#i didn't know such a feeling existed. to read your old writing
Text
You might (probably not) have seen a post from me today saying I was feeling empty and exhausted. I deleted that because I figured nobody would wanna see me cry on main all the time, so yeah... I feel better now though, don't worry.
Still I had very self-indulgent thoughts today, that I will share because three cheers for turning bad energy into positive stuff:
Headcanons for Astarion comforting his partner
Oh gods, you're almost already crying: your lips are already wobbling and your eyes are dangerously wet. What's a vampire gonna do about it?
Astarion is really lost about what to do, but he knows for sure: he really doesn't want you to cry or feel sad
"What's wrong, love? Did I do something wrong?"
He's definitely worrying and overthinking about if he's the reason behind your tears
The rock dropping from his undead heart when you eagerly shake your head though
So he awkwardly drags you into a hug and strokes your back while you just let tears flow
He holds you as long as you need to, just being there and willing that you'll feel better soon
"Do you want to talk about it, my heart? Maybe putting it into words will help you send it away."
Astarion will get better about this the more he learns about his partner and he's eager to be prepared the next time this happens: for example, learning what kind of hot beverage you love, to prepare it (specially with something fancy to make it even better and he calls it "à l'Astarion" with a wink and it makes you giggle with it already)
Astarion will absolutely try and make you feel better by cracking absolutely stupid jokes: "You know, I really didn't think water elves did exist. But you're the living proof aren't you, my sweet sad darling?" (The jokes are terrible... but that's why they cracked you up so much)
He'll also really listen to what you tell him helps and he'll try his best to make you happy again as soon as possible
Sometimes that entails just letting it all go while he simply holds you, humming a lullaby and swaying you in his arms
He nuzzles his face in your hair, the top of your head
Also lots of loving kisses of course
Sometimes he just talks and talks until you peacefully drift into dreams in his arms and he'll smile at you, seeing how your face has become relaxed again and wrap you in a blanket on the sofa or carry you to bed carefully
And after a good cathartic cry: "Feel better now, love? Then let me run you a bath - and join you if you want..."
Then sometime he'll have it figured out and just needs a bit of input to figure out what will help: "No no, my sweet, you will not just sit here and spiral! Do you want to go for a walk?" You shake your head. "Smash some old mugs and curse all the Gods?" More head-shaking. "Want me to grab ink and paper and write down an action plan with you?" Still head shaking. "Alright, darling, you're making this a hard nut to crack. How about I make you some fresh tea, wrap you in some blanket and read you a Drizzt story?" You eagerly nod your head and wrap your arms around the suddenly flustered vampire, also maybe rubbing your snotty nose on his shirt a little. Entirely on accident of course. "Ugh, and you're also getting some tissues, you nasty little gremlin."
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#astarion ancunin#fanfiction#astarion x tav#baldur's gate iii#bg3 spoilers#baldurs gate#astarion x mc#astarion x oc#astarion x reader#bg3#headcanons#astarion headcanons#imagine#comforting#poro headcanons
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
All for you
skz and the vows they'd write for you.
fluff. gn reader. word count-3.9k. listen to video games by lana del rey if you can!!!
a.n: thank you to @a-cute-french-fry and @dorisnumber1fan for brainstorming some of these with me <3 i made myself very delulu with this so ENJOY. happy 3k!!! i love you all muahhh <3
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 chan ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹
Chan's warm hands are in yours, fingers tangled with one another tightly- like the sturdy roots of an ancient tree.
“Baby,” he calls out softly, and you can already feel tears well up in your eyes at the tenderness in his voice. His thumb reaches out instinctively to wipe the lone tear that managed to escape. His right hand remains on your cheek, cradling it gently.
“Seungmin always liked to joke that I was nearly half-fifty-two. Then half fifty-three on my next birthday,” he starts, as a faint giggle escapes your lips. “That's how I counted time too, with the different days I lived… That is until I met you.” He pauses, a shaky breath leaving him and crashing onto you. “Suddenly I was no longer twenty-six. I was one week old since I met you. Three months since I’ve loved you. And then five years since you changed my life. Years no longer marked the passage of my time. It was you who marked the passage of me.”
“I always had this idea in my head, that I was only worth loving easily. If I diluted all my problems, concealed all my flaws and insecurities to please the ones around me, only then was I deserving of love. But you...” His eyes soften, even more so than they were before. “But you loved me, you loved me on my happy days, and on my darkest ones. You loved me, even when I couldn't understand it, even when I couldn't see what was there to care for in me. So, thank you, for showing me that I am worthy of love, simply because I am me. Thank you for choosing to be patient with me. You don't always know what to do to help, nor do I, but you try, and I try, and isn't that what love is, in the end? To take time out of your day to try, for the person you love?” His voice cracks, as sudden tears wash over his rosy cheeks.
“And I love you. I love to love you. And I cannot not love you, not when my heart beats to the melody of your existence. I promise that even when I’m eighty, I’ll always try to love you better, softer, gentler. I'll never stop trying to be worthy of your love, to be worthy of being yours. Only ever yours.”
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 minho ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹
“Angel,” Minho smiles softly, the back of his hand brushing tenderly against your cheek. “I love you, so so much. You know that, right? I probably don't say it as much as I feel it, because I always do. Every second of my existence is spent loving you. Even when I’m not fully awake, and still floating in that hazy space between dreams and consciousness, I can still feel it deep within me that I love you. It is the one thing that ties me back to life itself.”
“And I never... I never imagined that I could adore someone this much. So much that I always think of you, always miss you, even when you're near. Because I feel as if I missed out on years of loving you, back when we didn't know each other. And I- I want to love you, hard enough so it'd feel as if I’ve done it for your entire life.” He's blinking repeatedly, you're surprised he can still read the words scribbled on his paper. You can sense that the tears glistening in his eyes are on the verge of spilling, so you grab his hand and squeeze it gently. 'I'm here', you silently say- he understands.
“Thank you for holding my hand. Now, and every time I’ve needed you. Thank you for being here for me, with me. I... I always thought that people like me were destined to be alone. But- but being with you feels like I’m with myself. There's no need for me to pretend. Thank you for not making me pretend anymore. You are my mirror, you and I are one, and I- I hope...” He brings your hand to his chest, where his heart beats wildly- 'stay with me' it sings to you.
“I hope you can always feel my love for you. Now and when we're too old sitting on the patio of our home, and my hand is still in yours. Because my heart belongs to you, it beats for you and I breathe for you.”
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 changbin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹
“You're breathtaking,” Changbin whispers in awe, his eyes tracing the contours of your body with each lingering look, like the brush of a skilled artist.
“So are you,” you giggle, but he shakes his head vehemently, drawing nearer to you. “You are the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I can't believe I’m marrying you,” he chuckles in disbelief, before grabbing your hand and twirling you around, showing you off for all to see.
“Look at who I’m marrying!” he shouts with bursting excitement, as he dips you down, his nose grazing yours gently, a soft touch amidst the loud exclamations around you.
“Still sure you want to marry him?!” Seungmin shouts from his seat and you giggle, wrapping your arm around Changbin’s waist. “I do!”
Your laughter gradually fades, as Changbin clears his throat. His head is tilted to the side, a small, incredulous smile drawn on his lips as he contemplates the loveliness of this moment- of marrying you.
“My baby. My beautiful baby. I think this is the happiest day of my life. But again, every day is a happy one with you. I... I've never known that love could be unconditional, that loving someone would feel as simple as breathing. Until you. Loving you doesn't feel like I’m taking something out of my being, and giving it to you. But rather, I’m nurturing something within me, a blossoming tender emotion that grows within my soul. Loving you...” he steps forward, cradling your cheeks in his warm hands. “Loving you makes me happy, immensely happy. Because you are the sunset that makes people stop in their tracks to admire it. You are the beautiful scenery that gives hope to everyone who witnesses it. And you make me feel alive. More than I’ve ever been before you.”
“And I promise...” he pauses, wide eyes trying their best to embrace each feature drawn on your face. “I promise to love you more today than I did yesterday. I promise to shoulder the pain that slips through the cracks in your heart, the one that you try so hard to conceal from me. I promise to hear your silent cries and to hug you until your soul stops bleeding. I promise to see you, even when you try to hide from me. I promise to hurt if it means you'll feel less pain. And I-” his voice trembles as it washes over your old scars, delicately erasing them from your memory.
“I will love you. When the pain seems too big, I will love you. And when your happiness shines the brightest, I will love you. I am madly, irrevocably, desperately in love with you. My heart is tangled in yours.”
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 hyunjin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹
“My love,” Hyunjin begins before abruptly stepping forward, pressing his lips onto yours. The kiss is dizzying and sweet, it reminds you of the figs he hand-fed you yesterday- honey dripping down his tongue onto yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers once he steps back. “I couldn't help myself. You're so pretty,” he admits sheepishly, and you giggle, too in love to ever mind.
“Where was I? Right, hi, my love. Writing these vows was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Not because I didn't know what to say, but there is so much I wish to express, to talk about when it comes to you. How my soul seems to burn for you. How you’re my last love, but also my first, because I don’t think I’ve ever truly loved before you. Not when you are love itself. But I… I found this journal entry, from four years ago. And I want to read it to you.” He clears his throat, a useless attempt to erase the quiver in his voice.
“I used to believe that love was meant to be grandiose. Extravagant gestures and confessions that will seem too magical for any ordinary human. That’s what I craved; a love so big it would overtake my being completely. But... But tonight, you played with my hair as I laid my head on your lap. And we held hands while drinking warm tea on your couch. And it felt enough, more than enough for me to lead a beautiful life. One worth remembering, one worth commemorating. All because it’s with you.
I realize now that I no longer have to search for love all around me, because you hand it to me, so freely, so selflessly. You love me on our extraordinary days and our mundane ones. I never have to second guess it with you. We may be angry, sad, or frustrated, but the love always remains. It's the one emotion that ties us together, that anchors us to one another. My compass. You.
I don't think I ever 'fell' in love with you. Because a fall can never be gentle, it always hurts, even if for a little. And you must always get up afterward, in a minute, in an hour, in a few years. You can't stay down forever. But this, what I feel for you, the emotion that makes my heart beat is tender and soft. It feels like walking inside a home where the light is golden, the windows are wide open, and every past version of me finally finds what it was looking for all along. I want to stay in you for a while. For a long time. For the rest of my life. And I’ll do whatever it takes so you’d let me.
P.S: I am sleeping with a light heart tonight. I hope that, for as long as I’m breathing, you will always too. You deserve it, more than anyone who has ever walked this earth.”
There is a long pause, as Hyunjin’s words hang over the air; they knock the breath out of you but simultaneously fill you with life. You step forward, swiping away his tears gently. He brings your hand to his mouth, soft rosy lips brushing against your knuckles.
“I guess I've been writing my vows since the day I met you,” he smiles softly, delicate love overflowing from him. “Every painting, every journal entry, was to you, by you, for you. Thank you for being my home. Thank you for choosing to love me, every day. Thank you for allowing me to witness the magic that is you. I will forever and always orbit around you.”
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 han ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹
“Have I ever told you that you're my favorite artist, sweetheart?” Han’s voice is gentle, as he begins speaking. It reminds you of the waves lapping at your feet when he proposed to you. “I feel as if, as soon as you stepped into my life, you began to paint it with the most vibrant colors. The ones I’ve been desperately longing for. Because it is hard… to see the world as a rainbow when you've felt in blacks and whites for so long.” Han’s gaze softens as he spots the tears now trailing down your cheeks. “Shh, don't cry, honey. Or I’ll start crying too, and I don't think I can stop then,” he whispers and you nod, a breathy giggle escaping your lips.
“My mind used to be a scary place. But it no longer is, because it's now filled with thoughts of you. I like to imagine that you planted yourself a little garden there, vibrant tulips and roses. And these flowers may wither down. But they will always bloom again, watered by my love for you, and your love for me. And I hope you know that I... I'll always be there for you too. When the thoughts in your head won't quiet down, I’ll talk for as long as it takes to distract you. And when you want to sit in silence, I’ll be near you, holding your hand. And when you want to be alone, I’ll be there, lingering around the door, within your reach. In whichever shape you want me, you'll get me. I am here, I won't ever leave you.”
“And now I’m crying too” Han chuckles softly, and through the shimmering veil of your tears, you cling to his hand to see.
“I really, really don't know what I ever did to deserve you. But I know I’ll try my entire life to be worthy of you. For as long as I’m here then there will always be someone who loves you. Someone who is proud of you; for breathing, for trying, for never giving up. Please never forget that. You are my strength, my peace, my home. You are everything I have ever dreamed of in human form.”
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 felix ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹
The golden rays reflect on Felix’s eyes as he looks down at his paper. A summer wedding- he insisted, his only condition to you. It is ridiculous, you wanted to tell him, to expect it to be any season but summer when he is the sun.
“Hi baby,” he grins, twinkling brown eyes captivating yours. “God, I’m so nervous. I rehearsed this ten times in front of chan. I think he learned it by heart now.” You giggle, as Chan’s laughter travels across the venue. “I’m not usually afraid of speaking in front of people. But you aren't anyone. I guess that's why I’m nervous. You look really beautiful today. This isn't in my papers, I just wanted to tell you. Because you are. You're always beautiful but today you're absolutely breathtaking and I can't believe I’m marrying you. Thank you for saying yes,” he pauses, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “I’m rambling, aren't I?” you nod, a wide grin on your face. You love him.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I... I'm known as the massage fairy, right? I think I might've massaged almost everyone present in this room.” The loud cheers of your friends signal that they agree.
“I used to, I mean, I do it because you get knots in places your hands can't reach, and it feels nice, for someone to ease the ache of your muscles for you. And I always thought that massages were strictly physical. That it just undoes tension in your body, nothing more, nothing less. And I never told you, because it sounded silly in my head. But I knew... I knew I loved you when you massaged my shoulders for the first time. Do you remember, baby?” he asks, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “That was two months into our relationship. Which is fairly early, but time means nothing when it comes to you.”
“My shoulders were sore, and when I told you, you stood behind me instantly. You started to massage my shoulders and I almost cried right there and then. Because your fingers worked delicately, and it felt as if you were kneading your love into my body. You lifted an invisible weight off of me that day, an emotional one. I didn't even know it was there until you touched me. That's how I knew you were different, to me. That your touch wasn't strictly physical, that it reached into depths of my soul, that it soothed aches I’m not even fully aware of,” he pauses, drawing in a deep breath.
