#i’d like to think they keep in touch post series
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Broken Together
BlackCat!reader x Bucky Barnes
Chapter 5/6 : <Prev/ Next>
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: Talks of violence, suggestive language
A/N: okay so I fully planned to do a smut scene but then I chickened out because I've never written one before so.... sorry. ALSO: keep your eyes peeled for the kickoff post of my 300-follower (holy shit) celebration along with chapter 3 of the Fluttering Hearts series, both will be coming out before the end of the day!
You nod a solitary nod and reach for the door handle.
“I love you.”
That stops you cold in your tracks.
“Don’t say that.”
“That’s not really the reaction I was looking for if I’m honest.”
“Well what did you want me to say James?”
“I don’t know, really anything but don’t say that. I tell you how I’m feeling and you know that I’m not good with that feeling shit and your reaction is to tell me not to say it?”
“Jesus Bucky, I can’t ever tell with you! Two minutes ago you were giving me the silent treatment and being all pissy and now you tell me you love me? What am I supposed to do with that?!”
“I- just… I spent the whole night worrying about you, you were back there in that room all alone with those bastards and I couldn’t get to you. I just had to listen through comms and hope and pray to whatever God there is that you come out the other side.”
“Bucky, I can take care of myself.”
“I know that, really I do. I have never ever doubted that you could handle yourself but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying when you go somewhere I can’t reach you. It’s bad enough I had to watch you hanging off that asshole all night. Watching him touch you in the way I’d wanted to all night.” Bucky’s hands tighten around the wheel. You watch as he swallows something caught in his throat.“I watched and stood there like an idiot while he held you close and made you laugh and did everything I’d been dreaming about. I couldn’t look away though, as much as I wanted to becuase even a glimpse of your smile is enough to make all that shit worth it. But then I hear you being threatened, I watch you walk away with the target and not even five minutes later he pulls a gun on you? It took everyhting in me not to run to you, not to burst in and protect you with all I have.”
“I don’t need your protection-”
“I know that! Goddamn it I know that! I know that your amazing, that’s the only thing that kept me from running in there, knowing how good you are. How good my girl is at her job, she doesn’t need me, but I really fucking wish she did.”
“You’re girl? I’m not your girl James I- you don’t even like me?”
“What?! Why the hell do you think I don’t like you?”
You scoff, “You give me shit all the time. You call me Fury’s pet and you never fail to let everyone know just how much you don’t trust me.”
“I trust you, I trust you with my whole life, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“You have a funny fuckign way of showing it.” You cross your arms over your chest, this whole night scratch that day has been a total fucking emotional rollercoaster, you almost died and now here you are. The man who you love to hate and hate to love is spouting all kinds of heartfult shit and you’re reeling, I mean… what are you supposed to say to that?!
Bucky takes your silence harshly, he tries to fill the space with as many words as he can. He knows that he’s not good at this shit. He isn’t James Barnes the ladies man from the forties anymore, he’s too broken for that. But he can tell your broken too, and maybe you can be broken together?
“When I say that I love you, I mean it. I mean that I can’t stop thinking about you, when youre not next to me it’s like i can’t breathe. When I hear you laugh or see you smile my whole world lights up. God even when you’re yelling at me an throwing pillows and shit I can’t help but feel like a goddamn wire. I don’t know when I realized it was love, if it was months ago or minutes ago but I’m not taking it back. I don’t think I can ever take it back.” Bucky ends his rant with several big breaths. The whole time he was talking, his eyes never left the road, his hands never left the wheel.
“James, I- God fuck. I’m not a good person. I don’t deserve good things. Anyone i’ve ever been close to has told me the same shit, i’m too broken to be good to anyone.”
“Yeah. You’re broken. You’re a smart-mouth little piece of shit who doesn’t lok after herself and can’t follow a sleep schedule for the life of her and I love you.” He finally looks into your eyes.
“I don’t need a perfect girl, I don’t want a perfect girl, someone to hang off my arm and laugh at my jokes and just stand there looking pretty? I’ve had that and it gets boring really fucking fast. But you? I could spend the rest of my life trying to figure you out and I really really want to.”
“I’m not easy, and I don’t think I ever will be.”
“I like a challenge.”
“Well,-”
“Jesus, Stop trying to talk me out of this, I want you. I want you and all the messy shit that come’s with that.”
“I’m running out of reasons anyway.”
“What does that mean… for us I guess?”
“It means that if you can get us back to the hotel within the next five minutes I’m gonna let you see the pretty little number I have on underneath this dress.”
Bucky slammed on the gas.
_____
It took the two of you four minutes to get to the hotel, the entire time people were honking at your car weaving through traffic. You’re really fucking surprised that the two of you didn’t get pulled over.
Four minutes is a lot of time though, especially when your nervous as hell and have a penchant for self-sabatage. You don’t know how this is going to go. This is brand new territory for you and honestly your shitting bricks right now with how nervous you are.
It’s not like you’ve never been with anyone, but Bucky is the first guy that you’ll genuinely care what happens when it’s over. Most of the guys you’ve been with before have been the type to only want something physical from you, not that you were complaining, you had needs and they were willing to fuffil them. They just didn’t want to date you, and never once had any of them used the L-word.
You’re still reeling from Bucky’s confession. You have no idea how long he’s felt this way but the more you think about it the more it makes sense. For as long as you’ve known the man he’s been difficult to read, he build walls as easily as you do and he uses them to block out 99.99% of people in his life.
Now that you’re really thinking about it you’re astonished at how much he told you tonight. You guess having a gun pulled on the person you care about really makes you want to tell them everything you’d been holding back.
You’d be lying if you thought that there wasn’t something you also wanted to tell Bucky when you heard the safety click off. You don’t know if love is the right word, not yet but you do know that he means just about the world to you. The only person in your life who really seems to see you and understand what you’re thinking. You’ve always liked working with Barnes, it was easy, but now you think there might be something else to it.
Bucky pulls into a parking spot right at the front of the building and within seconds he’s by your door opening it and offering you a hand to step out.
“Eager?”
“Very.”
He pulls you out of the car but doesn’t step back, he crowds you in every sense of the word. You see and smell and think nothing but him. This close you notice the little things that you hadn’t before, like the little piece of hair that keeps falling onto his forehead, escaping the gel holding the rest of his locks back. Or the way small scars he has, one above his eyebrow, a line to the right of his lip, a little triangle under his eyes. You could spend hours studying him, he doesn’t give you that long tough,
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, moving closer to your mouth. You don’t answer, just push yourself into him. You practically melt at the little groan that falls past his lips.
His hands fall to your hips almost instintually, the grab ahold of you firmly not willing to let you move even an inch from his hold.
His mouth moves passionalty against yours, he takes his time really trying to get to feel you, to taste you. The pulls away only enough to get air into his lungs, resting his forehead agaisnt yours. God he could kiss you for a lifetime and even a bit longer than that.
“That was…” you start.
“Yeah.” The corners of his lips turn up into a genuine smile. You love his smile even if you don’t get to see it that often.
“James?”
“Yeah Kitty?” He giggles… this grown ass man giggles into you.
“Take me upstairs, these people don’t need a show.” You nod your head at the gathering of people outside, trying and failing to make it look like they weren’t just staring.
