cold, don't imagine anything about it.”
“I would never!”
The rest of the holidays you spent together in his bed. It was a surprise for both of you, that at the end, when you both felt better, no one had torn off the other’s head.
When Lucy and George came back and asked how your holidays were, you both just shrugged. What really happened was probably a secret that you both would take to your grave. You quickly found back in your everyday life of hating each other, and it was almost as if none of this had ever happened. But only almost.
The third time you had to share a bed with Lockwood would have been avoidable if Lucy had been a little bit more cooperative.
Lockwood and Co. had a new, very lucrative case. You were hired to secure a very dangerous source. The catch was, that the owner was one of those weirdos who was a little too enthusiastic about the occult. He was planning a two-day seance with an overnight stay at his manor, and your client had managed to get you an invitation. The only problem was that the invitation was for one guest and a plus-one. There was no question that Lockwood would go. But your team couldn't agree on who would accompany him. George wasn’t an option, that would bring too much attention. That only left you and Lucy.
“We all know that I’m a bad liar, nobody would believe me, that I’m Lockwood’s girlfriend”, Lucy stated. Normally you loved Lucy, she was your best friend. But right now, you could have punched her.
“As if anyone would think I was dating Lockwood”, you countered and directed to the asshole himself, you said: “I would never date someone like you.”
“And I would never date someone like you”, he fired back, and you didn’t have to look at Lucy and George to see them rolling their eyes, like always when Lockwood and you decided to argue.
“With the sexual tension between you, no one will doubt that you are dating”, Lucy butted in and could be glad, that looks didn’t kill otherwise she would be six feet under.
“There is no sexual tension, only hate”, you argued hotly.
You would never admit that there was maybe sexual tension, because if you would, you would think about it, you would think about the kisses in this one fatal night and that was a way, you didn’t want to go. Because if you would go down this path, there was no return to normal. Therefore, it was way easier to tell yourself and anybody else, that you hated Anthony J. Lockwood with burning passion.
“But Lucy is right, Y/N should join Lockwood”, George the little backstabber joined Lucy’s side. Knowing when a fight was lost, you ran your hand over your face.
“This can only go wrong.”
You should be right. You weren’t even an hour at the manor, and you hated everything. The weirdos got on your nerves with their own stupidity. Lockwood's arm had been around your waist for almost 43 minutes, and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off and hit him with it to dead. Yeah, you were everything than happy. I didn’t help, that Lockwood had decided that fake girlfriend wasn’t fancy enough and had given you an engagement ring before he introduced you to everyone as his fiancée. You were dead and in hell, otherwise you couldn’t explain, how you landed in this situation. At least the ring was pretty.
“We should sneak away and look for the source”, you whispered, only loud enough for him barely to hear you. Slowly, Lockwood nodded to let you know that he heard you. Calculating, he let his gaze wander about the other people in the room, probably to find the best way to disappear unnoticed.
“We should kiss”, he said after a moment, and somehow managed to seem totally serious.
“What?”, you almost choked from sheer surprise.
“If we make out, no one will be surprised if we disappear, everyone will just think that we were looking for a quiet corner to have a little fun.”
Hearing this, you grimaced. But he wasn’t wrong. Nobody would think much about you sneaking off when you first put on a show. Without a verbal response, you grabbed Lockwood by his tie and pulled him down to your height. Hungrily, you caught his lips with yours. Lockwood didn’t waste any time and pulled your body against his. Eagerly his hands roamed over your body, and you had the feeling, that this meant a little bit more to both of you, than just a show for a case. Not that you would ever admit it.
When your lungs were screaming for air, you reluctantly broke the kiss.
“You’re actually a really good kisser”, Lockwood smiled down at you, and it felt like your stomach was riding a rollercoaster.
“You’re actually very average”, you lied like the liar you were. But the truth was, there was nothing you would like more than to kiss him again.
“Like, you have kissed so many guys to know what average is. Feel free to admit it, I’m a good kisser.”
Seeing his arrogant smile, you just rolled your eyes.