“You already know this, but I... I never really learned how to deal with sadness, because it all happens so suddenly with me. One bad thought always brings with it ten others and suddenly I am pulled into a pool of horrible feelings. But your hands keep me afloat until I’m ready to swim by myself again. I think... I think you understand my sadness more than I do. Maybe because you're a part of me, two halves of the same heart.” His voice softens at the last word, as unshed tears glimmer in his eyes.
“I hope, I pray, that my hands massaging your sore shoulders would also reach into your soul and heal its ache. And I know I might not make you feel better, instantly, or in a day, or the following one. But I promise that I won't ever leave, even if the bad times stretch forward. I'll be with you, patiently, just as you do to me. I may not understand myself fully, but I know that my soul was crafted to love you. Every atom in me is yours, and that is enough knowledge for me.”
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 seungmin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹
You take a step forward, brows knitted in concentration as you carefully readjust Seungmin’s black tie. Your hands then glide to his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his suit. “Nervous?” You ask, and he responds with a subtle nod, planting a chaste kiss upon your forehead.
“Don’t be. It’s just me.”
“It’s never ‘just you’ to me.” He gently holds your chin, dainty fingers commanding a cascade of butterflies inside you. “Just look at me, okay?” You smile tenderly and he nods, taking a step backward.
Seungmin draws in a deep breath, eyes traveling over the entire room before finally settling on you.
“I’ve always liked math. I liked the security that numbers gave me, the exactitude of this science. Because one plus one equals two, and no change in our world, however grand it may be, could ever alter it. I liked things that I could grasp, that I could wrap my head around fully. Tangible rules and formulas. They were my safety net. Until you came into my life. You were the wildest variable I’ve ever encountered, and being near you made me crave things I’ve never known. You pushed me out of my comfort zone, but I wasn't afraid to fall into the unknown, because I knew you'd be there to catch me. So, you became my risks and paradoxically, my safety net, all in one.” He doesn’t look down at his paper- his kind eyes never leave yours, and you’re suddenly the only two humans existing in this world.
“I remember a Tuesday night, two years ago. You slept over at my house, and we didn't do anything special. We just talked a lot, about everything and nothing, just saying whatever crossed our minds. And then you dozed off on my chest. You looked so... Peaceful in my arms, and I was surprised you weren't woken up by my wild heartbeat. Because I suddenly realized that I wanted a forever with you, right there and then.” You both step forward at the same time, hands reaching out blindly to hold one another.
“I’ve always found it a bit weird to crave something to last for a duration that we humans cannot grasp. Everything we know is ephemeral. Everything has a beginning and an end. So, I never really believed in forever, until you. Forever exists because I can't see myself ever not loving you,” a faint hiccup courses through him, as he looks up at the sky- an earnest attempt to stop his tears from falling. It is useless, because once he looks at you again, emotion overtakes him, rippling from him in waves.
“Even- even when we're both no longer here, and my body can no longer contain my soul. Even if I only roam in space eternally, as a small speck of light, my destination would always be you, because my love for you would be the only thing my soul would remember. The core foundation of my being, the essence of who I am is my love for you, and even if everything around me fades, the love for you will stay.” His forehead presses onto yours, a last whisper, only meant for you- “My eternity is you.”
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 jeongin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹
Jeongin's lips graze the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse dances in fervor- for him alone. He looks self-assured, as he lets go of your hand to take out a paper from his pocket. But there is a faint blush tainting his cheeks; it travels down his neck when he clears his throat.
“Baby,” he starts, voice hoarse from barely hidden emotion- the notes of it settle inside your heart. “I don't know where we will be many years down the road, or what we will be doing. But I know that there are things that won't change between us. I know that I’ll listen to all your rants about your favorite show, and I’ll buy you ice cream when you're craving it at 3 a.m. I will still buy two bottles of my shampoo because you love to use mine more than yours. And I like it when you carry a part of me with you, even in such a subtle way. I will still give you my jacket, even when you insist you aren't cold, but I can tell, because I know you. I will...” He sucks in a deep breath, as his vision grows blurry from the tears in his waterline.
“I will make you coffee in the morning, exactly how you like it, down to how many ice cubes you use. I will warm up your towel as you shower and I will fold your laundry because I know you hate doing it. And I- I will hold your hand when we cross the road, and in crowded places, and in the lines of every coffeeshop we’ll go to. I will run my fingers down your spine when you're about to sleep, and I will-” Jeongin's tears splatter across the paper, smudging its black ink. His lips are quivering, as the paper shakes in his hands.
“I will kiss your tiny bruises and remind you to breathe on- on days where...” Jeongin crumples the paper in his hand as he finally looks at you. He’s crying, a stream of tears trailing down his cheeks like a floodgate that isn't planning on stopping. “On days where it seems impossible to.” He finishes, the words he's written long forgotten by him. He didn't need to read them when he had you in front of him- the sole holder of his love.
“And I will hug you tight on nights when your sadness feels bigger than what your body can contain. And when words don't seem to make sense in your head, I’ll- I’ll listen to you, I’ll understand you, I’ll learn you. And I will love you. I will love you and I’ve loved you and I love you. And I- I wish there was a word bigger than love to describe how I feel for you. Because four letters never seem enough when it comes to you. But I am yours, body, heart, and soul. Wherever you go I follow. Till the ends of the earth, I'll be there.”
#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x you#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#chan fluff#chan x reader#lee know fluff#lee know x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#changbin x reader#changbin fluff#hwang hyunjin x reader#hyunjin fluff#han x reader#han fluff#felix x reader#felix fluff#kim seungmin x reader#seungmin fluff#i.n fluff#i.n x reader#skz imagines#skz au
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Dating Spencer Reid
Summary: What dating spencer Reid is like
A/N: I wrote this super-fast because I know I haven't really been active... so I wanted to write something quick for y'all! I miss y'all and I hope y'all enjoy!
Warnings: Some NSFW moments
Word count: 1.5K
-Spencer grew up on Victorian romance novels and old valentines' poems, so he was quite the hopeless romantic
-When Spencer wasn't solving theories and getting PHDs, he was dreaming of a beautiful romance. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that he isn't the most confident boyfriend, but he makes up for it in his own way!
-Y'alls first date was something straight out of a movie! I mean it was a bouquet of flowers, an expensive dinner followed by a movie theater that played only old 50's films.
-It was the kind of date that had you falling in love with him first thing, knowing that this boy was the person you see yourself coming home to every night.
-After the date, Spencer offered you his jacket and walked you home. It was a chilly night, the streets lit up from the moonlight. He rambled on and on about the movie, but you couldn't even focus on what he was saying because you were too distracted by him.
-What you fell more in love with was the fact he didn't expect you to even kiss him!
-He was more than okay to say your "goodbyes" and "see you later" than leave.... but you gave him a soft peck before heading into your apartment. Even throughout the darkness you could see his blush.
-Anyways, that date led to a beautiful love story between y'all
-Spencer was a romantic even in the littlest of ways, like sending flowers to your work randomly or leaving you small poems in your fridge before he leaves so it feels as though he never really leaves.
-Spencer would always make sure to call you every night when he was away for work... I mean EVERY night.
-"Spencer honey it's 3am here..."
-"I know! But I just wanted to call you, should I call back in the morning?"
-"No, I'm already up and well I miss hearing your voice anyways." You laughed softly.
-The start of your relationship was so innocent, there was no sex or jealousy... it was just so simple and romantic
-There was lots of making out though, something that surprisingly Spencer was the one to initiate every time.
-There were just lots of times when you two would be discussing a book that Spencer probably recommended to you, then all of a sudden, his tongue would be down your throat.
-He was getting used to hugs and the touching, but kissing was something that felt so natural when he did it with you.
-Speaking of books! He had a list of books he recommended to you, like books that you never thought you'd read but you're glad you did yk?
-You would finish a book in one sitting and call him immediately to talk about it
-In turn though, you would bring him into the modern era and show him newer movies and music. Most of the stuff he did not like, but he pretended to like it to be nice.
-The first couple of months of your relationship, the team had no idea you existed. They started to notice spencer being in a lot better mood, but nothing too alarming.
-However, Derek Morgan is a lady killer... so he caught on a lot faster than the others.
-Like one time, the whole team was going out for drinks and Spencer said he had plans... Derek caught him in a lie real fast
-"So, who's the lucky lady?"
-"What?"
-"Pretty boy...I don't need to be a profiler to figure out why your suddenly so "busy.""
-Because of Morgan prying, Spencer decided to invite you out with the team one night.
-The team was all pretty nice, but very confused on why someone like you would want someone like spencer?? You two were completely different from each other... like night and day damn near
-Besides your differences, the team fell in love with you probably harder than Spencer did. I mean Penelope basically adopted you by the end of the night... she did however do her background checking before meeting you, but we don't gotta talk about that.
-The meeting of the team made the relationship real, like now you had become a part of their small family, and they trusted you enough to take care of spencer
-Spencer also felt this was a huge step, like now that his family accepted you, he was going to spend the rest of his life with you
-Spencer would always bring you up when he got the chance now, putting a framed picture of you and him on his desk just so people would ask about you.
-"Oh, who's this?" Someone would ask.
-"That's my girlfriend, Y/N. We've been dating for 11 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days. She's a (profession) and she smells like lavender."
-Like girl, all they asked was who you were... not every detail of your existence.
-But now that you guys are now officially dating, and everyone knows it... there's some newfound jealousy
-Spencer knew that you were attractive, but sometimes he forgets that you are also attractive to others as well
-Sometimes when you come into the FBI office, he sees other men staring you down... probably wondering how a nerdy boy like him could get someone like you.
-Spencer getting jealous is quiet and polite. He doesn't get angry or upset, we all know he does not do good with emotions. So, he'll just keep his distance from you, accepting the fact that you could leave him at any moment and not wanting to feel the effects of it.
-He will go silent for days if you didn't ask him about it, not even sure what he was feeling but knew he didn't like it.
-"Just didn't like how he was looking at you... made me feel weird."
-"You're jealous?"
-"I guess... I don't know."
-You just laughed it off, telling him how you would never choose anyone over him even if there was a gun to your head.
-Spencer also remembers everything about everything so... he picks up on your favorite things and your little quirks, plus he never forgets an anniversary!
-Derek bullies the shit out of him, like omfg
-he'll always call you his mommy and make kissing sounds when you call him, loud enough for the entire office to hear.
-"Muah muah muah... Oh Y/N!!" Derek yells, making sure you heard him.
-"So let me guess... Dereks with you?"
-"How'd you know?"
-He actually doesn't use too many pet names, but you definitely do lmao. His name is literally "Spenice poo <3" on your phone.
-Eventually, Spencer asks you to move in with him and omfg!!! You are so excited, like jumping up and down excitedly.
-I feel like spencer would be so domestic too omfg
-He would play music while cleaning the house, but it would all be like Mozart and classical music. You would always grab him by the waist and start dancing with him, you both looked so stupid but at least it was together.
-He would ramble to you all the time and you were probably the only person in the world that would let him, honestly you enjoyed it too.
-Like you had just gotten out of the shower, Spencer barged in and started talking about a case. He sat on the toilet seat while you did your skin care, just rambling on and on about how sick this person was.
-Yours and Spencer's different aesthetics clashed a lot in the house, like Spencer's apartment was slowly being taken over by you and your stuff... but he didn't mind.
-Since you guys have decided to take your relationship to another big step... Spencer decided he wanted you to pop his cherry.
-Spencer wasn't too experienced and he's never really had sex before. He's done stuff with someone, but never the actual act of it.
-He wanted to do it way before, but he thought it would complicate everything and honestly, he wasn't completely ready for it yet.
-You made sure it was the perfect night, you had it planned out. You took him on a picnic, watching the sunset as you loosened him up a little bit, making sure he was comfortable before setting yourself down on his lap.
-You were so soft with him; I mean you were afraid you might break him. He had to beg for you at one point because you weren't going fast enough.
-The next morning, he had to go into work, something about him was different... his confidence boosted a bit. Derek could sense it from a mile away, making sure Spencer knew that he knew.
-The popping of his cherry had created something inside spencer, he found his favorite thing to do, and he wanted it at all times
-You obviously were glad to give him whatever his little heart desired, so you let him fuck you anytime he wanted. Sometimes it even got a little filthy... something you would have never guessed about spencer.
-My bad I got sidetracked... but spencer was also way touchier with you
-Spencer was never really touchy in public, but now it's all he ever did. If you were in the room with him, then his attention would be completely on you.
-He really just felt so safe with you, knowing that you gave him not only your body but also your mind... he just wanted you, period.