“Gladly.”
#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#plus size reader#plus size!reader#fanfic#x reader#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#requests wanted#requests open#blackcat!reader#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader#bucky barnes imagine
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debbie is the only character in the entire series who never looked down on svetlana for her work or called her by some derogatory name
#obviously only counting characters who actually spoke of svetlana#fiona ian mickey mandy kev and v all had some shit to say at one point or another#but debbie only ever had nice things to say about svetlana#and was the only one who always saw her as an actual person#i don’t think it’s a coincidence that svetlana took a liking to her#svetlana is extremely perceptive and aware of the way that people see her#it would not have been lost on her that debbie always respected her and didn’t reduce her to ‘russian handwhore’#i’d like to think they keep in touch post series#shameless#svetlana yevgenivna#debbie gallagher#shameless text
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High Rise ft. IVE Wonyoung
Pairing: IVE Wonyoung x Male Reader
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 2.4k
Tags: Daddy kink, Exhibitionism, Choking
A/N: i said i would didn't i? probably the fastest i've made a fic recently which also means please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes you find. might not be my best work but it sure was fun to write o7
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction/parody
Dating a k-pop idol wasn’t easy. Especially when you were a so-called commoner. There were the obvious reasons, like you had to keep your relationship a secret until they reached their thirties, if you made it that long.And the not-so-obvious reasons; like watching your girlfriend parade around in sexy stage outfits and having to contain your desire to fuck her in them.
Or maybe that was just you.
When your girlfriend was Jang Wonyoung, a hyper-popular It girl – you cringed at even thinking those words aloud – the restrictions were even worse. Like that one time you had wanted to bring her flowers at her group's concert in Seoul and had to be snuck backstage with a bag over your head. Or the time someone had caught the two of you flirting candidly and Wonyoung blurted out that you were her cousin to save face. Embarrassing but somehow also cute when it came from her.
All this was to say it wasn’t easy.
But it certainly wasn’t without its benefits.
“Fuck, that one looks so good, princess,” you praised.
You snapped another photo as Wonyoung posed, biting her bottom lips and giving the camera a smoldering look. She hooked her fingers into her hip-hugging jeans, tugging them slightly as you quickly snapped another series of photos.
Honestly, you were somewhat shocked when Wonyoung told you her idea. It had felt provocative, mature even, and thus far each photo had proved that assumption right. But you rarely, if ever said no to her, even if her motivations were somewhat questionable. In fact, you wondered if this was all your fault.
“You left a like on Yuna-nim’s photo,” Wonyoung had said at the time. Her tone carried an accusatory hint.
“Did I?” you had stammered, trying to play naive. “I was just scrolling my feed and must’ve double tapped.”
“So you follow them?”
“Them?”
“Other girl groups,” Wonyoung clarified.
One thing you had learned about the IVE princess was that while she was sweet as a button on most days, she carried a jealous streak that verged on volatile. Sharing was not in her programming, least of all when it came to you.
You had recognized the trap forming but it had been too late. “Well, I mean, just to keep up. You know you do challenges sometimes and appear on their feeds.”
Her arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked to the side and slight pout was all the answer you needed.
That week you had gone without any physical contact from your girlfriend. Though she made sure to send you the filthiest selfies possible throughout. Which, oddly, worked. Because no matter how much you touched yourself to the photos she sent, it didn’t compare to the real thing.
It had seemed like the incident was over and in the past but as you snapped a few more photos of Wonyoung by the windowsill, you briefly wondered if this stemmed from it as well.
“Are you sure you’re going to post these on Instagram?” you asked, after a particularly racy photo.
“Mhm,” Wonyoung nodded. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Remember the bathroom?”
“Oh, I remember.”
You also remembered the ones that hadn’t made it to social media and were sent directly to you. But this still felt even more daring than this.
“How many likes do you think this will get?” she asked, coolly, giving the camera a sultry look. An innocent question. At least on the surface. But you remembered her comment one night as you two relaxed together.
“Besides, it’s to promote the sponsor, that’s all. This will get the most engagements,” she added. Her gaze dropped and a small smirk formed on her lips, “In fact, I’d say it’s already working.”
You followed her gaze, looking down to see a rather obvious tent had formed in your sweatpants. You laughed, a flush coloring your cheeks. “Well, shit. Can you blame me?”
“I guess I can’t,” Wonyoung said coolly.
The way she unbuttoned the top button of her jeans, spoke to more mischief however.
“Wony,” you wet your dry lips, “Are we still doing the shoot?”
“Mhm “ she nodded cutely, “Of course.”
She did another pose, pushing the waist of the jeans down to expose the lace underwear she had on underneath.
“You know, I love it up here. It’s perfect,” Wonyoung said. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah…” you muttered, more focused on the sight of her exposed abs and smooth skin than her question.
By here she was referring to the penthouse you were using for the photoshoot. Funny enough, she could easily afford a place like this on her own. Though that would only spur on more talk about inequality among the rookie group.
“Being so high up…” she turned her head to look out the window. Your breath caught as you watched delicate fingers slip inside of her jeans. “We can see everything but no one can see us. Even if we were naked against this window they’d never know…”
Now you weren’t the smartest bulb in the room. In fact, sometimes you wondered if it was your self-proclaimed himbo status that Wonyoung liked most about you. But even you could put two and two together. And Wonyoung’s words combined with the side-eyed glance she was giving you were all screaming one thing.
“I could show my naked body to all of Seoul and no one. would. know.”
Her tongue pronounced every syllable while she locked eyes with you. As sweet and kind as Wonyoung could be she had an undeniable minx side to her. You were also fairly certain your girlfriend got off on the power high of being such a desired person but you had never actually confirmed that.
If you were starting to get hard when she pointed it out earlier, you were practically aching now. You tossed your phone onto the couch and made your way over to where Wonyoung was by the window. She let out a delighted squeal as you pushed her up against the glass, kissing her passionately.
Your hands moved against her stomach, feeling her toned abs that were shown off by the outfit she was wearing. Honestly, you should send a bouquet to whatever designer sent this to her to promote. You nipped at Wonyoung's bottom lip, your hands sliding into her unbuttoned pants to squeeze her ass.
"It took you long enough," Wonyoung gasped, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "I thought was going to have to beg you to fuck me."
Your cock twitched, straining painfully against your jeans, "You still could you know."
She must have been in a good mood because the idol looked at you with large eyes, biting on her bottom lip. "Please fuck me against the window, daddy."
Oh.
You see, it had taken some time but you learned that your girlfriend had two modes. The arrogant queen who knew all of Seoul was her playground and made you worship at her feet. Then there was the submissive princess who begged to be pleased until she was satisfied. Often her mood was some mixture of the two but neither one left you unsatisfied.
"If that's what the Princess wants," you growled.
A delighted smile crossed the idol's features followed by another joyful squeal when you spun her around to face the window. Her hands rose, catching herself as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. You could see the aroused flush creeping up her neck and coloring her round cheeks.
"Didn't you say something about showing everyone your tits?" you whispered in her ear.