“Let’s go, so we didn’t kiss for nothing!”
Together you walked through the manor, till you found the library, your first guess for the location of the source. You just started to look around when you heard steps coming in your direction. Before you could find a good hiding space, the door opened and nobody else than the owner of the manor, the weirdo you wanted to steal from, was standing there.
“Miss, did you get lost? The library is not open for the guest”, he told you, and you tried your best innocent smile. But Lockwood appeared beside you before you could try to lie your way out of it.
“I’m so sorry, Sir. My fiancée and I were just trying to find a quiet room”, he gave the owner his best Lockwood smile, while his arms found again his way around your hip.
“Then I would suggest trying the bedroom assigned to you.”
Under his caution eyes, you and Lockwood walked out of the library.
“I saw the source”, Lockwood whispered in your ear, at the moment the door closed behind you.
“Did you take it?”
“No, didn’t have the chance, but we can do it tomorrow, right now we should return to our bedroom, or do you want to socialize a little bit more with the other guest?” Hell no!
“Let’s go.”
Of course, your bedroom had only one bed. At least it was big. You and Lockwood could both sleep in it without touching each other. Without saying much and more important without arguing, you both got ready for bed. Of course, Lockwood decided against wearing a shirt.
“I hope one night you will freeze to death”, you mumbled while slipping under the blanket.
“I’m too hot for this and considering how you always cuddle up to me at night, you know it too.”
Rarely, you were lost for words, but this was one of these moments.
“Keep dreaming, Lockwood”, you shot back, but both of you knew that this was a lame response. As a reaction, Lockwood just gave you a cocky grin.
“We'll see that tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, we will.”
You firmly resolved to keep a lot of distance from Lockwood and his tempting warmth that night.
But waking up the next morning, you realized that you could even break the best resolutions. Like this one. Lockwood was like a mobile heater, and that was too tempting for you when you were sleeping. This night was no difference.
As you had been asleep, you had cuddled yourself in Lockwood’s side, and he had draped an arm around you, to pull you even further against him.
With a bright red face, you tried to free yourself from his hug. But your movement woke him up.
“Look like I was right, I’m hot, and you know it”, sleepy, he smiled up at you.
Torn back and forth, you closed and opened your mouth. You weren’t sure if you should kiss him or choke him till he died. You did neither.
“Or maybe you are just so touch starved that you can’t help but hold me in your sleep”, you countered.
“Maybe, but who could blame me?”
Too stunned to speak, you just stared at him. Was he flirting with you? Or were you just hallucinating? It must be the second. Maybe you were still dreaming.
“It feels really nice to hold you in my arms.”
“But aren’t we hating each other?”, a bit overwhelmed, you ran your hand through your hair. You were here to steal a source, not to talk abut feeling with Lockwood, you weren’t prepared for this.
“I never hated you, and I think you also don’t hate me.”
That was a bold statement, but maybe it was the truth. You weren’t sure what you felt for Lockwood. He had been an asshole to you from day one. And you hadn’t been better. Since the beginning, he had something that you just wanted to kiss or kill him. Because you were an insecure mess, you had decided to be mean to him rather than get hurt by him.
“But why were you such an asshole?”, you asked, curious.
“Because you let me something feel, I don’t like. In your presence, I feel so giddy and nervous, not like the agency head I should be.”
“We are such idiots. You are an idiot, but maybe I’m the biggest idiot of all. Seeing your face let me feel stronger emotions than I ever felt before, and I’m not sure if I want to kill or kiss you for it.”
“Then kiss me.”
He didn’t have to tell you twice. You kissed him like you always wanted to be kissed, like nothing in the world mattered to you beside him. And maybe this was true, the first thing you thought about was normally him and the last thing which crossed your mind before falling asleep was his dorky smile. You loved him, and you were an idiot, that it took you so long to realize it.
The first time you wanted to share a bed with Lockwood was after you and him returned successfully from your mission. You stole the source without getting caught, and after you told Lucy and George how you did it, you were sitting in the living room.