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#doctor spencer reid#spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#matthew gray gubler#criminal minds fandom#spence reid#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds smut
524 notes
·
View notes
Text
secret admirer.
hihihihihihihihi, i cannot believe i actually slept for two days in a row? wth? and also that i never did this kind of posts? im such a lazy bum mb yall, I promise I'll write a real fic soon.
summary: bllk characters as your secret admirers: isagi, bachira, chigiri, reo. how they fell, what do they do, how did they confess.
isagi.y
him. just him.
you once held his shirt collar to stop him from planting flatly on the floor.
and when you walked away, you walked with his heart in your palms.
yea, just like that
but honestly, isagi himself didn't knew he was such a big sap inside
and the moment he realised you two shared a few classes was the second he almost kneeled and thanked the sky itself for this.
an absolute swoon from looking at your side profile.
he once was long gone within the abyss of daydreaming about you, he genuinely just couldn't look away.
then got called out by the teacher for being too distracted.
definitely prayed that you didn't see that.
writes your name unintentionally in his notebook.
gets so embarrassed about it later and rips the paper.
still dose it again the next day and almost ripped the whole book apart form cringing at himself.
he once was musing over you too much to the point that your name slipped out unwittingly on the dinner table.
his parents couldn't stop teasing him about it, wondering when they would see you walking down their house door.
leaves love notes in your locker almost everyday.
it's something short and simple like: "you look pretty today."
then when he goes home he'll realize how dumb that was because you literally look the prettiest everyday.
dumb, dumby.
takes time to make the first move though.
he just feels like you're way, farther away from his reach.
it's okay, he still considers himself lucky to be one of those who got admire you.
he just hoped you saw him behind all of them, even if it was a glance.
chigiri.h
omgg pretty boyyy
despite chigiri being a confident and self-reliant, the trigger words of his old injury was like a pulling a pin of a grenade to his still-raw sorrowness. something that'll always haunt him.
and what dose he dare to say when they were nothing but truthful? like a salt to his wounds, he tends to just take it and suck it up, or at least try to ignore it for his sake.
but everything flipped when you stood up for him.
from that moment on. chigiri knew that he was far a goner.
out of everyone here he's definitely the most romantic one.
reads all your favourite books and analysis it.
probably named a cat after you.
like isagi he writes love letters for you.
just a little too poetic..
it it's short then it's something like: "loving you is like breathing." or "i hope your days are filled with the same joy you give me with your existence only."
but mostly is: "my definition of love, i see the true meaning of living behind your hue of life. you shall lighten my soul with your existence alone, i was born to see you shin each day, witnessing you is a blessing from heaven itself. the day that i stop seeing you as the owner of the stars is the day my body shall vanish, yet my soul will know it way back to you. from your only and one your admirer."
what a lovesick clown.
he might be a smooth talker on the outside, but trust me the butterflies of sentimental keeps on swirling in his stomach on the sight of you.
told his mother and sister about you.
it was his biggest regrets.
because the next day his sister shouted your name in a demand for you to spend the night for the 'meeting of the future in law'.
he had to physically drag her back to the car, freaking embarrassing.
couldn't meet your eyes for a while after that.
wants to hold your hand.
like, really badly.
it's just that feeling your skin against his cold, pristine hands must've feel like the loveliest, cosiest thing.
the thoughts alone are making him go crazy.
he confessed first, just couldn't help himself.
he just hoped if you would go to the end of the world alongside with him.
bachira.m
the sunshine boy himself.
the definition of fell first AND fell harder.
it all started when the class was ordered to work as duo for a project, something he always despised.
you may say that because bachira was definitely not having the word 'smart' in his book, you'd be right actually.
but mainly since no one really wanted to group up with him.
it was embarrassing, to just sit there and wait to be picked was putting him under the lights that pointed him out as the most pitiful creature in the room.
then you pocked him on the shoulder, and asked him if he wanted to be your partner.
and when he didn't see the sarcasm reeking from you, he knew he tripped hard, and couldn't find it anywhere in his feet to back him up.
it was strange, bachira never had a company, let alone a crush.
but the signs were there, and were painfully vulnerable.
painted you in art class multiple times; you with a smile, you reading a book, you sniffing a sunflower.
maybe also you and him... holding hands or hugging...
stares at your face a way, way too long.
he tells himself it's to crave your features better and detailed.
even he doesn't believe that however.
he draws your eyes a lot.
his second favourite colour is your eyes hue.
he was never the best at writing romantic poems, and his hand writing is just........
so he insisted gets you a gift!
which is a rock.
yes you heard me, rock.
he would even paint a little face with a smile on it and leave it on your desk by the end of the day.
almost went bald from joy when you had it hanging as a small march on your bag.
and when you had a bad day, that goes unnoticed by him.
so imagine your surprise when you would find two pairs of rocks, one kissing the other who had a sad expression on it face.
that somehow that foster a blissful smile on your face. like that little action extinct any remains of the past negative you carried.
and bachira was more than happy to be the reason for your happiness.
definitely rambles about you to his mom.
and his monster.
he once ha a dream about you two smooching.
cried when he woke up because he wanted it to be real more than anything.
you two confessed first, at the same time.
and boy was he dancing on cloud nine at it.
he almost smooch you that moment and then.
reo.m
it's mister perfect everyone, cheer.
you fell first, he fell harder.
no, literally. you fell. tripped flat on the floor.
and somehow, that made the reo mikage heart move.
?????????
love at first (fall??) sight.
he definitely leaves a trail of gifts for you everywhere.
your chair, desk, locker, bag.
he switches between chocolate and flowers to letters and perfumes, necklaces, etc..
you say how he picked them?
easy, see something that reminds him of you, he buys.
and it's pretty foolish since he sees you in almost everything.
reo is convinced that you're within everything that shins beautifully.
he actually paid the teachers to let him be in the same classroom as you.
paid even more to get a seat next to you.
rip to whoever was sitting next to you.
he once heard that a guy was bothering you.
the next day the guy was the talking of school because he suddenly moved out of town due to his dad losing his job.
hm, must be karma then.
has a shrine of you.
but you didn't hear that from me.
talks about you none stop to nagi and ba-ya.
genuinely sobbed when he imagined you with someone else.
has a flight under your name.
made a makeshift doll of you so he can practice his confessions on.
had a mental breakdown of the idea of you rejecting him.
reo can the most horrible, miserable day to a human kind to live.
then he sees you smiling
BOOM
he's all happy and smiling again, also a little giddy.
you once greeted him good morning, the next day he was planing what ring would suit you the most.
had two planes to write on the sky: 'will you go out with me?' and your name next to it in a shade of a heart.
now, you definitely cannot reject that. (Please don't)
have a nice day everyone.
#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock#isagi x reader#bachira x reader#reo x reader#chigiri hyoma x reader#chigiri x reader#yoichi isagi x reader#bachira meguru x reader#reo mikage x reader
867 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am so happy with the conclusion of BBC Ghosts.
There were so many things I loved about the final series that I can't even keep it all straight in my brain, I'll have to rewatch it all (and the Christmas special, of course! Must remember it's the not the true end yet!)
But something I can immediately say I loved was what they didn't do. See, that line in the trailer that turned out to be from episode 5 - about there being a pattern to when they move on - worried me. One of the best things about the show, to me, is how there truly is not any reason at all to why the ghosts are there, or when they go. It's something the creators have said over and over, and that the show has always backed up; we saw so many times that, unlike in most ghost media, addressing unfinished business or achieving emotional resolution changes absolutely nothing. Pat hit some sort of emotional resolution three times. And Julian realised the importance of family, and Robin saved someone’s life, and Thomas discovered the truth of his death, and so on and so on. Finding closure isn't the end, and equally, the end isn't predicated by a climatic conclusion. It just happens. And the same is true for why people become ghosts. It just happens. And you exist, and fill your days, and then you’re gone. And no one knows why.
It's kind of the most agnostic television show I've ever seen.
I love that. Every other afterlife show I've ever seen has some kind of reward and punishment system. Or at least says that there's a reason for things, some kind of higher power at play, not necessarily a god but something like it. Even the American adaptation felt the need to bring Hell into it, which is why I need to specify that I'm only talking about the British version here. And I feel like a lot of fans wanted there to be reasons too, or felt like there simply had to be, that it wasn't even a question. I get why - it's not just because it's the standard for ghost narratives. It's really uncomfortable to think about the randomness of life and death. But Mary didn't go because of anything that happened before that day, and Cap was never going to go because he came out, and one day, when they've all gone, there won't have been a reason for it.
Because the real point of BBC Ghosts is that there is no point. You’ve just got to make it through the days, surrounded by people that irritate you, trapped in a confusing world where you’re mostly powerless. And it sucks, and you're angry, and sad, and bored as hell. And you also find happiness in the mundane chaos, and you get really good at chess, and watch the ants in the garden, and write bad poetry, and read terrible romance novels, and gamble money you don't have, and go camping, and play games, and learn French, and watch reality TV, and have sex with a decapitated Tudor nobleman’s body, and dance to old music, and look at the stars, and find that you actually really love all those annoying people after all, and that’s the point.
#bbc ghosts#bbc ghosts spoilers#bbc ghosts series 5#but imagine if they prove me wrong by melodramatically killing them all off at christmas though lmao actually that would be hilarious do it#also love so very much that they finished on a gay joke they know who's on the front lines for them <3#god it's a cliche but really do already miss 'em
725 notes
·
View notes
Note
Good post about elon musk's twitter acquisition, but why did you spell it gaol instead of jail? I assume jail was what you were referring to.
...
Okay listen. You're not a bad person. I recognise that you are fundamentally well-intentioned, and you most likely did not intend offence with this question, just as I suspect all the other Americans who have seen fit to ask this probably didn't intend offence.
But you must see how incredibly rude this is? You must do. You cannot actually think it's socially acceptable to ask a stranger why they are using their own dialect instead of yours. You must realise how rude it would be for me to send you an ask saying "Good post, but why did you spell it neighbor? I assume neighbour is what you meant."
Here's the thing: I first started reading books in American English when I was nine years old. I loved Point Horror books, and Goosebumps, and the Saddle Club. And as I read those books, in a dialect not my own, with foreign spelling and unfamiliar words I hadn't encountered before, you know what I did?
I dealt with it. I just... coped. I recognised it was a different dialect. And then I spent a while confused as to what a pacifier was because Google didn't exist yet but through context I figured it was a small toy Americans give babies, and then eventually my Dad told me it was a dummy and I went OHHHHH...yeah that makes more sense.
But the point is, I just worked this out. I worked out what a sidewalk was, and galoshes, and teeth-floating in horses, and that 'pants' means something different, and that 'fanny' means something VERY different. I didn't get so confused at words having Z's instead of S's that I felt the need to write to the author and ask them why they did it; because I understood that I was reading a different language from someone in a different country.
I did my time at this particular coalface, is what I'm saying.
I recognise that Americans don't. Harry Potter was an international giant, but it had to be translated into American English so poor little American children wouldn't get confused; ditto His Dark Materials, and I will never understand why the translator for both of those franchises changed the titles of the first books (apparently Americans can't be trusted to understand what a philosopher is, or the Northern Lights.) But even so.
I encourage you, and all other Americans who are feeling the need to weigh in on this, to take some time to ask yourselves why, on seeing an unfamiliar dialectic word, you couldn't just work it out for yourself, but HAD to comment on it and even ask for a justification.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
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!
Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist
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!”
Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist
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
321 notes
·
View notes
Note
Betts. how do I stop feeling jealous of everyone and everything and just focus on myself? I'm tired of being comprised of nothing but envy.
story time:
so i was recently at Millay, which is one of the top artist residencies in the country. they have an acceptance rate of something like 3%. when i was shown my room, there was a packet of all the residents' artist bios. i sat down and read through all of them. most of them were like half a page in length, single-spaced, listing out accomplishments i could never dream of. one artist had won a guggenheim. one author had published 12 books. another author published her first book at 19 years old. these were people who were extremely well accomplished and respected in their fields.
and we all became very good friends!
and then there was me. my bio was 3 sentences listing out a couple short publications and awards and other residencies i'd done. and my honest to god first thought was, "wow, the jurors must have really liked my writing to have accepted me among all these great artists."
and my second thought was, "that's the healthiest thing i have ever thought."
i had no jealousy of their accomplishments. even though my career hadn't even begun compared to theirs, i didn't attend dinner that night with any impostor syndrome. and that confirmed for me that i had grown out of whatever place i used to be in as a person, where i was basically a raw wound wrapped in barbed wire. everything hurt me and i hurt everything in return.
jealous feelings come from an intense need of external approval, but as i've mentioned in other asks, approval and validation is a well that gets filled over time. at our introductory dinner that night, i didn't talk about my work in the hope of convincing everyone i deserved to be there, which was what i would've done a few years before. instead we all ended up talking about a TV show. the most highbrow place i've ever been in my life, and we're getting wine drunk and discussing at length a cheesy discovery channel reality series. the guggenheim winner: loves box turtles. the guy who's published 12 books: his favorite movie is Spirited Away. the girl who published a book at 19: reads One Direction fanfic. the well-lauded poet: old school tumblrina.
actually, 4 out of 7 of us read fanfic and we had some great conversations about it. sometime i'll tell you about introducing the co-director of the residency to AO3.
when you think of the most accomplished and successful writer you've ever read, remember that they are, at the very core of their being, a nerd. and if you were to eat dinner with them, you would, with enough polite inquisitiveness, be able to unlock the goofy side of them that binges Property Brothers.
so that was the big change for me, i think. i started asking a lot of questions. i stopped talking and i started listening. it seems counterintuitive that admitting to not knowing stuff shows confidence, but it does. pretending you know stuff is what looks insecure. i think for me, i put so much of myself in my work, i wanted my work to be lauded so i could feel accomplished, and feeling accomplishment would let me believe i deserved to exist. but over time, i've reframed that mentality. my work is a thing that exists beyond me and is private to those who read it. it comes from me, but it is not me. what i am is just the person i am, and my life is a series of moments i choose for myself, and i am allowed to exist.
even sending this ask shows that you've begun filling your well. it takes someone who's already come a long way to realize jealousy isn't the status quo and is a feeling to be overcome. and you can overcome it. you can reach a place where you have enough success that other people's success has nothing to do with you, and you're free to just be happy for them. and when you read work that's better than yours you feel joy at learning something new.
so put your work into the world and let it be rejected. you'll rack up a couple wins or close calls, and those will give you energy to be rejected some more. and eventually you'll be rejected so much that rejection doesn't feel like anything, and you will have won enough to realize your work has a place in the world, and that place is no bigger or smaller than anyone else's. your work is allowed to exist simply as it is, and you are allowed to exist simply as you are.
397 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii I love your writing could I maybe request some slashers with a s/o who has insomnia
(Add rz Michael and Bubba please
You can add other slashers to)
Oh kitten, thank you for your request ♡︎ I hope it could make you feel better and help to sleep. These boys are all for you
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
Slashers with s/o who has insomnia
Characters: Michael Myers (RZ), Bubba Sawyer, Hannibal Lecter, Mark Hoffman
Warnings: mention of cannibalism (just a little, because it's Bubba), insomnia, just problems with sleep, but I tried to make it hurt/comfort
Ps: English is not my native language, so sorry for misspells
Michael Myers
• Expressing emotions towards another person is clearly not Michael's strong point. But when it comes to you... It's something else.
• At first, he didn't pay much attention to your condition, or rather, he just didn't know yet that such apathy and nervousness is something bad. Michael just thought he wasn't used to you yet.
• But still something made him think about it.
• As soon as Michael got used to physical contact, he literally began to feel a hunger for touch. He wanted to touch you, hug you and just feel your tender skin on his rough one. A man slept with you. When he was sure that you were deep asleep and would not notice it, he pressed his huge body against yours like a frightened kitten. He was desperately clutching the fabric of your pajamas, sinking into a restless sleep.