Not waiting for a response, you pulled her top down, exposing her tits to the cool glass of the window earning a gasp from Wonyoung in response. You pressed further against her, the bulge in your pants pushing against her ass.
"This whole shoot was just to rile me up, wasn't it?" you said, your breath hot against the shell of her ear. Your hands moved quickly to yank the jean pants she was wearing, exposing the white lace panties that she had teased you with a peek of earlier.
"Maybe," Wonyoung mewled, arching her back perfectly.
Your hands hooked into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down to reveal her bare ass to your hungry gaze, "Bullshit. You knew what you were doing."
"Maybe I just wanted to remind you of what's right in front of you," she said.
There it was. That switch up she was capable of. It also confirmed your theory that your girlfriend hadn't exactly forgiven and forgotten about the Instagram incident. Well, there was no time better than now to put the matter to bed. You gripped your cock, slipping it between her legs to get it slick from her dripping sex.
"Oh, I'm well aware of what's in front of me," you started. Slowly you began to slip your thick cock inside of her, inch by inch with each syllable. "The most beautiful." More. "Talented." More. "Gorgeous." More. "Perfect." More. "Princess."
"Fuck!" Wonyoung moaned, her forehead bracing against the window.
"Is the princess feeling full?"
"So, so full…" she cooed.
"And I didn't even get to mention how good a girlfriend you are," you teased.
You could feel her pussy quivering around your length, stretching to accommodate the familiar intrusion of your cock. Wonyoung's hands were splayed against the windows of the high-rise, her ass pushed out and into you. She was on full display and only you were lucky enough to see it.
You could take it slow with steady, languid strokes, gently fucking your girlfriend against the window. But something told you that wasn't what she nor you wanted at that moment. Your fingers flexed around her waist, pulling out your cock until just the tip remained inside of her before thrusting your entire length back inside of her. Wonyoung's body jolted with pleasure as she braced her nude body against the window.
"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Harder. "To know how much you turn me on." Faster. "To see how fucking hard you get me." Deeper. "No one else makes me like this." Repeat.
A mixture of mewls and moans fell from the idol's mouth at your relentless rhythm. Her head fell forward, her cheek pressed up against the glass. Perspiration was starting to form across her flawless skin and you had to resist the urge to lean forward and lick it up. You wanted to prove a point, to fuck Wonyoung to the point of exhaustion for the whole city to see. After that maybe you'd enjoy the little perversions.
"You probably say that to every - fuck - every girl," Wonyoung panted, glancing at you from over her shoulder. "You're probably just waiting to move onto the next idol you're drooling over."
She didn't say it with enough conviction for you to believe she truly felt that way. For starters, while Wonyoung may get jealous, she was not insecure. At least, not enough to ever think another idol was above her. It was more often a toxic possessive kind of jealousy. But nonetheless, in the heat of the moment you'd take the bait.
"Is that what you think?" he said, your breathing growing heavy with your harsh thrust. Conversation wasn't exactly easy at this pace. "Did you miss what I said earlier, huh?"
One hand moved from her waist to slip around Wonyoung's throat. She inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat as you squeezed. For a passing second there was no sound save for the repeated slaps of skin against skin as your hips were flush against Wonyoung's ass each time you entered her.
"I only want you," you finally gasp. "Always you."
Rather than another vulgar display to go along with your words, you merely lean over her, capturing her lips in a sideways kiss. It's messy and imperfect but it's also loving and passionate. Your tongues dance together all while your bodies remain intertwined. You can feel Wonyoung pussy quivering around your cock intensely as she moans into your mouth. When you pull back, you look at your girlfriend with a raised eyebrow.
"Did you just cum from that?" you asked.
"S-shut up," Wonyoung retorted. You noticed a bright red hue of embarrassment coloring her cheeks before she hid her face, "Don't stop until you finish inside of me,"
It was always adorable when she continued trying to be dominant after her own orgasm. However, her words had an undeniable effect on you. "If that's what the princess wants."
You returned to the task at hand, focusing your efforts solely on chasing your first release and Wonyoung's second orgasm.
"Daddy," Wonyoung mewled, finding her voice. "I want you to cum, daddy. I want you to cum deep inside my tight pussy.""
You had a sinking suspicion that her words were payback for causing her embarrassing moments earlier. Her attempt at provoking you to blow your load sooner than you had intended to.
Regardless it worked to immediate effect. Your hips jerked, slamming against hers from behind. Your sweat-drenched body pressed flush against Wonyoung, pushing her up against the high-rise window. Your cock twitched, ropes of your sticky seed shooting inside of her womb as her walls convulsed around your length.
Of course the two things that pushed her over the edge would be you saying how you loved her and her revelling the power she had to make you cum on the spot. Truly a representative of her duality.
After a moment had passed and you began to regain your bearings you pressed a kiss to Wonyoung's shoulder.
"That was incredible, Wony," you muttered.
"I know," she said, her form practically radiating. "You weren't bad either."
You let out a chuckle, placing another lazy kiss to her skin, "Maybe we should've included that in the photoshoot."
Wonyoung smiled but didn't immediately respond. After a moment of delay she turned in your arms to look at you.
"Did you mean all those things you said?" she asked.
Her wide eyes looked at you and you reached up to brush aside a strand of sweat soaked hair. There was no hesitation in your response when you answered her.
"Absolutely. And don't you think otherwise for a second."
A smile beamed across the idol's face and she leaned forward, burying her face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around her and quietly you wondered if you weren't the luckiest man in the world.
BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.
#wonyoung smut#ive smut#girl group smut#ive imagines#wonyoung imagines#ive x reader#male reader#wonyoung x male reader
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could you write something where cooper is talking the reader through it, but like, super sweetly and lovesick?
Talk Me Through It, Baby
Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!! And some domestic fluff)
CW: NSFW MDNI!! Established relationship, lingerie, flirting, cursing, reader being all enticing, 🤭 p in v, unprotected sex, p0rn w/o plot, domestic Cooper, irradiated cream pie, fingering, oral, (fem receiving) praise, Cooper talking you through sex and making love to you, slight OOC Cooper, slight deviation from TV series
AN: the creative juices are flowing people! I’m loving it, thank you all to have given me asks, it has been so much fun getting to write stuff for you guys! I think i may be done posting for today and have a busy rest of the week ahead of me but keep a look out within the coming weeks for those whose asks I have not done yet! I haven’t forgotten you lovelies, I promise ❤️ hope I did your ask justice, Anon! Enjoy some smut and domestic fluff! 🥰🤠
It’s days like these that made you remember just how nice it was to live a domestic life back in the day. No worries of murderers at your doorstep, no worries about food supply running too low, radiation sickness, it was just perfect. You could bake, you could cook whatever you could get your hands on, but the best part? Was when Cooper walked through that door after a long day to see the beautiful smile that would light up your face when you would greet him. You’d come up to him, greet him with a “welcome home, honey!” Followed by a sweet, soft kiss as his hands would fall to your hips once he’d make it through the door of your home in the settlement. You wished it could be like old times, but this was the closest to that that you’d gotten and you were proud of it. You had a nice home that almost was completely patched of all holes, working appliances thanks to the electricity you got going, clean water, food and some furniture to really spruce things up.