Lucy and George already went to bed and you both were peacefully silent. The only sound was the cracking of the logs in the fireplace, while Lockwood played softly with your hand in his. You were still wearing the ring he had given you. You had wanted to give it back to him, but he insisted that you keep it.
“Do you need a personal heater this night?”, Lockwood broke the silence, and you gave him a bashful smile.
“Maybe?”
“Are my eyes deceiving me or is that a smile, my love?”
“Oh, shut up.”
You were still laughing when Lockwood pulled you up from the sofa. Hand in hand, you walked up the stairs to his bedroom and for the first time in your life, you wanted to share a bed with him. So, this was what you did. Slipping under the blanked with him, you let him pull yourself in his arms. With your head laying on his naked chest and a happy smile, you slowly drifted away.
#anthony lockwood#lockwood & co#lockwood & co fanfic#lockwood and co#anthony lockwood x reader#lockwood netflix#fanfic#lockwood x reader#anthony bloody lockwood
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could we have a story that warms up my heart and makes me feel gushy and mushy and eeeeeeek!!!!!!! I’m in need of something to ‘awwwwwww’ to and I feel like you’re perfect for that 🥹🫶🏻
Tiny Moves
JJ Maybank x fem!reader
Summery: You and JJ have only been friends for a little while, but to him it feels like he’s known you forever and he’s so sure he’ll always want you forever. Inspired by the song Tiny Moves by Bleachers. I wrote this with JJ Maybank in mind because I’ve been on an OBX kick recently but it could definitely be rewritten to fit other people!
JJ Maybank was a notorious man whore, to put it delicately. Sleeping with any tourist who even batted their eyelashes at him, and any other girl from the cut who was desperate enough to sneak away from the party for a blurred night with the blonde.
He didn’t mind the status, being the guy they all went to. In his mind, no strings attached was the best thing for him. It meant no pressure to feel things and no guilt for turning down any girl who had stupidly fallen for him.
That was, until he met her. Y/n Y/l/n, a friend of a friend and his former lab partner from middle school. He didn’t mean to fall for her, but then again, who really plans on falling in love, let alone with some girl JJ wouldn’t even show up to biology class for when he was still on the brink of becoming a teenager.
He remembers the messy braids tied in her hair and the way the safety glasses left faint marks behind on her face after long hours spent leaning over a plastic beaker mixing different colored fluids to make a rainbow.
Back then, he never really paid her any attention. What she did or didn’t do never peaked his interest, he would much rather have spent his time with his cheek pressed against the palm of his hands while he looked out the window like he was in prison. Now, suddenly and without warning, it did matter.
JJ wanted all of her tiny moves, he wanted to forever remember the silly marks from the glasses on her face or how her nose would scrunch and the skin by her eyes would crinkle when she would smile. It made his chest feel funny, wanting all of the silly little nonsensical things from her, things that would never give him any kind of personal gain but all things he couldn’t stop praying for.
He remembers how she stopped by one day without warning in the middle of January, stumbling over the piles of leaves piled up by the front steps of the chateau. She was wearing a soft white dress that swayed around her ankles in the wind and had blue painted on her finger nails. She was just giving back his notebook he let her borrow when she was out of class with a cold a few days prior to her visit, and truthfully he had just stolen Pope’s notes and taken the credit, but the soft smile on her face and the dimples by her cheeks made it impossible for him to confess the truth.
When she left, he felt the insatiable burning in his chest and the intense pounding of his heart against his ribcage. He placed Kiara’s hand over his chest wearily, only driving himself into more of a panic as he declared to her that he believed he was having a heart attack. He felt so funny and sluggish that he was so sure of it, but Kiara only swatted his hand away and laughed with her whole stomach as she realized his feelings before him.
“Jayj, you’re in love!” She said it so loudly, he had to put a hand over her mouth and hush her until she promised not to say anything to anyone.
And how could he have not seen it? The tiniest moves she made, it was like watching his whole world shake. A simple smile or a polite giggle from across the campfire at one of his half decent jokes and he was redder than the sky at sundown and hotter than the lively flame in front of him.