• But that has changed now. You went to bed late, if you went to bed at all, and sometimes you woke up in the middle of the night. Now Michael was falling asleep without your little figure next to him. It was like this.. alien and unpleasant.
• It seemed eerily wrong. You spent less time with him and seemed to be flying in your thoughts all the time, although in fact your body was just trying not to switch off due to lack of sleep. Michael became more aggressive and killed his victims with greater brutality.
• But as soon as the usual veil of anger fell away, and his pitch-black eyes turned soft blue again, Michael noticed in your gaze.. sadness? despair? His heart squeezed a little. Then he really thought about your condition. It probably happened a month after your days became more frequent with insomnia. And he really didn't know what to do.
• But Michael is a smart boy, he found a way out. How easy it was to watch old Loomis for a few days, who, probably because of his work, often experienced insomnia. How to solve this problem? Michael watched the man through the window. Pills? Michael hates pills, and he doesn't want you to become addicted to them in any way. Doctor's visit? Michael wouldn't really want you to have contact with another person, especially if it's a man. Just thinking about it made Michael's heart ache.
• But how does he cope with stress himself? Now he takes out all his accumulated anger and emotions in murders. A knife in his hand and someone else's blood on it cause a man a pleasant wave of trembling. But you can't kill. No, he will never allow you, his fragile flower, to get your soft, tender hands in someone else's vile blood and flesh.
• Although as a child, when he was sad or bad, Michael ate candy... Indeed, sweets. Perhaps it is sweets that will help you cope with stress. It seems that chocolate causes the production of serotonin?
• You were sitting in the bedroom and reading a book, or rather, trying to. Everything was in a fog in my head, and the letters occasionally floated before my eyes, but as soon as your head touched the pillow, drowsiness immediately disappeared, as if it had never existed. Flipping through the next page, you look up and notice the giant figure of your boyfriend in the doorway. Surprisingly, he is wearing his still clean overalls and an orange papier-mache mask. Dirty blonde hair falls gracefully over his broad shoulders. You can't read his stoic expression, but you can see him hiding something behind his back. When you finally pay attention to him, Michael starts walking slowly in your direction. He climbs onto the bed, the mattress will crumple under his weight. Next to your side, he puts a bag with a lot of sweets, and he grabs your legs and climbs between them. The man gently squeezes your hips and puts his head on your lower abdomen, gently rubbing his nose against your skin through your clothes. Like a kitten. Michael was not a fan of soulful conversations, so he preferred actions and touches. You glance briefly at the package and notice inside, in addition to sweets, a small note. Clumsy and a little sloppy, as if written in a child's handwriting: "Hug me if you can't sleep. I'm near."You smile, and your heartbeat quickens. You gently touch Michael's tangled hair with your fingers, starting to slowly stroke them. It's relaxing. I could swear that a long purr is coming from the chest of this giant.
Bubba Sawyer
• Bubba started to worry a lot when he found out about your insomnia. He begins to take care of you and shield you from stress in every possible way.
• When the Sawyers need to deal with uninvited guests, you are usually sent for a short walk with one of the brothers so that you don't worry about strong screams. Or you're just out in the backyard enjoying a warm Texas day.
• Bubba gives you a lot of hugs. Very much. At night, he does not let you out of his arms, fearing that something might happen to you. He is very attentive. A man always makes sure that when you go to bed, the room is cool and dark, and the sheets are soft and pleasant to sleep on.
• Before going to bed, you definitely take a walk in the garden. Even if he is tired, Bubba will still sit with you on the grass, admiring the stars and gently squeezing your little neat hand. He values you very much.
• Bubba will also try to give you lighter food. No hard-to-digest human meat and barbecue, just fruits and vegetables.
• By nature a gentle and simple person, Bubba will give you a mug of warm milk before going to bed. They always gave it to him when he was little, and he fell asleep quickly.
• When the two of you go to bed, Bubba cuddles you to her, making soothing sounds and mumbling like a lost puppy. He clings to you and tries to show you all his love and comfort.
• Bubba has big and strong hands. So in the evenings, about two or three times a week, he gives you a relaxing massage. Trust me, he does it like a real professional. These hardened by long years of hard work can do a lot.
• Bubba will try to talk about your problem with Drayton. Bubba really wants to help you. Even if it means you have to leave him. Bubba will try to persuade Drayton to take you to the city to see a doctor. He loves you so much, his sunshine, the man doesn't want you to suffer.
Hannibal Lecter
• You periodically had trouble sleeping, but you didn't want to bother the Lecturer with this. After all, he has enough problems of his own, besides, he is a psychiatrist and deals with the problems of his patients, he does not need to worry about you once again.
• So you thought when another sleepless night came.
• You were quietly sitting on the windowsill in the bedroom and listening to music. Hannibal, as always, lingered in the office, so you were completely immersed in your thoughts. The light melody somehow reduced the unpleasant heaviness of your head. It seems that you wanted to sleep, but at the same time, your brain did not want to turn off in any way. There was a strange emptiness inside.
• Being in your thoughts, you didn't notice how a big but gentle hand touched your shoulder. Lifting your head up, your eyes instantly met his — bottomless and dark, like thick blood. The man's eyebrows moved slightly to the bridge of his nose, and he gave you a quick glance from the bottom up.
• "Why aren't you sleeping?" His gaze slid to his wristwatch, "It's one o'clock in the morning, dear."
• The answer was only your empty, uncertain look. The man instantly connected the dots, sighing heavily. "Insomnia?" A slight nod. Hannibal gently touches your chin with his fingers, stroking the skin and leaning his forehead against yours. "You should have told me earlier, honey. I'm a psychiatrist."
• After a couple of minutes, your tired body was already peacefully resting in Hannibal's arms. He carried you to the bathroom, sitting you on the edge of the tub and slowly starting to draw hot water. The man added a little lavender oil and a nice soft bubble bath. As soon as your body touched the cherished warmth, a blissful sigh escaped from your chest. A smile touched Hannibal's lips.
• "That's it dear. Close those beautiful eyes of yours," he almost sang in his sweet, slightly hoarse voice as he sat down on the side of the tub. He rolled up his sleeves and took some shampoo, starting to wash your hair. His movements are precise, gentle, soothing. Your eyes slowly close, as if filled with lead, and your heart begins to beat in a calmer rhythm. It was so sweet of him. This man knows exactly what he's doing. A little later, he massages your shoulders and neck, relaxing the muscles tense after long sleepless nights. The subtle scent of lavender and his firm hands created a pleasant duet in your mind, starting to slowly put you to sleep. It's as if in one moment all that stress disappeared from your soul, being replaced by a clear lack of sleep.
• "That's it, honey. Let me take care of my love."
• After a while, Hannibal will help you get out of the bath and put on clean pajamas consisting of your favorite shorts and his loose shirt. He knows that his things make you feel comfortable and safe.
• Under his careful guidance, you will slowly return to bed. Cool sheets on your hot skin after a bath now seem like a real paradise. Sleep begins to slowly take over your mind as Hannibal's arms gently wrap around your smaller body.
• "Sweet dreams, darling."
Mark Hoffman
• Mark knew well what it meant to have trouble sleeping. Because of all his work and the Designer, he was often stressed and could not sleep peacefully.
• So when he noticed you had insomnia, it really started to worry him. Not to say that Mark was a very gentle and kind partner, but he tries. Therefore, first of all, Mark will certainly take you to the doctor and use any possible method of treating your insomnia, no matter if it is a special massage or medications.
• In addition, Mark knows that, first of all, insomnia occurs against a background of great stress and excitement. Therefore, he will try to give you maximum support. A man will try to do most of the housework, not allowing you not to overwork. He will do his best to give you support, both physical and emotional.
• Every evening certainly ends with a warm hug. You know, in his big hands you will really feel loved and safe. You can sit in the living room and watch some quiet movie. Or you will just lie together in the bedroom: there is a subdued light around, the moon shines softly through the window, gently tracing his rough features with a milky white light; you lie wrapped in a soft blanket in his arms, Mark's head rests on top of your head. You can talk about the past day or just be silent, enjoying each other's company. After a while, he will begin to gently hum some kind of lullaby, from which you will wearily close your eyes. In his hands, you have nothing to worry about. He will always be with you, no matter what.
• "I promise you that it's going to be okay, we will get through this together."
• Often your evenings can end with a mug of hot herbal tea. Warm drinks are always soothing, so he can try.
• You may notice one more detail. When you try to fall asleep with him, he deliberately presses you closer to him. His shirt smells like lavender. The delicate scent of the flower pleasantly tickles your nose, causing a smile. Surprisingly, your brain calms down, you begin to feel sleepy. Mark specially bought a new lavender laundry conditioner, knowing that it could help you calm down.
• Every day he will constantly remind you how important you are to him. If he leaves for work before you, he leaves different stickers with inscriptions all over the house. On the refrigerator, on the bathroom mirror, on the bedside table. "It's not your fault you have insomnia, baby. You're important to me. I love you very much. You're doing enough. I'm proud of you." While at work, he often sends you cute messages and pictures. And although he himself is not strong in such things as romance, the fact that he sees your smile encourages him to try even harder.
• Mark buys you big stuffed animals so you have someone to cuddle with while he's at work. There are also lots of milkshakes in the fridge now, and there are different teas in the cupboard to help you relax. And although he tries not to give you a lot of sweets, he buys your favorite fruits and nuts to adjust your nutrition.
• He really cares and cares about you. Mark will try to do everything in his power to help you, dear.
#slashers x reader#michael myers#michael myers x reader#michael myers rz#bubba sawyer#bubba sawyer x reader#hannibal lecter#hannibal lecter x reader#mark hoffman saw#mark hoffman x reader#leatherface x reader#x reader
464 notes
·
View notes
Text
— ⧽➻Wanderer with a crush!˒˒ˋˋ
『its how i think wanderer would be id he had a crush,,, and this takes place obviously after he stopped being 'scaramouche'.』
╰ˊˊtw: soft wanderer (help), cursing, wanderers past trauma (kabukimono/kunikuzushi) its just a lil bit tho, spoilers.╎ + its a wanderer x reader type shit, so he falls for you!
He thought it couldn't be possible, but it happened. he was already upset at himself for allowing himself to spend time with you. And with those soft and sweet smiles of yours, he'd almost always looks away—and what you wouldn't notice was his his blushy pink cheeks that would always fade back into his normal pale, color when he'd turn to look back at you, tilting his hat a bit to hide his own smirk.
The guy had even known you when he was once Scaramouche, you'd catch his eye from time to time, but he never really thought about talking to you. Back then he just thought of you as a 'pretty girl', then he'd scoff and turn away. He even wished he'd gotten the chance to have one chat with you before he deletes himself out of existence as Scaramouche. You always seemed to look at him with that cheerful smile. But he's glad he got a chance to befriend you, and now, as a normal person.
He didn't even think puppets could fall in love, nor did he think his porcelain face could turn red! But it began happening more often often the more he hung out with you. Being a wanderer made him not be busy—unlike his past self as Scaramouche who always had things to do. He despised that old part of him, but now he's a changed man alright. He's still vedy cautious and trying his best not to show any vulnerability, he wouldn't wanna remind himself of the rime he was a pathetic, dumb doll who allowed himself to be betrayed.
But he wouldn't let you betray him, no. You're stuck with him.
He didnt exactly understand the concept of „love“. He's seen couples in Sumeru and didn't quite get why they were so affectionate, prepping kisses on eachothers lips and always holding hands. He'd sometimes even cringe at it. Even imagining himself like that with you felt weird... Wait, whys he thinking of it in the first place!?
After finally accepting the fact he's in love after days of trying to convince himself he isn't, he began to think—would you feel the same? That thought made him anxious, if you saw him as only a friend. If he really wanta you, he'd try.
And he did.
He'd go to the library more often, looking for romance books and even looking arouns him to make sure noones looking. He doesnt wanna be caught reading something so embarrassing... He read a few stories, even some tips and tricks on how to flirt, which he found pathetic. Who would wanna say "did it hurt when you fell from heaven" to someone they like? Pathetic! But as he read some romance stories, short and simple, he just couldn't help but imagine how it would be with you... How soft your lips would feel against his, and they way your twos fingers would intertwine.
And then he tried some things out.
He has tried pinning you against a wall, fortunately getting a reaction od you having a small blush, but then brushing it right off and smiling like he didn't do anything. Then he even grabbed your chin between his indec finger and thumb to make u look up at him—and you didn't even have a reaction! Wasn't that something common people did to get people to be flustered!?
He was beyond frustrated, even ended up asking Nahida for some help, to which she happily recommended for him to write you a letter, if he was too scared to say what he wanted it in person. 𝖧𝖾 called it pathetic and stupis, and a waste of time at first, but then he immediately began writing one after.
It took him so many tries, so many crumbled up papers on the ground, to the point Nahida also helped him come up with words to write. At last, finally, he decided to be sneaky and put it in your mailbox, knowing you will be opening it soon. He was a flustered mess as soon as he was rushing away once he put the letter in.
He'll definitely be even more flustered if you tease him about the letter the next day... ♡
587 notes
·
View notes
Text
I think "Bad Writing on Purpose" is a misnomer.
And people focus too much on it.
First of all, I really don't understand why people were surprised by the cliffhanger. Everyone was talking about how Neil said season 2 was going to be "quiet, gentle, and romantic" but nobody noticed that he also, on multiple occasions, wrote that season 2 was not the sequel he and Terry plotted, but what needed to happen to get the characters to where they needed to be at the start of what they plotted as the book sequel but would now be season 3. He was always completely open that season 2 was a bridge, and after reading it here and there before season 2 came out, I for one knew that season 2 would most likely end with a cliffhanger.
I mean, I surely didn't know we would get OFMD-ed, that was indeed a surprise, but I knew there would be a cliffhanger. Why didn't you?