It was the activities that transpired after dinner however that left you both the most excited for when we would be home. You smiled cheekily as you returned from the bathroom, sitting against the doorway clad in a nightgown that you had made for yourself from collected fabrics. It was soft and silky, yet slightly see through, adorned by lace cups and lace around the bottom as it flowed out yet also hugged your frame. One where it left very little to the imagination of what lay underneath. “What do you think?” You asked excitedly yet with a sensual calm tone, making Cooper look up at you with a grin. He whistled as his eyes roamed your figure, loving the way it hugged your curves just right and let your pert nipples poke through the lace. “What do I think?” He asked, standing up and walking towards you, meeting you half way as you sauntered into the room. “I think you look like a dream come true, sweet pea” he said, his hands coming to rest on your hips as yours looped around his neck with a smile. “You like it? I made it myself” You asked, knowing by the tent in his briefs and the smirk on his lips that that answer was obvious. “Oh I love it” he said genuinely, trailing his hands along the smooth, silky fabric as he looked down at you with a soft smile before pulling you in for a kiss. You hummed contentedly into it, removing his hat from his head and placing it on your own with a chuckle into the kiss. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were propositionin’ me, little lady” he said, making you grin up at him with that half lidded look of mischief and love in your eyes that he just couldn’t get enough of. “Maybe I am” you answered as your eyes flitted between his and his lips, your hands coming to rest against his chest softly, just enough touch to tease, yet enough to make him chase after you for more. “Then let’s take it for a spin, hmm?” He asked, making you giggle softly before a light gasp left your lips as he leaned down, planting sweet kisses to your neck, making your eyes flutter shut in bliss. Your arms held him tighter, pressing your chest against his as his teeth found all your weak spots, being sure to exploit them to work you up even further and hear those beautiful sounds he loves so much. “Cooper…” you sighed, your head falling back at the feeling of his rough hands running along your body, grabbing at anything he could get his hands on. Between kneading the pleasantly soft flesh of your ass, to fondling your breasts, he just couldn’t get enough of you.
“Always look so pretty for me, sugar” he said, making you smile at his heartfelt compliment as he worked at the straps of your hand-tailored nightgown. “I always do my best for you” you replied, making him chuckle. “Don’t need to, you’re perfect as is” he responded, watching as it fell off of you with ease, the fabric pooling at your feet as he kissed you. He felt your hands smooth over his shirt as his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the gin and sweet cherries you had with dinner, making him groan. You always tasted so damn sweet, so addictive. Sugar-Bombs be damned, you were 100% of his daily value of sugar and he wouldn’t want it any other way. When he noticed you had nothing on underneath, he couldn’t help but grin. “Look at you, you’re just so damn gorgeous, what’d a bastard like me ever do to get so lucky?” he complimented, making you smile giddily at his continued compliments. “By being you, Mr. Cooper Howard. Wouldn’t want you any other way” you replied, making him give something between a groan and a chuckle as your lips came to his neck. “The bed looks awful empty, what’dya say we change that?” You asked, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed as he chuckled. “I like the way you think, sugar” he replied, watching as you sat down on the bed before him, looking to him expectantly. “C’mon don’t be shy now, tell me what you want” he said, but rather than speak your mind, your hands spoke for you, finding their way to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up to where he’d take it off. He chuckled. “How ‘bout these? Want these off too, sweet pea?” He asked with a grin, knowing the answer before you even shook your head yes to confirm it. “Go on, take ‘em off for me. I know you like it more when I let you do it” he said softly, bringing your dainty small hands to his belt buckle, watching and helping you undo it and the button to his pants before taking a hold of his zipper with your teeth, and bringing it down. He groaned watching you toy with him, his fingers gliding through your hair, scratching your scalp before moving down to your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. “Eyes up here, darlin’” he teased, a grin on his lips as your pretty little doe eyes squinted with your smile, completely love drunk. He watched as you placed your fingers to his hips, helping pull down his pants and briefs as you looked him in the eyes the entire time. “Good girl, so good at it you ain’t even gotta look” he said, making you bite your lip and giggle as excitement was nearly tearing you apart, but you were being good. Patience was key, he loved drawing things out with you to where you were left absolutely crazy for each other.
“Sit your pretty self back some, let me have my dessert” he said, making a pleasant tingle flow through you straight to your throbbing clit. You did as you were told, scooting back a little and resting back on your hands as you spread your legs for him. “There ya go, nice ‘n wide for me, perfect. Look at you, so pretty for me. ‘f I had film in that old camera I’d snap a picture just to keep around of this sight” he said, making you grin up at him, the look in your eyes full of need as he got down on his knees at the edge of the bed. His lips trailed searing hot kisses up along the insides of your thigh, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most before placing the most feathered light kiss to your clit. Your hips bucked up involuntarily out of need and anticipation, a moan leaving you before you whined as he lavished the other thigh with kisses. He gave an amused chuckle. “Patience sweetheart, you’re doin’ so good for me. I promise it’ll pay off” he said, trailing back up to your soaking cunt where he’d placed soft, searing kisses to your clit, making your eyes flutter shut once more and your head drop back with a moan. He groaned at your taste, at the way one of your hands rested on his bald head to tell him how good he made you feel. He looked up at you as he let his tongue lull out, running it up your slit to your clit, flicking the tip of it against your sensitive nub. You keened at the sensation, your chest rising and falling drastically with the harsh inhales and exhales of your pants and moans, a small smile turned the corners of your lips as your eyes were shut. “Cooper…” you moaned, and it was music to his ruined ears. “Taste so good sugar, I swear it’s like you’re made of it” he said, placing a playful bite to the inside of one of your gummy thighs, earning a louder, surprised yet pleased moan in response. “Fuck…” you panted, making him chuckle as one of his fingers prodded your entrance, sliding in all the way to the knuckle as his tongue flicked against your clit in a rhythm that had you bucking your hips to meet his mouth. “Feels s’ good, please..” you begged, feeling him curl his finger inside of you to rub against that sensitive bundle of nerves. He was going to be the death of you one of these days, you swore it, he was too damn good at this. He watched as you looked down at him, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of him eating you like a man starved. He gave a wink at you as your gazes met, smirking into you as he felt you get closer and closer. “That’s the spot, ain’t it sugar? That’s it, doin’ so good for me, I know you’re close. Let go for me honey, I’ve gotchya” he said, keeping that delicious pace with his tongue and fingers rubbing that spot inside, it didn’t take long for you to do just as he asked. With a moan you came on his fingers and his tongue, a low, feral groan leaving his throat and rumbling his chest as you did. “Good girl” he praised, making you whimper as he withdrew his fingers. his mouth and chin shining with your slick and his spit. He used his fingers to wipe it off, looking you in the eyes as he sucked on his fingers to remove it, groaning at the taste as he licked his lips clean.