He doesn’t know how it happened, or why he suddenly decided to start paying her any kind of special attention in their friendship, or even why it was her. He always thought he’d end up with Kiara because at least if he was unloveable, him and her had made a pact to get married if they hadn’t met anyone by thirty. But now, all of his past meant nothing to him when he had the something he didn’t even know he was looking to find.
“Stay still.” Her voice ordered playfully, taking my wrist in her hands and blowing a cool breeze across my fingertips.
The overwhelming smell of nail polish mixed with the addictive smell of freshness in her room, her pillows fluffy and her blankets piled all over her bed. I knew that John B was surely going to give me a hard time when I walked into his backyard with bright orange nails, but when Y/n finished up her own hands and looked up at me all doe eyed asking if I would let her paint mine the same color so we could match, I didn’t even think about the names he would call me before I said yes. All I could think about was how happy she would be if I were to give in.
“Smells so bad.” I gagged, trying to pull my hands from her grip playfully, nose crinkling at the chemical like smell that covered my hands.
She laughed, throwing her head back as she grabbed both of my hands this time, despite one of them already being dry and shook them in her own hands.
“You’ll mess it up you dork!” She leaned forward, practically laughing into my chest at my faux hurt that I painted across my face. I laughed too, but not nearly as hard. I was too focused on her.
I’d only really been friends with Y/n for a year. She had only started tagging along just last June, and yet, she consumed all of my thoughts more than anyone I’d ever known. I wanted to be around her all the time, make her laugh just so I could hear the breathiness in her voice as she claimed she couldn’t breathe because her ribs hurt too much. I’d only really known her for a year, but it felt like we’d been intertwined like this forever, and I’m certain I’ll feel like this forevermore.
It was like Kiara had told me in January when she first came by in her pretty white dress and a sweet smile on her face, I was in love and I loved her.
“I love you.” Her giggles sputtered off into one final breath of air squeaking from her throat, and her eyes stretched in a way that confirmed that what I had said was out loud and not just the phrase I repeated to her in my head over and over again every time we spoke.
And my whole world shook violently when I got no response, feeling my heart breaking for that silent second and only hearing the ringing in my ears accompanied by the humming of the fan in the corner of her room.
And then, suddenly, her hands were on my cheeks, lips pressed to mine and eyelashes tickling my cheeks as they fluttered shut. She tasted like strawberry chapstick and minty toothpaste, I couldn’t help but feel completely consumed by her when all I could feel was her. Her hands, her lips, her coconut shampoo.
My hands found the back of her neck, massaging the skin between my fingers to deepen the press of her lips to mine like if I weren’t, she would slip away and I would wake from this blissful dream of mine.
When we pulled away, I found her eyes looking straight into mine, lips swollen and pink from where we were connected just a moment ago.
Then, suddenly, she was melting into a fit of giggles that bubbled from her chest, eyes closing as her forehead rested against my shoulder. For a second, I thought she thought it was funny, but then I felt myself fall into the same static feelings of pure excitement, happiness and love that she was feeling. That same funny feeling spreading from my chest to ever limb in my body until I was buzzing with it, blushing until I was sure my whole face was beet red.
“Why are you laughing?” I laughed along with her, pulling her head to rest against mine with both of my hands, feeling her moving against my forehead with each giggle that escaped her lips. Her hands found mine, pulling them down to her lap where she could brush her hands over my knuckles and smile at polish, which was now worn away.
“You smudged it!” She breathed out like it was the funniest thing in the world, and I knew it felt like it to her because of the leftover nerves and giddiness resting in her stomach, the same fluttery feeling I felt as well.
“Eh, you can fix them, right?” I didn’t let her answer, pressing my lips to hers again and holding her hands in mine. I’d only just gotten a taste and I was already addicted.
Maybe I was having a heart attack, but I wouldn’t know the difference with all the love pumping through my body. At least if I was, I would die knowing I finally got the girl.
And all of her tiny moves.
#jj maybank x pogue!reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank fluff#jj mayback x reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank
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