Now I have read ariaste's famous 15 000 word essay. I find her theory quite brilliant. I don't think she will be (totally) right about it, it's too specific and too reliant on her assumption of how the Book of Life works. I also disagree with some of the details of what she calls "bad writing". Especially Maggie might just be portrayed as a dork neurodivergent. And some of her visual "clues" already turned out to be simple homages. (Not "The Crow Road", though, I think. Yes, Neil and Terry were friends with Ian Banks. But he has written like 40+ books, why choose THAT one, the one that deals in part with people solving a mystery by going through old documents, just after we are shown that Aziraphale keeps diaries and definitely leaves them in the bookshop when he's going to heaven? Even if we ascribe its first appearance to the famous opening line which Gabriel reads aloud, why show the same book a second time, mid-frame?)
Also, yes, I disliked that Aziraphale's & Crowley's new first meeting put them on the wrong foot with each other, when their meeting in Eden had established them as kinda instant co-conspirators from the very beginning. The same with Crowley in the Job episode being the one to introduce Aziraphale to worldly pleasures instead of him discovering them on his own. But that is sometimes what happens when you learn more about characters from new canon, sometimes it doesn't fit your established headcanon. You either roll with it or you choose to ignore that part of canon.
But I do think she is on the right track. And the most important thing that ariaste pointed out is still the missing/unsatisfying payoffs and the unfired Chekov's Guns, which I am pretty sure is the very reason this season felt so "off" for most of us and why ariastes theory found so much resonance. But I wouldn't call that Bad Writing. I would call that at most Weird Writing Choices. Especially if
you view the whole of season 2, the bridge season, the quiet gentle and romantic interlude, as one. giant. setup.
Having Aziraphale use his never-before-mentioned halo as a deus-ex-machina option to defeat the demons in his bookshop is a weird writing choice. Especially when we know we have a literal Chekov's - Derringer - Gun hidden somewhere in there, which is not being used. Mentioning the Book of Life several times and have it be of no consequence, Crowley even doubting that it really exists, is another unfired gun. The Nazi-Zombies, which are somehow left to their own devices and never mentioned again, could be a Chekhov's Gun - and I feel a lot better knowing now that yes, the living dead are apparently part (a sign?) of The Second Coming.
But it isn't bad writing. It is setting up season 3. It has always been about setting up season 3. We got a nice, little, quiet gentle and romantic, fan-fictionesque Ineffable Bureaucracy main plot to go with it, but that was never the raison d'etre for season 2. It's main purpose was always to set. up. season. three.
After all, most paraphrasings of "Chekov's Gun" speak of acts. If a gun is shown in act 1, it has to be fired in act 2. If a gun is shown in one act, it has to be fired the following. If we look at Good Omens as a 3-act-story, with one season being one act, then all the Chekov's Guns were shown to us in act 2, and are not required to go off until act 3 - meaning season 3.
All of you who dismiss this and go "no one ever wrote bad on purpose just to fix it in the next season, why not accept this season was just bad" are missing the point, because you fixate on the "bad writing on purpose" misnomer. It's not bad writing. It's delayed gratification. It's setting up a payoff over more than one season. Which you can absolutely do if you have a plan, if you know where your story is going. It is what everyone still seems to expect from J.J. Abrams, even though we should know better by now. His setups never pay off, because he sets up things he never intends to resolve, never even has an idea about how they could be resolved, and keeps getting away with it. And yet, the overwhelming presence of his shitty writing in media has probably screwed with our expectations from mystery shows, which thanks to him are not very high. But I truly believe that Neil Gaiman (and John Finnemore, a frickin' COMEDY writer, for whom the setup-payoff concept must actually be like breathing) are both simply better than that windbag. There will be a payoff. Only later.
I believe we will come back to the halo. Aziraphale's Derringer Gun will be fired. The Book of Life will have meaning, even if it is different from what we might theorize. The Zombies will at least be mentioned. And I think even the weirdly framed and then forgotten Eccles cakes will make another appearance. We will have an actual, big-stakes gen plot next season. Aziraphale & Crowley will be stopping another apocalypse. It will have to do with Crowley's "all of us against all of them" line from season 1. It will have Anathema & Newt (I remember one Tumblr ask before season 2 where Neil was asked if they would come back for season 2, and he answered no, but they would hopefully be in season 3), and I personally think they're gonna regret burning that second book from Agnes. Crowley & Aziraphale will not have much time to talk about their relationship or to feel sorry for themselves, as a lot of fans seem to expect. This will not be fan-service, this will not be fan-fictionesque. The bigger picture is the second apocalypse and once again saving humanity, and saving earth. Doing that, Crowley & Aziraphale will find common ground again, they will find each other again. They will end up in their shared cottage in the South Downs, openly in love, and everything will be ok. I don't know exactly how, and I don't want to speculate too much, because that almost always ends up with me being disappointed by how canon actually turns out.
But I believe in Neil Gaiman. I believe he cares. I believe he might even care more about "Good Omens" than about any other of his creations. And I believe in the Brilliance of John Finnemore. I don't believe that he would have let Neil get away with these setups without real payoffs if he didn't see the point of them.
(And if Amazon and their greedy CEO/shareholders are the reason we won't get a third season, you'll hear about me in the news, I swear. 😡)
#good omens#neil gaiman#john finnemore#crowley#aziraphale#the magic trick theory#the magic trick you didn't see#ineffable divorce#ineffable idiots#ineffable dumbasses#good omens season 2#good omens s2#go2#anthony j crowley#south downs cottage#good omens 2#nikku.txt#aj crowley#az fell
423 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x afab!reader (established relationship)
Warnings: 18+, smut without plot, handjob, blowjob/face fucking, facial, cum eating, praise, slight degrading if you squint, a dab of female masturbation
Summary: There is no better way for Miguel to distract himself from a horrible workday then with a little assistance from you.
A/N: First time ever writing smut, so I apologize if it's horrible and it's the least sexiest thing on earth!
Word Count: 2.8K (barely edited)
The multiverse is a place that needs constant attention. It never resets, never takes a break. And for Miguel, it means the same thing. He needs to work tirelessly on it. It’s a very real possibility that if he looks away for even a few seconds, it could come crashing down with no way to restore it. In mere seconds, a world could be erased as if it never existed. Millions of lives can be lost. The people he loves and dedicates his life to protecting can slip through his fingers. He knows from experience, and he never wants a fresh reminder. He doesn't want anyone else to know how that feels.
So, it isn't uncommon for him to stay in his office, studying fluorescent yellow screens while the world is asleep. He spends more time in his office than he does anywhere else. So much so that it's more of a home than his actual home is. It's a sad thought, but he doesn't particularly mind it. He has Lyla to keep him busy and he gets the occasional visits from Peter B. and Jessica, paired by random drop-ins from other Spiders for missions. But, today's events have his face in a deeper scowl than usual. His brows creasing his skin in leftover annoyance and his eyes glaring at the information before him.
An anomaly had caused more trouble than predicted, causing great casualties and a mess of reports to read through. Every little thing seemed to make his jaw grind too. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the fact that he had been running for more than 12 hours without a proper meal, but he was snapping and growling at anyone who looked at him for too long or caused even the slightest inconvenience. Even Lyla stopped her usual teasing in favor of not being put on “Do Not Disturb” until further notice.
Of course, news of his erratic behavior had reached your ears almost instantly. You had been in your own dimension for the past few days, being unneeded for any missions and using the time to take care of any trouble in your world. This also meant you and Miguel had little to no contact for those few days. But even so, you knew exactly where to find the hunkering man at such a late hour.
You open a portal and step through, tilting your head up to stare at the floating platform. You keep your movements minimal to reduce the amount of noise as you sling yourself up, landing with a soft thud that doesn't catch Miguel’s attention. You walk gently up to him and keep your movements slow to not startle him when your hands softly land on his shoulders. Your palms make quick work to ease the knots in his shoulders as you lean down and kiss the side of his neck.
Before you even speak, hell before you even touched him, Miguel knew it was you. It was almost impossible to keep your presence hidden from him. He had perfectly memorized the way your steps sound. On any surface. He knows the way your feet drag slightly when you walk on carpet and the rhythmic pattern of your feet on hardwood flooring as you purposely walk from plank to plank. He especially knows that when you step with your right foot, the sound is lighter than the ones from your left as you walk along the metal platform of his office. And even if he didn't recognize you from your steps, your wonderfully sweet smell filled his nose the second you stepped through the portal.
"Hey, Migs. I've missed you," You whisper in his ear as you take in the smell of him. It’s one of your favorite smells in the whole world, and it drives you crazy that the only source of it you have while you’re away is one of his old college shirts that has started to smell more like you than of him.
You didn't wait for him to respond as you wrapped your arms around his upper chest from behind, earning a small nip from Miguel’s fangs to your wrist as a greeting. You giggled and moved around to sit on his lap, being sure to not obscure his view of the monitors. Miguel wraps his arms around you lazily before looking down at you with tired eyes, "What are you doing here? It's late. You should be in bed."
You tilt your head and raise a brow, "Oh, yeah? You're one to talk. After the day I heard you had, you should be the one at home sleeping right now. The multiverse knows you need it." Miguel can't fight the small smirk that forms on his face from your sass. God, he really did miss you while you were gone.
"The multiverse is inanimate. It can't form any independent or coherent thoughts and conclusions," Miguel teases back as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, it's his turn to consume your scent. It helps his sore and stiff muscles relax and he almost purrs at the comfort it provides his overused mind. You reach a hand up and massage the back of his head, earning a pleased sigh from the man. He pulls away slightly and looks back up at you, "But, seriously, why aren't you at home?"
You roll your eyes at his nerdy, know-it-all response before pecking his lips. You can't help it when he has that tired, pouty look on his face. It's adorable. "I'm here to convince you to take a break. Go to bed. We can go home and rest for a few hours."
The offer is incredibly appealing. He almost agrees immediately, the words on the tip of his tongue. But then he becomes aware of the yellow lights glowing on your skin and his eyes focus back on the screens before him. He had so much work left to do. Reports that still need to be read through, data that needs to be sorted, calculations that need to be made, earths that need to be scanned for irregular activity. The list is endless, infinite. He can't afford to rest. Even if it's what he so desperately needs and wants at that very moment.
Before he has the chance to tell you no, you press your lips to his. It's slow and it tries to make up for the time you've been away, but it quickly speeds up and turns into something more hungry as you reposition yourself so that you're straddling his lap. Miguel hums and grabs onto your hips, giving it a tight squeeze. Your hands get lost in his hair and you move from his mouth, to his jaw, and down to his neck. You kiss and suck and nibble at the skin, mumbling against him, "Take a break, Miguel. Let me give your brain a moment to relax."
A soft groan parts from his lips as your suggestive words float into his ears and down to his cock. It strains against the material of his suit, wanting to be freed from its confines. He gently grasps you by the back of your neck and pulls you face to face with him. He stares at you with red, lust filled eyes as he nips at your lower lip before smashing your lips back to his. Another heated kiss is his sign of agreement as his hands roam around your body. He grabs at what he can as he travels his hands up and into your hair, tugging slightly to earn that small moan that he knows you’ll give him.
In seconds, his suit is deactivated. It disappears entirely and you gasp as you feel his hardness press up against you. You pull away from him to catch your breath as your hand reaches out to stroke him. A sharp hiss leaves his lips as your soft hands play with his balls before your thumb comes up to rub at his tip in slow circles. His hands leave your hair to grip onto your waist, squeezing the skin through your suit as he looks down to watch you play with his dick. The sight makes him thrust his hips up into your hands and you squeeze him a little more tightly.
"Ay coño, your hand is so soft," Miguel murmurs as your hand pumps him a few times. You practically beam at his praise before you give him one last, sharp jerk.
He furrows his brows as you stop, about to open his mouth in protest before you stand up and remove your suit. It falls to the ground, forming soft padding on the hard floor before you sink to your knees before him. Quickly, Miguel spreads his legs apart so you can fit yourself between them as his hand reaches down to caress your cheek, "You look so pretty like this, on your knees for me."
You can't help the pleased sigh that leaves your lips before you press a gentle kiss to his tip. It's swollen and red, begging for attention as precum dribbles from his slit. Your mouth practically waters as you kitten lick him, earning a deep groan from Miguel. He watches attentively as you happily let his taste bloom across your tongue. It's a bit salty, but completely masculine. Completely Miguel. You run your tongue down his entire length a few times, each time stopping to suck his tip gently before continuing down and back up. You only stop when Miguel tugs sharply on your hair.
"Stop teasing, Y/N," He growls at you as he lifts your face away. You actually whimper as distance is put between your mouth and his cock. The sound only fuels Miguel’s ego, knowing how needy you are to taste him. To please him.
He guides your mouth back over him, watching as you open your mouth to take him. You hum when he lowers your face and he enters your mouth. He reaches the back of your throat, and you hold yourself there to get used to the feeling. After a few seconds, you bob your head back up, only to take him to the back of your throat again. Miguel moans and holds your hair tighter, and it encourages you to continue. He grits his teeth and lets you have control for a few minutes as you speed up.
But your control soon comes to an end as Miguel's other hand comes to cradle your head. You look up at him to find him staring at you with the same heated lust in his eyes. A low rumble vibrates from his throat when your eyes meet his. He can't help but think how pretty you are with your shiny eyes looking up at him through soft lashes and your skin all flushed from his attention. "Keep looking at me, don't look away."
He starts off slow, pushing your head down and guiding it back up. He takes his time with your mouth, jaw grinding at the warmth that surrounds his cock. He watches as he disappears into your mouth, only to be revealed again with your saliva coating him. The sight makes him feral, and he speeds up without warning. You gag as he rapidly moves your head and you bring your hands up to grip his thighs for support. Your eyes are hooded as you look up at him, moaning around his length at his roughness. You’re sure that you're forming a puddle of arousal underneath you. The scent of it is thick in the air, it smells so heavily of the both of you. It's almost dizzying.
For Miguel, it's worse with his enhanced senses. It's making it hard for him to control himself. Being able to smell your slick so heavily, knowing it's because it turns you on that he's using your mouth to get off. There isn't anything better than being completely consumed by you, by your touch, your mouth, your scent. It makes him snap. He holds your face in place, deciding it better to fuck himself into your face. He repositions his hands, getting a better grip on your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. You gag repeatedly and each time he thrusts out, saliva trails after him and runs down your chin. It's messy and primal. And you can't help yourself from trailing your hands down your body, nudging your panties over to play with your clit.