He climbed up on the bed over top of you, leaning down to kiss you which you graciously accepted, unbothered by the taste of you on his lips and tongue. “Ready sweetheart?” He asked, making you shake your head yes at him, enjoying how desperate you were for him. He leaned back to rub his tip through your slit, collecting your slick and mingling with the pre-cum that beaded out from it. “Don’t tease, Coop..” you begged, making him chuckle. “I know, I know, just makin’ sure I don’t hurt ya” he said, before easing his way into your tight cunt. Didn’t matter how many times you two had sex, the stretch always burned at first but subsided into nothing but absolute bliss. “Doin’ so good for me, doin’ okay sweetheart?” He asked once he was fully sheathed inside you, waiting for you to tell him when to move and making sure you weren’t in pain. You looked up at him, that smile that he swore was the brightest thing in the universe eased all his worries. “I’m good, Coop. You can move whenever you’re ready” you said, making him chuckle as he leaned down to kiss you again, starting a soft, slower pace. He didn’t want to fuck you tonight, didn’t want to have sex with you, no. He wanted to make love to you, show you how much he loves you, show you how much he worships the ground you walk on. He wanted to give you everything you ever wanted and more just to see that pretty little smile in return, it’s all he ever asked for. You both moaned into your shared kiss, his one hand holding yours by your head, fingers intertwined with each other as the other rested on your hip. Your free hand roamed along his scarred back, your head tipping back as his thrusts were deep and calculated. You shut your eyes as his lips roamed your neck, once again abusing the sensitive skin to hear your voice sing for him. “Feel so good honey, like you were made for me” he said, making you hum at the thought, you certainly liked to think so. “Maybe I- hah~ was” you said between moans, making him chuckle dryly. “Maybe you were” he said, his lips attaching to one of your breasts, his tongue laving over one of your nipples as his other hand toyed with the other between his thumb and finger. You moaned as your head fell back against the pillows, hair fanning around your head like a halo. You were ethereal, he swore it. His perfect little angel to keep him out of too much trouble, but just naughty enough to keep him on his toes.
“I love you so much, darlin’. Love everything you do for me” he said, making you smile warmly. “I love you too Cooper, and everything you do to- I mean *for* me” you said playfully, making him laugh at your witty joke, feeling the way your gummy walls hugged him tight, fluttering around his cock as he kept a good steady pace. “Felt you tighten around me, go ‘head, let go for me baby. I’m here” he said, bringing his thumb down to rub tight circles against your clit, leaving your back arching off the mattress and a wide O shaping your lips. “Fuck…Cooper, cum with me, please…inside” you said, making him groan into your neck as he buried his face there. “Anything for you sweet pea” he replied, moaning into your shoulder as you held onto him for dear life, knowing your orgasm would hit you hard. And that it did. You saw white stars flash in your vision, as your body arched up from the mattress once more, pressing yourself to him as your walls clamped down around him, milking him of everything he had to offer you as he painted your walls white. You panted as you rode out your highs, his lips coming to yours for a sweet, gentle kiss before resting his forehead against yours.
As you both lay there, basking in the after glow, he couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes. “What’s that look for, hmm?” You asked teasingly, making him chuckle. “Just that I found the love of my life” he said, so casually as if it were common knowledge, making you give him that beaming smile he loved so much. Your hand came up to cup his cheek, rubbing the irradiated skin with your thumb as you closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his once more. “Good, because I’ve been lookin’ at mine for a few months now, wondering when you’d finally admit it” you said, making him laugh along with you as he pulled out, got you both cleaned up and hooked you up to some RadAway. “Maybe I’ll go down to the market and getchya that ring you were eyein’ last time we went” he said, making you look at him astonished. “Oh Cooper, you ain’t gotta do that! You know how many caps that’ll run you?” You asked, making him laugh. “Does it look like I care? Besides, if it’s that ridiculously expensive, no one ever said anythin’ about spendin’ the caps if the person sellin’ it ended up missin’ somehow” he said with a grin, making you grin as you kissed him, only he could make murder look so good.
#fallout x reader#fallout smut#fallout#cooper howard x you#cooper howard smut#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard#the ghoul x you#the ghoul smut#the ghoul#the ghoul x reader#asks
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You're My Best Friend (Homelander x Reader)
Summary: Homelander was a test tube baby, raised in isolation in a cold, clinical lab. But that doesn’t inspire America, does it? Vought tasks you with creating the idyllic backstory for its hero, and what starts as a limited comic run spirals out of control when Homelander himself demands your help in making the story a reality.
Note: Gender neutral reader, but no other descriptors are used. Based on a request by @crash-and-cure as well as a bastardization of one of the sweetest love songs ever written (sorry, John Deacon!) This got kinda meta? Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: Emotional manipulation, I guess some gaslighting on Homelander’s part? Do not interact if you’re under 18.
When Vought hired you to create their long-awaited Homelander origin comic series, you were thrilled—until they gave you so little information about his childhood to work with, you weren’t even sure you could come up with one comic, let alone the ten they requested. The details about his childhood were minimal, not even a full printed page—a loving mom and dad, played baseball, did well in school, strong sense of justice from a young age, his friends called him “Johnny.” Your requests to meet with Homelander so you could get some stories from the man himself were constantly denied.
You almost considered dropping the project, until you decided to throw caution to the wind and pull from your own childhood and set it in good ol’ generic suburbia. Some of the storylines were based on your own experiences or things that had happened to people you’d grown up with, though you changed enough names and details to not link it to anyone in particular. Except yourself, of course. Using a pseudonym professionally meant you felt no need to change your own name in the comics. Sure, making your cooler fictionalized self Homelander’s childhood best friend was a bit self-indulgent, but no one would know, really.
To your relief, the editors at Vought loved your ideas, making minor changes before bringing the storylines to their comic artists to bring it to life. The result was Finding Homelander: A Boy’s Journey To Be a Hero. The issues flew off shelves when they were first released, ironically praised for their relatability and authenticity. Vought extended your contract, asking you to produce the cartoon adaptation and another ten issues.
Still, in all of that, you’d never met Homelander. A representative from Vought emailed you to let you know to tune in to his interview on a talk show one day, saying that he’d be talking more about the cartoon project on it. You recognized the host, Tracey, always chipper and having some extravagant giveaway for her audience members. Daytime TV was never your thing, though.
“I think what resonates with so many people is how relatable your childhood is,” Tracey said, holding up a copy of Finding Homelander issue #3, where he saved ‘you’ from getting hit in the face with a baseball at one of his games, catching it with ease. It’d been the happy ending to a short storyline of him struggling to find his place on the team and you encouraging him to not give up. “You and Y/N were pretty close, do you still keep in touch?”
“You know, Tracey, not as much as I’d like, unfortunately. Adulthood can be so busy, you need to cherish those childhood memories,” Homelander said. “I did give them a call when the comics first came out, and wow, the laughs we had over those old antics of ours. Talk about a walk down memory lane!”
You guessed the bullshitting was all part of the promotional circuit for Homelander. Knowing this childhood of his was your own fabrication, you couldn’t help but wonder what else about him was fake. Maybe he wanted to maintain his privacy, you could certainly understand that. You couldn’t shake the voice in the back of your mind that said it wasn’t so simple, that the narrative Vought pushed was a cover to hide something in Homelander’s past.
“Now, I’ve heard rumors of a cartoon show based on the comics in the making, is this true?”
“It is! I’m excited for this project, getting back to my ‘roots’ so to speak. I’ll be voicing myself, of course, but it’s funny you’d bring up Y/N, because they’ve agreed to voice themself, too.”