The movement instantly catches Miguel’s attention and he groans. He wishes he had a better view. His position on the chair, combined with his dick in your mouth, obscures the view of your pretty pussy. But he can still see the small movements of your body, the way your shoulder moves and the roll of your hips causes the fabric of your suit to shuffle. He almost pulls out to see more, but when your body jolts with a whine from the contact on your clit, he knows that this time he’d be satisfied with listening. You can give him a clearer view later.
“What a dirty girl. You like this so much, don’t you? You like me fucking your pretty little mouth? It makes you so desperate to touch yourself, right? Poor little Y/N,” he coos teasingly at you as he thrusts harder. Your throat contracts with more gags and it makes his eyes roll back and he leans his head back slightly. It feels amazing and he’s sure that he could spend the rest of his night thrusting into your mouth.
You feel wet and sticky, everywhere. Your chin and neck are covered in globs of spit and tears fall from your eyes. They run down your face, getting caught in your lashes and mixing with the saliva on your chin. Your body has built up a thin shine of sweat and it both cools you down and heats your skin. Your pussy is completely drenched and you can feel your arousal slide down your thighs, if it isn’t rolling down your thigh then it's on your fingers and being massaged into your throbbing bud. The constant stimulation and the pure pleasure you get from Miguel using your mouth meets in a warm ball in your lower stomach. Each thrust and circle threatens that ball to burst, and you moan to let Miguel know.
But he can already tell, even if he can't feel it physically. It's in the way your eyes are fighting to stay open and the slight twitch your body has. He knows you’re close. And he is too. His body is tightening and his thrusts are more sloppy and rushed as he lets out a series of curses and grunts. He’s trying to keep it together, but it's so hard when your desperate noises travel along his dick with such intensity. It only takes a few more thrusts until his cock twitches out of your mouth and he moans out a swear as his hot cum releases onto your face. His body shakes slightly and his breathing is irregular as he looks down at you, and the sight makes him harden again.
The thick, white fluid runs down your face slowly, some of it collecting in your mouth with your eyes closed. Your body is shaking too, and Miguel realizes you finished too. Your hand is still lazily rubbing circles on your clit, but it slows into a stop as you open your eyes again. You flutter your lashes up at him and Miguel gives you a slow smile. You return it as one of your hands reaches up and pushes some of his cum into your mouth. His eyes instantly darken as you swallow with a hum. Delicious. “Don’t want to be wasteful, right?” You giggle, resting your cheek against one of his thighs and his hand rises to stroke your hair.
He chuckles back and shakes his head, reaching over to grab napkins from his desk. He gently wipes his release off your face, letting you suck on his fingers when his cum clings to them. He throws the soiled napkins in a nearby trash can before pulling you up and onto his lap. He nuzzles his head into your shoulder, sprinkling it with slight kisses, “Thank you for the distraction, mi vida.”
Your smile widens as you kiss the top of his head, “Was it good enough to convince you to come home with me to take a bath and sleep?” The hope is clear in your voice, but so is the understanding if he decides to refuse. But Miguel nods against your shoulder and releases you when you move to get up.
You kiss his hand as you pull him up, stepping over your dirtied suit as Miguel’s reappears. He picks it up for you, holding it to his nose for a second and then letting his hand drop back down at his side when you hit his arm in embarrassment. He can only chuckle at you before activating a portal back to your place. Then, he turns back to you with a coy smile as he remembers an earlier thought, “I believe you owe me a show, anyways.”
Miguel did end up getting a clearer view that night, along with his much needed distraction.
So sorry for any mistakes with the spanish. I know next to nothing about the language so I’m limiting the amount I use it heavily. But I hope you enjoyed it!
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#marvel smut#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel ohara x you#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 smut#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#miguel ohara x reader smut#across the spiderverse smut#atsv smut
664 notes
·
View notes
Text
PROMISCUOUS BOY
prompt: your next-door neighbour keeps bringing hookups one night after other disturbing your precious sleep. exhausted, you decide to write a letter venting all your frustrations — not expecting that in the middle of all this it would reach it recipient.
pairing: blade, jing yuan x fem! reader
cw: scenario format, modern au, slightly ooc to fit the plot, suggestive themes, mentions of sex, flirt, not beta-read
reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡
Dear apt 502’ neighbour,
I understand that starting a letter with "dear" may sound a bit old-fashioned and ridiculous when I don't even know you, but I hope you take in consideration my romantic spirit as a passionate literature student and will overlook this fact.
That said, the reason why we’ve never met is mainly based on the times when I leave and get home. You see, I'm in my last year of a master's degree and the university has been charging all my time and dedication, so I barely have time to take care of myself other than to fall into bed and sleep.
But lately, in the late hours of the night, I’ve had my rest interrupted at the only moment when my mind should find peace. And I swear, I've tried to use all possible methods to prevent the noise from affecting me but it has been increasingly difficult.
Far be it for me to look for trouble because of someone else sex' life, no. I'd rather say good for you instead.
But would it be nice of you to fuck your bitches without breaking my wall in the process? I can deal with their horrible moans, but definitely not with my damaged apartment.
Be that as it may, I wish you the best intentions.
Your apt 503’ neighbour
Blade
Oh, how you hated your neighbour. You hated him so much.
There were few people who achieved such a feat since you were the most patient and easygoing person to ever exist. Not even your Languages and Cultures II’ partner who was extremely irresponsible or your idiot ex-boyfriend who still didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word break-up were able to get out of you a feeling as negative as hate. But, well, for everything in this life there was a first time, and your not-so-dear-neighbour was getting the upper hand.
When you wrote the letter on one of the dozens of nights in which his nocturnal activities seemed to be more important than other people's rest, you didn't expect a few days later for it to disappear from your desk where it belonged, much less for your friendly doorman to confirm your worst nightmare: all the mail for the week had already been sent.
What was supposed to be a joke turned into more days and nights of stress and you even considered writing him a second letter explaining that it was all just a misunderstanding and that the cracks in your wall weren't that important after all. However, when a week passed and your next-door neighbour's sexual activities began to last until the next morning, you understood that he was deliberately mocking you and, consequently, declaring war.
Now take a good look. You were a person known for your poise and calmness in overcoming challenges despite so much pressure, so it was expected that it’d be no different this time. Except it was. Because not even the calm and composure that the gods gave you could help you ignore the terrible moans in the next room, and the investment you put into that apartment was too high to let it go unnoticed.
And so, at 7:05 am on a Sunday morning, you found yourself in front of apartment 502' door knocking continuously on it as you waited not so patiently the willingness of your neighbour to finish his fuck and attend you. How a person managed to have so much sex drive was beyond your understanding, but perhaps this was due to the fact that your neighbour was an old and lonely man who must have found pleasure in the company of women only at night. Yes, that was a plausible reason.
In the end, you spent at least five minutes abusing the door’s wood without stopping. And just as you prepared to knock once more, it suddenly opened and the man who had tormented you all your nights had finally revealed himself.
Your impressions: Well, old he certainly was. Lonely? Hard to say. Now, unfairly hot and attractive? Unexpectedly yes.
When you came to your senses, you and the half-naked man spent a long time staring at each other in silence, absorbing each other's characteristics. You were clearly affected by his beauty and he was clearly irritated by your presence.
"Are you going to stare at me all the way, or are you going to say what you want?"
You blinked once, twice, three times until his words hit you, making you visibly red with embarrassment. How rude!
"First, good morning to you too," you said venomously, "Second, didn’t you read the letter, no? What part of not breaking the wall didn’t you get?"
The man seemed to take your words into consideration for a few seconds before a sneer appeared on his lips and his eyes narrowed in amusement. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his bare, scarred chest, making him more attractive than he already was.
"I don't see how this is up to you alone. After all, the wall is as much yours as it’s mine," he says and you open your mouth in shock.
"Excuse me? How can I not when it’s my side that is being damaged the most!"
"Then you better start looking for a bricklayer."
Gods, this man was impossible! You already knew that you hated him for a very insignificant reason, but now you were sure that he was more detestable than he let on. And the fact that he counts your arguments with that purposeful blank expression infuriated you even more.
"Unbelievable. Not only can't I keep my apartment intact, but I also have to spend sleepless nights because of the noise too."
"If the noise bothers you so much you can always come and join in," your neighbour offers with a small smirk, but the devilish glow that radiated from his crimson iris didn’t hide the true meaning behind his words.
Too embarrassed and disconcerted to continue the argument with the man, you angrily return to your house, slamming the door aggressively and containing the scream of frustration that bubbled in your chest.
Yingxing in turn couldn't help but think that you had a nice ass, and that annoy you was even better than he thought.
Jing Yuan
Two whole days looking for the letter all over your apartment took you to the most advanced stage of despair. Even though you had already ransacked your living room from floor to ceiling more times you could remember, messing up your kitchen and bedroom in the process, you still hadn't found a single trace of the piece of paper. And even though a part of you already knew that there was a high chance that the letter had been mixed in with the other correspondences and had been forwarded to its intended recipient, you'd rather have a hole in the ground swallow you than consider the only plausible option.
Even so, now here you found yourself: in front of the apartment 502’ door with a courage and pride that wasn't yours, sweat running down your spine and the dread of finally coming face to face with the man who not only ruined your last nights sleep, but who could very well ruin your social life too. God, just thinking that he could be a troublemaker and report you to the police, tarnishing your criminal record and your reputation as a good neighbor made you sick to your stomach.
But there was no other alternative. You had to make sure he hadn't opened the letter, or, in the worst case, consider not bringing this humiliation to the public.
So, minutes after knocking on the door, you were finally greeted by the resident of apartment 502 who, for much your surprise (or much delight) was wearing nothing but a bath towel with the steam's traces still emanating from his pale, wet skin. It suddenly became very clear to you why all those dozens of women made sure to scream “Oh, Jing Yuan!” every time they reached an orgasm.
"May I help you?"
Yeah. Fucking kill me, you wanted to answer.
The words you had practiced so much seemed to have escaped your brain and a familiar heat burned your cheeks. The embarrassment was huge, but you had already come this far and there was no going back. You only wished your neighbour wasn't this attractive, though.
"Hi. Good evening, sir. I’m your nextdoor neighbour and I wanted to know if by any chance you received a letter signed in my name", you stuttered so fast that you feared you’d have to repeat the sentence all over again since Jing Yuan didn’t seem to express any reaction for a few seconds.
As the realization hit him, though, a faint gleam of amusement crossed his golden irises and mortification hit you like a bolt of lightning.
Oh shit. He had read the letter.
"Just a moment, ma'am", Jing Yuan said with a playful smile on his lips and entered his apartment for a few seconds, returning shortly afterwards with the well-known envelope in hand.
He held out the letter and you trembled as you finally picked it.
"I can tell that this was not a letter intended to be sent, right?"
"No, it wasn't. And I'm so sorry for causing you so much trouble! God, what a humiliation! Now would be a great time to die", you pleaded into the void and your handsome neighbour laughed in response.
"It’s alright. You know, it's the first time I've received a letter from such a beautiful lady, although the content was definitely not what I expected", he said contemplatively crossing his huge arms on his huge chest. You looked away feeling more embarrassed, "Nevertheless, I also apologize for my lack of attention. I’ll be more considerate from now on."
If only it could get any worse. Here he was apologizing for having a healthy sex life when you should probably be doing the same. Having sex not apologizing, of course.
Fearing that if you said anything else your words would come out more clumsy than the erratic beating of your heart, you forced a smile to your neighbour who was now looking at you intensely in slight amusement. And realizing that if you stared back at the man for too long your role as a fool would only get worse, you came up with a quick excuse to escape from there and back to your apartment. Maybe your next letter would be a goodbye to the world because you refuse to leave your home from now on.
"Thank you for your attention and again I apologize for the confusion, Mr. Jing Yuan. It was great meeting you, really, but I need to go so have a good night and don’t mind me anymore," you bow quickly and respectfully as your face burned in red, and stumble on wobbly legs back to your door.
However, before you could enter your house due to fumbling with the wrong keys for the lock, Jing Yuan let out a light laugh and replied: “It was my pleasure to meet you, Miss Neighbour. Although, I must say that I would like to keep hearing more from you from now. This time, in person, of course."
Needless to say you entered your apartment at lightning speed vowing never to exit it again, leaving behind a very good-humored Jing Yuan.
How delightful to know that you already knew his name before he even needed to introduce himself, huh.
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#blade#blade x reader#jing yuan#jing yuan x reader#hsr#hsr x reader
146 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey, can we have a Yan!Andrew Graves with Reader?
genre: sfw, headcanons + fic
characters: yandere!andrew graves x reader
warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, obsession, possessive andrew
a/n: i don't normally write yandere characters so this was a bit of a challenge. hope this suits your request and enjoyed reading!
He's so obsessed with you but he's subtle with it—more like whatever stupid thing he does, he'll make sure you don't see it.
When he loves you, he'll make sure to keep you happy just so you will always come to him whenever something happens. He'll open a bottle cap for you without being told, he'll wipe your mouth with his fingers if it's messy—totally not putting them in his mouth afterwards. He'll open the door for you, let you cry on his shoulder, gives you hugs when you need it. Every subtle thing to manipulate you into coming back to him when you need support.
If someone talks to you, he'll be right behind you with arms wrapped around your waist while glaring daggers at the other person.
"No, no. Continue. Don't mind me, pretend that I don't exist."
To you, his tone sounds normal but to the poor guy, it's like a cleaver skinning them alive.
If someone even looks at you without you knowing, it's gonna be hell for them. He somehow won't be afraid to kidnap that person, tie them up and threaten them with Andrew's favorite cleaver until the person is diagnosed with PTSD.
He will shamelessly go back to you with a smile on his handsome face as if nothing happened.
Andrew would kill anyone for you but if you tell him not to, he won't.
Although, he knows you would be scared if you saw him murdering people, he won't do it anyways. The last thing he wants is you running away from him.
You have no idea why people start to turn their backs on you and you would think that you've done something wrong. So, you ask Andrew for advice or if he knows anything, exactly what he planned for.
And he would smile innocently from his success and spread out his arms. You would dive into his comfy sweater without knowing the hands that are holding you are the hands that have done so many questionable and criminal acts.
"C'mere you. Aw, you poor thing! I'm sure no one hates you. Who would? They're probably out of social energy from a rough day or something. Don't you worry!"