“How fun!” Tracey exclaimed over the roar of the talk show crowd’s applause and cheers. “I guess this is the hopeless romantic in me, but I hope this reconnection leads to something a little more. I’m just a sucker for childhood sweethearts!”
Homelander laughed along with the host’s giggles, “Well, you never know.”
You balked at the television, mouth agape. Surely he couldn’t be talking about you. ‘Y/N’ could be anyone with your same features. Vought had probably hired a professional voice actor for the role and were pushing the authenticity angle. The whole situation felt odd.
When you checked your work email again on your phone, you nearly dropped it on the floor.
SUBJECT: Meeting with Homelander This Week
The email contained a list of days and times throughout the week wherein Homelander would be free, apparently wanting to meet you to thank you for the success of the comic series and discuss upcoming work. Yeah. That last part you sure as hell wanted to discuss too. You responded with the soonest time available, in a meeting room in Vought Tower the following evening. As soon as you hit ‘send’, you wondered what exactly you were getting yourself into.
Anticipation filled your gut as you went about your day leading up to meeting the supe himself. What would he be like, really be like? Was there even a version of Homelander that wasn’t hopelessly manufactured for the masses? You knew then that his upbringing was a lie, and thus stood the probability that so much else was, too.
When you stepped into that meeting room, you hadn’t been expecting his face to light up at the sight of you.
“Homelander, hi, it’s great to—“
“No need to be so formal, Y/N! You can call me Johnny, just like old times,” he said cheerfully, in on a joke you clearly hadn’t been aware of.
“Sorry, Johnny,” you said, playing along. “It’s great to see you again.”
He pulled you in for an unexpected hug that you returned. “Figured we should catch up before things really start getting crazy, don’t you think?”
You nodded, your nose brushing against him as you did so. Just as your lips parted to offer an apology, he smiled, shooing away the assistant who’d accompanied him out of the room.
He sat down, motioning for you to do the same.
“Gotta say, I’m a fan of your work,” he said.
“Thank you,” you said. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what’s going on, though.”
“What’s there to understand? I’m not allowed to know more about my best friend, our lives together growing up?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“Wasn’t hard for me to put two and two together, but considering everyone else around here has their head up their asses, they have no idea,” he said, before lowering his voice conspiratorially and giving you a charming smile. “I haven’t told anyone. What’s a secret between friends?”
You nodded, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention on you. “What do you want to know?”
He sighed, resting his head on his hand. “Everything.”
So you told him. Not quite everything, of course, but enough to abate his curiosity. At least for the time being. His interviews were sharper, more specific with details rather than rattling off whatever had been in the comics. You watched in shock as convincing photos of his Little League days were posted to his social media accounts, anecdotes provided by his increasingly frequent conversations–or more like interrogation sessions–with you, but in his style, of course. It was almost scary what the graphic design team at Vought could accomplish, not that you’d ever know how, exactly, as they were all under the same strict NDA that you were.
He started spending more time with you, too, and after a while, it did seem like you were old friends. Part of you flinched whenever you called him Johnny, because Johnny wasn’t even real, but with your complacency, this fabrication was slowly morphing into a strikingly tangible memory. With each conversation, he drew you deeper into the world you’d been paid to create for him until you found yourself slipping up.
You’d been showing him a goofy stuffed monkey on your desk, a cute little thing with big sparkling eyes. A prize for getting two out of three at the ring toss. Probably spent more money winning it than it was actually worth, but it was about the effort, the memories made.
“You remember, don’t you? You won it for me at the county fair,” you said without thinking.
He laughed in agreement, as if he actually had. Except he hadn’t. Your high school boyfriend won it for you a week before graduation. Sensing the mood shift, he set down your prize and looked at you with the same intensity he had when you first met.
“It’s been a while since we were there, huh?” he said. “Why don’t we go back?”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “Go where?”
“Home.”
With a strong arm around your waist, he took off for your hometown. You could hardly tell which way was up or down, he was flying so high, but he didn’t seem to mind the way you clung to him at all. When he finally landed, you recognized the community baseball field where all of his fictional games were set.
“Geez, it’s like nothing’s changed,” he said cheerfully.
You looked at him in disbelief. How long was he going to expect you to go along with it? Or maybe the question you should have been asking was, how long were you going to enable him? The end wasn’t anywhere in sight as he took your hand, and you walked him through your childhood, further enmeshing him in it until you arrived at the house you grew up in.
The middle of the day, no one was home, and so you let yourselves in like you owned the place. Suddenly, the house seemed too small for a man like Homelander to occupy, but he was engrossed in the details of it. He scanned the kitchen, no doubt inspecting the contents of the fridge and cabinets with his x-ray vision. Moving onto the living room, he stared at photos on the wall, the magazines and DVDs that were strewn on the coffee table, giving away your parents’ taste in entertainment.
“Which one was your room again?” he asked.
You swore you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as you wordlessly led him to your room. Each step down the hall felt dangerous, as if you were about to walk into a trap. Face-to-face with the closed door, you opened it, standing aside while Homelander looked around, from what you had hanging on the walls to the knick-knacks you’d left behind.
An uncomfortable tension settled over the room when Homelander closed the door of your childhood bedroom. An odd blend of hurt and amusement spread across his face as he observed the way you were eyeing him, body ready to fruitlessly run from him the way a rabbit would a hawk.
“C’mon, after how long we’ve been friends, I would never hurt you,” he said, as if reading your mind. “We’ve been through so much together. I mean, we were each other’s first kiss.”
You froze. Issue #9. That was something Vought’s editors had added, claiming a romance angle would make the series appeal to the younger female demographic. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time.
He slyly backed you into the wall, leaning over you as you slinked down the slightest bit.
“Show me how we did it,” he whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. “So clumsy and nervous, I can even feel you…quivering.”
“Homelander, I don’t know what you’re—“
He tsked. “Y/N.”
You let out a shaky breath, “Johnny—“
He hummed in satisfaction. “It’s alright. I know it’s been a while.”
You let him kiss you, sweetly in a way that put your actual first kiss to shame. His lips were soft against yours, his tender movements intentional as he cradled your face, pulling you the slightest bit closer to him when you kissed him back.
A sense of familiarity settled over you, warm and comforting like pulling a blanket out of the dryer on a chilly evening. Every time it seemed like you were beginning to overthink the situation with Homelander, he drew you back in with the kiss, a more than effective distraction until you pulled away with a dazed smile on your face.
#homelander x reader#homelander x you#the boys x reader#the boys x you#the boys tv#the boys amazon#homelander#homelander the boys#the boys
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Learning to Live Part 32
summary: It’s the night of his bachelor party, and a sober Javier gets a call from his very drunk fiancée asking him to pick her up from her bachelorette party. Three days later, it’s their wedding day, and Javier hasn’t seen or talked to his bride since the night before—they’d agreed not to see each other until it was time to say ‘I do,’ and his father took it one step further by having her guarded to keep Javier away. Will that really stop him from going to her before the big event (with his eyes covered)?
rating: M (This chapter is very story-driven, BUT there’s a little bit of inappropriate touching. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), Drunk!Reader, bachelor/bachelorette parties, emotional hurt/comfort, dysfunctional family, Javier taking care of you while you’re drunk and when you get sick (it’s very sweet), grief, discussion of pregnancy, WEDDING, getting ready for the wedding, Chucho hardcore not letting you see each other before the wedding, blindfolded Javier sneaking to where you are anyway, tying his bow tie, nerves, panic attack, EMOTIONS, Javier crying when he sees you in your dress, EXTREMELY romantic things said, Javier being cute with kids, you both wrote your own vows (did I mention emotions and romantic things said?), Chucho being a great officiant, (1) bible verse about love with no mention of God/Jesus/anything religious, crying, comedy sprinkled in, a fun and heartfelt chapter)
pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (no physical descriptions)
word count: 23k+ (Tumblr hates my long chapters and might not let you reblog with a comment. Since reblogs are super important, if you wish to comment, feel free to do it in the comments on the post or send me an ask. 🥰🥰🥰)
a/n: Get your tissues ready; it’s time to get married! 🥹🥹🥹😭😭��� First of all, Happy Birthday to this story! 2 years old! I just want to thank everyone who’s continued reading this labor of my love. All the comments, reblogs, and likes mean the world to me! They make me want to write more, too. I know there’s no smut in this one, but, in my opinion, I think it’s still really good, and the people who’ve read it agree. There also was literally no opportunity for them to be alone and do anything more than touching—you can blame Chucho for keeping them apart. But the next chapter? Oh, it’s on. It’s gonna be so horny. Lol Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing. I love you.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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In the year 1981, Ronald Reagan was sworn in as the 40th President of the United States and almost assassinated two months later; the Space Shuttle Columbia became the first crewed reusable spacecraft to return from orbit successfully, and the wedding of Prince Charles and Diana Spencer was watched by over 750 million people worldwide.
It also happened to be the year Javier Peña’s life went to shit.
Looking back at all that happened, he could pinpoint the exact moment everything went wrong. It wasn’t disappearing in the early hours on the day he was supposed to be wed; it was six months earlier when he let a pretty girl, who never once acknowledged his existence in the several years they went to school together, buy him a drink—that was the beginning of the end. That was the start of his downfall and had his life veering off course.
By the time his wedding to Lorraine had rolled around in early September, Javier was at the lowest he'd ever been in his twenty-two years of life—so depressed, hopeless, and scared that he became numb and was just existing instead of living. Back then, he still had buddies in Laredo with whom he'd gone to high school, and though Lorraine didn't let him hang out with them much, she approved of them throwing him a bachelor party the weekend before their nuptials were supposed to take place.
He hadn't wanted one.
Who would want to celebrate marrying someone they didn't love or even liked? Marriage to Lorraine was a prison sentence, and his only crime had been dating the wrong woman. It’d also be a cruel reminder that he’d lose what little freedom he had in a week’s time.
His friends had known him for many years, having practically grown up together, and they were well aware of Javier’s dread. They had tried to talk him out of going through with it on multiple occasions, but he always stood firm that he wouldn’t abandon his child and their mother, and that he got himself into the mess, and he needed to own up to it—plus there was Lorraine’s father who told Javier he’d never meet his kid if he didn’t marry her.
To stop his pals from worrying about him, he finally agreed to the party and tried his best to act like he was fine when, in reality, his world was crumbling.
It may come as a surprise, but he was once a very social creature who had a lot of friends in his youth—his three closest had been Benito Esquivel, Salvador ‘Sal’ Soto, and Ken Miller. These were the guys who packed him into Sal’s moss green colored ‘72 Chevrolet Blazer and took him on a road trip to Austin, where they went bar hopping and ended up at a strip club, as was the course for bachelor parties.
Javier drank so much that night his memory was spotty on all that had happened, yet he distinctly remembered a moment when he was completely wasted in a private room at the club, crying while getting a lap dance and the kind stripper comforting him in the middle of it.
His first bachelor party didn’t go so well and wasn’t something he liked to think back on. He wished he could rip that entire chapter out of his life, but it was important for shaping the man he became—it began a chain of events that would eventually lead him to finding the perfect woman he was meant to be with—the one who truly loved him, wanted nothing more than for him to be happy, and filled that part of him he’d always been missing.
Cielito was the love of his life, his soulmate, his media naranja.
And they shared the same kind of love his parents once had, which he’d always dreamed of having but never imagined he’d actually get to experience.
His buddies had tried to keep in contact with him after he ran away, but he was too ashamed of how he left and didn't want their pity. It wasn't until his mother's funeral in '91 that he saw most of them again, and though he appreciated them being there, he kept them at arm's length. Even when he returned home in '93 and '96, he continued avoiding them because he wasn’t the same Javi they once knew, and he didn’t want to see the looks on their faces when they realized how fucked up he’d become.
Now, he was having his second bachelor party seventeen years after the first, and he couldn’t be happier celebrating that he was getting married in a few days.
This time around, his dad planned the party, and there wasn’t any bar hopping or strip clubs. Instead, Chucho got Javier’s tíos (uncles) and male primos (cousins) together for an asada (barbecue) in his backyard.
It was close to midnight, and he knew the party wouldn’t end any time soon. His family were sitting in groups, taking up the picnic table, or sitting with him in lawn chairs around the large fire pit, which was currently ablaze, with the tall flames licking up toward the sky. He’d already eaten and was nursing his third beer over the many hours he’d been there, the bottle in his hand resting on his jean-clad thigh. The fire and his black leather jacket were keeping him warm while he listened to his friend Ken, sitting beside him talking about his four-year-old daughter’s recent T-ball game.
“—so she hits the ball off the tee,” he said, “and throws her bat as hard as she can behind her at the backstop—which, thank fuck they don’t have catchers—and starts runnin’ as fast as her little legs can go, only to stop halfway to first base to pick up the ball and chuck it with all her might out of bounds.”
Javier chuckled and sipped his drink—he couldn’t wait to tell these kinds of stories about his own children.
“Clever kid,” Benito replied, sitting on his other side. “How pissed off was Emily when she didn’t get to stay on first base?”
“You know Em, Benny. That little girl is more fiery than the hair on her head.” Her father had dark blonde hair, and she had bright red, yet both shared ocean-blue eyes.
A few months back, Javier felt like he was finally in a place where he could reconnect with his old friends. He’d gone out for drinks with Benito and Ken a few times to catch up, and they’d shown him pictures of their families; Ken had three daughters, and Emily was his youngest and the only one with red hair. He’d even introduced his wif-fiancée to them and took her to have dinner with them and their wives—it was nice.
He tried to reach out to Sal, but the other man was a part of the Special Forces in the army and had spent more time deployed than at home since Desert Storm—Benito and Ken said he was okay, or as okay as a guy can be after spending so many years in active duty. It made Javier feel like a real asshole for avoiding them for so long when they’d just wanted to be there for him like they were for Sal, who’d been through more dangerous and worse shit than him.
By no means were he and his old friends back to having the tight bond they shared when they were twenty-two or had anything close to his relationship with Steve—they’d grown too far apart and were virtually strangers now. That didn’t mean it wasn’t great to hang out with people who knew him before Lorraine and hadn’t taken her side or were judgemental of the choices he made.
“Big tantrum?” Benito asked.