He'll kiss your forehead, then your nose, and lastly, your lips. You would smile and he would smile into the kiss while thinking how naive you are.
He admits sometimes that he feels guilty for deceiving you but what can he do? How could he come up to you and admit to all the crimes he's done? You wouldn't look at him the same anymore, would you? Would you still love him despite knowing what he did or what he ate? He wouldn't take any risks. If he has the person he loves the most in his arms, why would he easily throw you away?
If the truth hasn't been told, he'll keep you for himself. He'll keep you forever.
You knew he acted differently than normal people. He's a little different because of his upbringing, and that's normal for kids with neglected parents growing up with a weird habit of theirs and that was just his charm, right?
Because you think it was just a charm of his, you didn't run when you had the chance to. Besides, if he was so sweet to you, so kind to you, so good to you, he wouldn't hurt you, would he?
There's a reunion dinner later tonight with your old high school mates and of course you're coming. You haven't seen your friends in a long time. You've already informed Andrew of this and for the past week he was okay with it, but why is his tone now sounded . . . different?
"You're going?" He asked from the couch. One of his legs propped up on the other and an arm over the couch. His green eyes look up and down at your fit that he knows you chose the best from your closet. You're going to meet some nobodies with that outfit? You didn't even wear something so pretty when he's around! Not that you aren't pretty. It's just you put a tiny bit less effort when going out or being with Andrew.
"I've already told you, haven't I?" You're putting on your shoes at the front door and you hear some shuffling. Your hand is at the doorknob now. "I'll be back before ten. I prom—"
The door slams shut again before you could even open a crack. You can feel him behind you. His hands on the door, caging you between him and the solid wood.
"You are not going." His voice is low, almost threatening.
You turn around to face. You do not want to have this conversation right now. You're going to be late, that is if you find a way to stir this around to go your way.
"Andrew, this is unfair. Last week, you told me I can go so why are you backing out now? Tonight of all days!"
It wasn't his intention to upset you nor ruin your night but why are they taking you away from him?
"Why are you still excited about going? Don't you remember what they've done to you? They isolated you . . . remember?"
They isolated you. Yeah, right. He was the reason behind it anyways, but poor you who loves him too never suspected your own boyfriend was the culprit.
"They . . . didn't. You said they didn't have the energy to talk," your voice was almost a whisper. You weren't even confident of your own answer. You're starting to reminisce about the old days at school. Sure, they didn't talk to you anymore, but the reunion dinner is going to be different, right?
His hand moves down to lock the door but his actions made you take a step back, hitting the door. You forgot you're kind of trapped right now with no way out unless reasoning with him first.
"You don't really have to go . . ." The same hand moves up to your hair, tucking some strands behind your ear ever so gently it's almost . . . unnervingly creepy. "Do you?"
His eyebrow raised in question.
Your heart is starting to pick up its pace. Your fingertips are running cold. You don't understand yourself why you're so nervous in front of him. I mean, you had been nervous around him but this is a different kind of nervous. It's fear. Fear of him. However, he never hurt you yet. He never raised his voice to you. He's always been nice and sweet to you. But you really can't help this weird feeling.
So you slowly tell him how you feel.
"You're scaring me."
And there it is. It hit something in him. It's the last thing he wants, but the first thing to make you listen to him.
You can see his facial expression changes from demanding to guilt.
"Love, there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just me!" His caging arms now freeing you while backing away a bit, most likely a tactic to show you he's innocent. "I'm just saying, wouldn't you be left out at dinner? I don't want my pretty girl coming home sad and disappointed when the past week you've been so excited about this dinner."
Andrew takes your silence to continue. "Stay here. With me."
You really want to insist on going yet you don't want to risk starting a fight. But it's unfair! You always let him win you over, now he needs to listen and let you go. Maybe a small chance could probably lead to a huge success.
"But please!" You drag the word longer, hoping he'll give in. "I haven't seen my friends for I don't how many years. It's just this once."
You seem energetic again. He takes this chance to step closer, a hand on the side of your face. His thumb brushes along your glossed lips you put on earlier, smudging it. His gaze move up from your lips to your eyes.
"I'm sorry, darling, but no means no." He said it so softly before he kissed you longingly. You somehow melt into him despite your disagreement. He's really not losing—like always.
He broke off the kiss to continue persuading you to stay. "I'm doing this for your own good. Sometimes you're too naive to be staying around them. You're too nice. I've seen it. And it hurts to watch you being used and throw you away."
You exhale a deep breath from the stress. Maybe Andrew's right. Maybe you are too naive to realize. They asked you for homework and notes, but then one day, they stopped talking to you. Maybe they really did see no use in you they've fulfilled their satisfaction.
But Andrew . . . Andrew never stopped talking to you. Andrew never threw you away. Andrew was always there through it all. Andrew never left you by yourself.
Like right now.
"Okay," you spoke softly, like a whisper, before nodding your head. "I'll stay in with you."
Good thing you were looking at the ground because now, Andrew can't hide the big smile on his face. He successfully manages to keep you by his side. His heart beats rapidly from the excitement, his skin was buzzing. He can be with you tonight. He can stay with you. Just the two of you!
He pulls you in his arms and strokes your hair. "That's my good girl. Always so obedient." He kisses the crown of your head before leading you to your bedroom so you can change to a more comfortable clothes.
He dreams of having you by his side forever but he doesn't want to go to extreme measures such as locking you in or tying you up. Maybe not just yet. Since you're so good to him and love him too, you deserve to roam around freely until you start to disobey.
He wouldn't want to do it but tonight, he was close to doing so just from how persistent you were.
#the coffin of andy and leyley#tcoaal#andrew graves x reader#andrew graves#andy graves#andy graves x reader#yandere#yandere andrew graves#yan!andrew graves#andrew#graves#the graves
304 notes
·
View notes
Text
Good Together | 2
Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader
Summary: Reader is a single mom and the new Social Media Executive of the club and Mason falls in love with her at first sign.
Word count: 3598
Read part 1 here and part 3 here
Author's note: English isn't my first language. There's going to be a part 3 (final).
Am I permanently broken? Or is it just the sunshine blues?
Could you keep those arms wide open? In case I get these legs to move
The next day you felt like you were playing the game of hide and seek with Mason. Or the game of cat and mouse. It was like you were back in high school, trying to avoid an awkward scene with the boy you liked.
Much to Mason's chagrin, you ignored him all week. It was amazing that you were working in the same place and it was somehow as if you didn't even exist. But when your team got him, Reece and Ben to sit down for a little game for the YouTube channel, he thought it was finally his chance to see you and talk to you, but even then you weren't there.
"-It'll only be for about 10 minutes, not too long. Understood?" Both Reece and Ben nodded as Mason stared at the door, playing with the board that your team had given him to write down his answers, waiting for you to come in with your professional look but with that cute little smile you always had for everyone. "Mason? Did you hear me?" Reece nudged him with his elbow, rousing him from his thoughts.
"What? Yes, let's do this."
You didn't know it, but you both felt that the week was the longest in a long time. The control you had to exert not to run into Mason at the club and not reply to his messages was draining you.
On his side of the picture, Mason felt he pushed you away even more. Whether he was waiting at your office door, standing in the car park, or sending you a message, he felt like his chance had fallen through.
"Have you seen Y/a?" He asked Kai.
Kai thought for a while as he packed his things in the bag. "No. Actually, I haven't seen her since the day you took Noah home. Why? I thought you said it went well. Did she say no?"
He put on his jumper and sat down on the bench. "She didn't say anything at all." He heaved a sigh. "She's been ignoring me. I haven't seen her all week."
"Have you tried calling her?"
"Yeah. She's not picking up."
"Maybe she's not working." At that moment Ben walked in with his bag over his shoulder. "Hey, have you seen Y/a?"
"Yeah. I just talked to her outside." He said, looking at his phone.
"WHAT?" Mason quickly ran out of the changing room and bumped Ben on the shoulder. He looked left and right, but the hall was empty. He turned right towards the exit that led to the car park, but when he got there, your car was nowhere to be seen. "Fuc--"
After you put Noah to sleep, you sat down on the sofa. A blanket over your crossed legs and your laptop open. You opened your email and downloaded the final cut of the new video for the YouTube channel.
The video was halfway through, and the only thing you could analyse was Mason's face. With each passing minute, you could feel yourself getting hotter and bothered. Without realising what you were doing, your hand crept under the blanket as you wore only an old t-shirt over your panties.
"Why are you watching a video of Mason?" Your son's voice made you cringe and you shut the laptop faster than necessary.
"Noah, what are you doing up?" You couldn't see, but you knew your face was redder than a tomato.
"Is it a new video? I want to see it." He sat down next to you.
You pushed the laptop and the blanket off your legs. Noah looked more awake from the second. "It's not ready yet. You'll see it when it's released." You made him stand up and Noah groaned.
"But why can you see it and I can't?" You thought the 'why, but why, but why' phase was over, but it didn't look like it.
"Because it's my job, remember?"
"When I grow up and if I can't be a footballer, I'll want to be like you." For a moment you felt proud, until his next words. "At least then I can still be closer to my favourite players."
You rolled your eyes. "Sure buddy. But to be a footballer or to have a job like me, you need a good night's rest, so, go back to bed." Noah said goodnight and ran back to his bedroom.
You dropped back on the sofa with your hands in front of your astonished face. How could you be so careless that your son almost caught you getting intimate while watching a video of one of his favourite players. You grabbed the pillow next to you, pressing it over your face and screaming into it.
Shit, you really liked him too.
The week was finally over and you had successfully ignored Mason, even if it was hard for you. It was Friday and the first night you would have a girls' night out since returning to the UK. It was one of your friends birthday and after having dinner, the night would end clubbing. Something you haven't done for a long time.
Noah was spending the weekend with your parents, to their delight, and the house felt empty, but a night out was just what you needed to get Mason out of your head.
You took one last look in the mirror before grabbing your handbag and leaving the bedroom. You were wearing a simple black dress and a leather jacket over your shoulders. When you left the house, Sofia, Kai's girlfriend, was waiting for you in a taxi. You had met Sofia after watching a few matches at Stamford Bridge and you became close friends immediately. After you introduced her to your friends, they felt the same way and the group became bigger and funnier.
"Let's party!" She said as you got into the taxi.
Since Sofia wouldn't be home, Kai decided to invite Mason and a few other players for pizza, beer and video games. Just like you, a night out with friends was just what Mason needed instead of being at home crying over you.
"Mase, you're losing again!" Christian commented, patting him on the back. "Focus."
The doorbell rang and Kai got up to open it. "Leave him alone. He's going through a heartbreak right now." He laughed from the hallway.
Mason didn't say anything and kept trying to play. He had been very quiet and all the boys had noticed.
"Is she still ignoring you?" Ben asked him and Mason just nodded. "Speak up!" He stretched from the chair and gave him a kick in the leg.
"Ouch!" He complained and ended up losing the game. "Yes, she's still ignoring me. I haven't even seen her all week." His bad mood was starting to come out. "That's most likely a sign to back off. She probably has someone." He put the remote back on the coffee table and took a sip from his beer.
Christian rolled his eyes. "Have you seen the way she looks at you? Don't start imagining things just because she hasn't fallen at your feet, dude. Give her more time."
"How much time do I have to give her? Why can't she say if she likes me or not? Simple as that." He mumbled.
"I don't know if you noticed, but her life isn't easy. She became a mother at 16, as far as I know Noah's father was never in the picture, she works in a man's world while raising a seven-year-old boy. Maybe she finds it a little hard to believe that a football player with his career ahead of him wants to have a serious relationship with a woman who has a son to look after."
"But I do."
"So you need to tell her that."
"Pizzas are here!" Kai said.
You were waiting for another drink at the bar, when a cute guy approached you. He introduced himself and you did the same. He was tall, handsome with dark hair. He was exactly your type.
"Can I buy you a drink?" His voice was deep and he had a beautiful smile.
"That won't be necessary." You were already tipsy and flirting wasn't something you were used to doing.
"Why? Do you have a boyfriend around here somewhere?" He came closer and propped his arm on the bar.
Without thinking, a picture of Mason popped into your head. "Ah, no. I don't." His smile widened even more and at that moment you began to compare him to Mason. His smile wasn't as beautiful as Mason's. Mason's voice was softer and calmer, while the man in front of you had a deep and husky tone. As your drink was set down in front of you, you took that as an opportunity to move away. "Uh… I've to go. My friends are waiting for me." You muttered an apology and left the man behind.
You sat down next to your friends and the anniversary girl grinned at you. "Who was that hot guy? Still breaking hearts wherever you go, girl?"
"Stop it. He just wanted to buy me a drink."
"And why didn't you let him?"
"Because she likes someone else!" Said Sofia from the other side of the table. You gave her a pleading look to be quiet, but as she had already drunk too much, she did just the opposite.
"What? No way. Who is it?"
"No on--"
"Mason Mount." Sofia said and, taking a sip from her drink, she gave you an innocent look. You groaned and hid your face between your hands, while the rest of the girls looked at you surprised. "But guess what: He likes her too. He already confessed." The gasps around the group made you want to disappear from embarrassment.
"There's nothing between me and Mason. We're just friends." The girls kept looking at you, waiting for you to develop the subject. "I'm not looking for a relationship and you know that."
"Why? He's a good guy and it seems like he really likes you."
"After Noah's father I---"
The boys had already left, leaving Kai and Mason alone to clean up their mess. Mason didn't really want to go home and since Sofia would kill Kai for the mess they had made, he decided to stay and help him clean up.
"Do you think she'll notice the stain on the pillow?" Kai asked him with a serious tone.
Mason couldn't help but laugh. "She's a woman, of course she'll notice."
He groaned. "I'm going to hide it in the car to take it to the laundry tomorrow. Maybe she won't notice it's gone."
Mason laughed at his friend's exasperation and continued to clear the empty bottles and cans into a bin bag. It had been a good night and it didn't look like it, but his friends were good at giving advice.
He was emptying an unfinished bottle into the sink when he heard Kai's phone ring. "KAI? The phone!" He shouted.
He heard something falling followed by a curse. "It must be Sofia. Pick it up please!"
Mason put the bottle into the bag and washed his hands before picking up the phone with Sofia's photo. "Hey Soph! It's Mason, Kai's a bit busy." He could hear the loud music in the background.
"Mason?" Her voice sounded confused for a moment. "Oh Mason, yes it's you." She giggled. She was clearly drunk and when Kai entered the room, Mason decided to put the conversation on speaker. "You're exactly the person we need."
They both propped their hands on the kitchen island and looked back and forth between themselves and the phone. "What are you talking about? Do you want me to tell Kai to come and get you?"
Kai decided to stay quiet to see what his drunk girlfriend was up to. "No, no, no!" She said softly. "It has to be you. Oh, this is just perfect."
Mason looked at Kai with a questioning look and Kai shrugged. "I mean, sure, but why me? I'm with Kai."
"I need you to take my friend home." Mason didn't know Sofia had gone out with you, but Kai quietly picked up on what his girlfriend was up to and what friend she was talking about. "She's totally drunk and doesn't want to go home. And besides, she's a mega fan of yours."
Kai looked proudly at the phone. Even drunk and with her heels most likely in her hand already, his girlfriend played matchmaker between her friends. "Sure babe. Mason and I will pick you up."
"Oh, hi gorgeous!" Her voice became soft and more girly when she heard her boyfriend's voice. "You two are the best. Love you." She didn't wait for an answer and hung up.
Mason looked at his friend speechless. "You drive and drop us at home first." Kai said, already picking up his house keys.
"Why? It's her friend."
"Her house is closer to yours."
The rest of your friends had already left a few minutes ago, and you and Sofia were waiting outside the club for the lift that you believed was Kai.
You had drunk too much and the next morning you would most likely regret it, but you didn't remember the last time you had so much fun with your friends.
"I think I won't be able to get up from bed tomorrow morning!" Sofia muttered. Leaning her head against your shoulder.
You laughed and agreed with her.
Mason had just taken a turn into the street of the club when he instantly saw Sofia sitting on the sidewalk with his supposed fan.
"What the--?" He looked at Kai and his friend gave him an apologetic expression. "You didn't say her friend was Y/a."
"Forgot to mention that." He joked. "See it as an opportunity. Now you can talk to her."
Mason stopped the car in front of the girls. "While drunk? Yes, that's a great idea." His sarcasm was visible on his face.
"Who knows, maybe she'll confess that she likes you too. Drunk words, sober thoughts."
You had your eyes closed and were humming along to the music coming from the club. You didn't want to go home, but Sofia had dragged you out and explained that it was already late.
You opened your eyes again when you heard a car door close. To your surprise, you saw Mason's car parked in front of you. For a moment you thought you were hallucinating.
You both looked at each other while Kai picked up his girlfriend who told him how handsome he was.
"What are you doing here?"
He held out his hands for you to take. "Let me help you." You looked at his hands as if they were something new. "Please."
Hesitantly you took his hands and he pulled you up. You let out a surprised cry and one of his arms wraps warmly around your waist, holding you tight.
You stared at his lips. "I'm going to kill Sofia." You mutter. "This is a bad combination."
"What is a bad combination?"
"You and me. When I'm drunk."
Mason smirked. "Let's take you home. Come on."
Mason helped you into the front seat and put the seat belt around your body. You looked around the car while Mason sat in the driver's seat. Sofia was already sitting in the back seat next to Kai, her head on his shoulder and her eyes closed.
You looked at him intently. He drove silently, concentrating on the road. He looked good every day, but he looked even hotter in your drunken state. When he looked at you again, you quickly looked out the window and for a second you felt dizzy. Mason noticed and took out a bottle of water from the compartment of his door.
"Here. Drink this." You took it and thanked him. "Kai, does Soph want one too?"
"No, mate. She's already in dreamland."
You had fallen asleep, because the next moment Mason was whispering and running his hand up and down your arm.
"Y/a? Wake up. You're home." His voice was soft and very calm.
You looked outside and saw that he had parked in front of your house. He helped you get out and for the first time that evening his perfume got up your nose, and unlike the other days it wasn't good for you.
"Oh, my god. No!" You pushed him away, surprising him. You supported yourself against the car door and looked down feeling everything come up in your throat.
"You okay?" He ran his hand over your back, but didn't come too close.
You took a few deep breaths. "Your cologne is making me sick." Sensing it was a false alarm, you looked at him again.
"What is making you sick is the alcohol!"
You walked to the front door, Mason following close on your heels, making sure you wouldn't fall.
You leaned against the front door and looked at him with the most innocent expression he had ever seen on you. "Are you mad at me?"
You looked so carefree that he couldn't help but fall a little more in love with you. He just wished you'd be like this around him every day.
"Why would I be mad?"
"Because I have been ignoring you." Mason knew you'd never admit it if you weren't drunk. Most likely, you would say that you had been busy with work or that it was just a coincidence that he hadn't seen you all week. "It's not like I wanted to ignore you. It's just difficult to be around you."
Mason wanted to hear more, but he felt like he would be taking advantage of you. He wanted to know your reasons but when you weren't drunk.
"We'll talk about that another time, okay? Give me the keys, and I'll help you inside."
You run through your handbag, looking for the house keys. "Oh."
"Can I see?" You handed him the handbag, and with the light above your door, he looked inside it. "Did you lose your keys? Look in your jacket pockets."
You started laughing when you felt the pockets were empty. "I think I gave them to Sophia."
Mason looked at her with his mouth open. "Why? You don't have a spare key hidden?" You shook your head. Mason scratched the back of his neck. What would he do now?
"Oh look, it's Bobby!" You said about your neighbour's cat and started to walk away, but your feets got tangled, and almost fell down if Mason hadn't grabbed you and pulled you to him.
"You're coming home with me!" His hand slid down and locked with yours.
In the car, so you wouldn't fall back asleep, Mason asked you about your night, and for the rest of the ride your voice was the only thing he heard. And how he loved to hear your voice.
At his house, he grabbed your hand again and walked you through the hallway.
You looked down at your hands. "Why do they fit so well?"
He opened the door to his bedroom and let you in. "Because they are meant to be together." He cringed at his own clingy words.
The bedroom was nice, but the only thing that caught your eye was the big bed that looked more comfortable than yours. You crawled into the bed and let out a sigh.
Mason smiled at your boldness. "Let me take off your handbag." He made you sit and pulled out the handbag from around your body. "Can I take your jacket and heels?"
He was really sweet and you nodded. He took off your jacket and then kneeled down, taking your heels and placing them next to the bed. You quickly fell back down on the bed.
You saw him walk toward, what you assumed was the closet. He said something, but when you didn't answer he came out, with a t-shirt and joggers folded in his hands.
"Hm?"
"Do you want to put on something more comfortable?" The light wasn't that bright, but you could see the visible blush on his cheeks.
"Sure." You sat up. Mason placed down the clothes on the bed and was going to walk away when you grabbed his wrist. "Can you help me with the zipper?"
Your drunken self was a tease and Mason could feel his insides burn. You stood up from the bed and turned your back to him, taking your hair from the way.
Mason swallowed the lump in his throat and grabbed the zipper. He cursed under his breath and started to pull the zipped down, more slowly than necessary, torturing not only you but himself.
"Did you make a bet on me too?" Mason furrowed his eyebrows. "To see how many times you can get in my pants?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Men only want me for that. What's so different about you?"
The dress was opened and he turned you around. "The difference is that I like you. A lot." He was starting to realise what happened to your relationship with Noah's father. "Is that so hard to believe?"
"You could have any girl in the world, so yeah, it's hard to believe."
He cupped your face. "You're the only woman who makes my heart flutter. Just say the word and I'm putty in your hands." He pulled back the covers and sat you down. "Change your clothes and go to sleep. I'll be in the living room if you need anything. Goodnight Y/a."
"Goodnight, Mason."
Tags
@honethatty12 @ricsaigaslec
#mason mount x reader#mason mount x you#mason mount imagine#mason mount imagines#mason mount#mason mount fluff#mason mount fic#mason mount x y/n#footballer imagines#footballer x reader#footballer imagine
694 notes
·
View notes
Text
To love You in an Old Way
Jasper Hale x human mate reader
Summary: Reader is a fan of old school love
Warnings: None, just pure fluff
A/N: This one-shot was inspired by this song I been listening on repeat lately, its called "Amarte a la Antigua" or "To Love You in an Old Way" by Eslabon Armado. I added lyrics from the song onto this (Spanish is my first language so translating was easy) From just that song theres another song I listen from this group and another one shot idea came to idea. There will be another A/N in the end. Enjoy :)
(You can never forget your first love for a Vampire)
“Today we no longer write letters to fall in love
Today the flowers are no longer seen”
I have never been serenaded by gifts or even experienced all those old school love gestures. I always said I had no interest in being serenaded but secretly I wished that everything you see in the movies could happen to me. The endless romance books I have drowned myself in so that I could try to picture myself in those romantic scenes leaves me with an unsaid desire. But it is an unrequired thing, guys at school just don't work like that anymore
“Where has that romance gone?
There are no longer poems to conquer each other
Now only emails are sent”
That is until a certain cowboy came into my life, Jasper Hale. I always admired him from a distance and didn't really approach him in any way until he awkwardly but oh so adorable came up to me one day and said “Hello y/n would you like to go out with me to a bookstore in Port Angeles”. The way he had a hint of anxiety in his eyes and how he flexed his arms behind his back left me curious as to why he was so nervous to talk to me. From that moment 2 years ago today, we have been together ever since, and yes I do know about him and his family being vampires and his past even. There are days where he has to be away from me to control his thirst but I never feel disappointed or hurt. I do always praise him for how far he has come to being able to be around me without the feeling of wanting to drain my blood in a second.
But the thing I absolutely love about Jasper is he is an old school lover, makes sense since he is old but he does everything you would see in the movies. At first it started with just short poem phrases left inside my locker or in the books I would read,
“Loving you the old way, stealing your smiles
Hold your hand, open the door for you, write you poems
love like before”
And from that he started to write full on poems, one of them being called “To love you in old way”, which just hits my heart in every way. He then started to give me little gifts, nothing fancy yet unless you count chocolates but he would give me little drawings he's done throughout the day or once he gave me a bracelet he made that had a small heart and rose charm. I still wear that bracelet to this day.
“Fill you with roses, sing you songs, paint you caresses”
When he writes me poems, he leaves them in my bedroom with a bouquet of my favorite flowers each time. The way he loves me is something I never knew could exist, he's so suave with his southern charm and the way he can sit for hours listening to me talk just makes my heart swell. Many would assume just because he's the reserve type he lacks being a romantic type, but when me and him are alone he says some of the most dazzling and mesmerizing things that can put any poet to shame
Like just a minute ago he said this line
“In you, I have found the love that fills my soul”
And with his Texan accent, it made it more personal.
“Was that an Edgar Allan Poe quote?”
“It was, I figured you would like it for the reason being you love his works”
“Oh you know me so well cowboy”
He smirked slightly and pulled me into his embrace so my back was against his chest while he was leaning against a tree.
“I like how you learned quotes from his works to woe me, even if he focuses more on the dark and terror of life”
“Well one thing I have grown to know about you is books are a key to your heart”
“Yes true, and food, don't forget food”
The way he laughs makes me melt into him more, his laugh is quiet like the sounds of small bells ringing, so angelic yet at the same time so bewitching.
“I could never forget that about you darlin”
I thought about our first date, I was internally panicking and was overthinking constantly of what to say to him, I was debating to just be myself or my quiet self. What made me loosen up with him was he gave me this aura of calm, at the time I didn't understand how but with that feeling I relaxed and was able to finally be myself. Since our first date was at a bookstore, he held all the books I wanted and he didn't protest or anything, actually he would recommend books or I would catch him sneaking books into my growing pile. After that date, we just knew we fit like a puzzle, it was then confirmed later that Jasper and I are mates which confused me since I am human.
We would spend hours either in his room or mine reading and then talking about it afterwards. He really is my missing piece to my soul. My parents even approved of Jasper and would be happy to have him over or even letting him stay the night or vice versa. They knew Jasper was the perfect gentleman and wouldn't do anything to hurt me, which is true in every way, even if he does have his days where he struggles with his thirst control.
“Penny for thoughts?”
At hearing his voice through my mist of memories I answered “I was just thinking about our first date”
“What about it?”
“Just thinking how we fit like two puzzle pieces”
He kissed the top of my head and mumbled quietly
“You have no idea how true that is”
I grabbed his hand and traced his visible veins. I would often do that to make him relax more and in a way it comforted me. As for him I noticed he would bury his face into my hair, he says my hair smells like flowers and I could feel him melt everytime he did that.
“Can I ask you something”
His sudden voice in our quiet bliss startled me
“Yea? What's up?”
“Well I have a supplication for you”
I raised an eyebrow at that word but pulled away from him so I could face him.
“Supplication? You never fail to amuse me with your formal words but continue with your supplication”
His radiantly affectionate smirk spread onto his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled a small box out, seeing that box my eyes widened slightly, is it what i think it is? With opening the box I can already see the twinkling diamond shining through
“Darlin’ the moment I meet you I felt I could finally breathe again, I felt somewhat human once again and my dark past did not cloud my mind as much, I don't know what I would do if I were to ever lose you or let you do, that might sound selfish but damn dang it I love you doll, Will you do me the honor and marry me?”
My tears were already building up when he barely said his first words. The man of my dreams is asking for my hand in marriage and the way the sunlight was hitting him made him look so surreal, it felt like we were in a dream at that moment.
“YES Jas, YES!!”
His smile widened and he placed the ring on my finger in an instant and pulled me into a deep kiss. This kiss didn't feel like any other kiss we had in the past, it felt like all our past deception vanished and it was just me and him in this whole world. And to think this all started with me craving for that old antique love gestures.
“Love you the old way, love you like before”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I love Jasper, as I said in one of my past post, he was my first Vampire love until well I discovered Felix but I still love him never less. I have another idea for a one shot with another song but this time it will be about Caius, hence to why I have one of his quotes in my bio.
#jasper hale#jasper hale x reader#jasper whitlock#the cullens#jasper hale imagine#twilight renaissance#twilight fanfiction#twilight imagine#jasper whitlock x reader
126 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
linuxtechschool
LINUX TECH SCHOOL
by-inky
lost in paradise
ksider
I Love Ecchi
hiheydb-blog
yellow light
onlinevisauae
Untitled