“A complete meltdown. You’re gonna love havin’ kids, Jav.” Ken patted him on the shoulder.
“They have their moments,” Benito added, “pero, dios mio, mi vida no sería la misma sin ellos (but, my god, my life wouldn’t be the same without them). I love my little terrors.” He had five children; his littlest wasn’t even a year old.
“Yeah,” Javier said fondly. “I’m really fucking excited to have kids and get married.”
The other two men were smiling.
“And that’s how it always should’ve been,” Ken replied. “That’s how we know you’re marryin’ the right girl this time. It’s great to see how happy you are—and Benny and I can tell you’re actually happy.”
“Yeah,” Benito said, “‘Cause you’re smiling this time around and not crying—that stripper, though, what was her name? Diamond? Ruby? Shit, what was it?”
“Jade, maybe?” Ken answered. “You should remember, Benny, you’re the one she took home.”
“I can remember her amazing tits and ass, but couldn’t tell you what the hell she looked like or her name.”
Javier couldn’t remember what she looked like or her name either, which made him frown.
“Do you guys have that one woman you can remember every fucking detail about the first time you hooked up?” Benito asked. “She haunts you—I’m talking her face is burned in your brain, and you can remember everything like what she smelled like or how soft her skin was?”
“Yeah,” Ken said. “That girl, my third year in college.” He raised his beer bottle.
“The one who deepthroated you for the first time? You wouldn’t shut up about her.”
“That’s the one—too bad she wasn’t lookin’ for anythin’ serious. Best sex I’ve ever had; don’t tell my wife that.” Ken and Benito chuckled.
“Mine was Carmen’s roommate.” Carmen was Benito’s wife and someone they went to school with. “We had a casual thing before I started dating Carmen—her name was Valentina, and mi mamá would not have liked her, which was fine; she wasn’t wife material anyway.”
What did he mean by that?
“What about you, Javi?” Ken asked.
“I’m marrying mine,” he answered and took a drink of his beer.
Benito scoffed. “Are you just saying that shit, or do you mean it?”
He met the other man’s eyes.
“I’m being completely serious. She’s it, and I’m marrying her.”
Benito blew out air, shaking his head. “You lucky pendejo (asshole).”
“Now you gotta tell us what she’s like,” Ken said, and this conversation just took a turn in a direction he did not want to go in—even when he was younger, he didn’t like to brag about what went on in the bedroom.
Javier had never been happier for his cell phone to ring, but the feeling only lasted a moment as he pulled it off his belt before panic slammed into him that something was wrong because it was Cielito calling him. She was out having her bachelorette party with her girlfriends at the town bar.
“I gotta take this,” he said, setting his beer on the ground and groaning as he got up from his chair. He briskly walked out of earshot of everyone else.
His heart was pounding a mile a minute. He hit the accept button and answered when the Nokia phone was at his ear, “Hello?”
“Ohhh myyy god,” his wif-fiancée slurred on the other end. “How do you make ans’ring the phone sooo sexy?”
He let out a breath that she didn’t sound like she was in trouble.
“I don’t know—are you okay, baby?”
"Nooo, I miss you, and I wan’ you and I need you to come ge’ me—can you pleeease come ge’ me? I don' wanna be out anymore—I wanna be at home with you and naked in our bed; wait, have I told you how amazing you fuck? If there-was like an Olympics for fucking, you'd ge’ all the gold medals tha’s how good you are.” She inhaled before she continued speaking. “And your face, god, I miss your stupidly han’some face with your big baby cow eyes tha’ Daphne and Velma totally inherited from you, and tha’ gorgeous nose, and your lips—everything on tha’ mug of yours is perfec,’ and I canno’ believe you’re marrying me. Me?! How the fuck did I ge’ so lucky?! Like, you’re too pretty for me, and usu’lly, the pretty boys jus’ wan’ my family’s money—like fucking Daniel,” she fumed. “But you jus’ like me for me, and I’m sooo in love with you tha’ I canno’ stand bein’ so far away from you righ’ now. Javiii, can you pleeease come pick me up?"
Oh, she was drunk and missed him.
With how sloshed she sounded, it had him worried she hadn’t eaten much food or had enough water, and he wanted to go to her right that second to get her home and sober her up so she wasn’t too miserable the next day. He was trying to ignore what she said about her ex, but the more he learned about the guy, the higher the chances rose that he’d kick the fucker’s ass if they ever met.
"Are you sure you want to leave early?" he asked.
"Yesss, pleeease. I wanna go home wit’ you."
"Are you somewhere safe, cariño (sweetheart)?" It didn’t sound like she was inside the bar.
“I’m ou’side the backdoor where people smoke—Stacy and Arleta from the grocery store are ou’ here wit’ meee. Say hi to Javi!”
He could tell she held the phone toward them.
“Hi, Javi,” he heard the two women say. “Are you coming to ge’ me?” Cielito asked.
“Yes, mi amor. I just need to tell everyone bye—don’t hang up.”
He didn't as he quickly walked over to say goodbye and thank his dad, friends, and family for the lovely night, telling them his fiancée wasn't feeling good and he needed to go pick her up—the plan had always been he’d be her designated driver since he hadn’t wanted to drink too much; the rest of the people at her party had their own rides.
His long legs had him striding toward where his pickup was parked.
“Did you have a good time?” he asked her.
His truck door squealed as he opened it and got inside.
“Yesss! There was karaoke and I had a lot of tequila. Like a lot. Like sooo much, I sang “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic withou’ anyone daring me to—tha’ movie is sooo fucking sad. If we were in the freezing water and you pu’ me on a door or whatever piece of wood, you beh your ass I’m gonna figure ou’ a way to ge’ you on it with me. I’m not gonna be a fucking liar and say I won’ leggo and fucking leggo! You’re gonna be like nex’ to me, or hell, you could ge’ on top of me, and we’d survive—I’d make sure we both survived.”
She made him smile because this wasn’t the first time she’d gone on this rant.
He was already on the road heading toward town.
“I’d make sure we survived, too, baby. I’d use my body heat to keep you warm.”
“Why is tha’ sooo romantic? Honestly, I think you’d figure ou’ a way to ge’ us into one of the lifeboats.”
“Probably.” He shrugged.
“And then we’d ge’ to Amer’ca and start our new life together and have sooo many babies.”
He was still smiling. “Yeah—so many babies?”
“It was ye olden times when the only thing women could do was take care of their husbands and babies, plus there was basic’ly no birth control and you only cream pie, sooo yeah, we’d hav’ a ridic’lous amoun’ of babies.”
“I wanna have a ridiculous amount of babies with you now.”
“God, I know you do, and I wanna have all your babies, all of them, ‘cause you’re gonna be the bes’ dad. Like, the bes’, and our kids will be sooo lucky to have you, and they’re gonna love you sooo much and be so cute—I hope they look like you—you were sush a cutie, and I’d love to have a bunch of mini yous.”
“I want them to look like the both of us.”
“Meh, you’re cuter.”
“Stop that, you’re fucking adorable, and I’d love if our kids looked like you.”
“Fine.”
“Why’d you drink so much tequila, mi amor? That stuff makes us—”
“Horny?” she finished for him. “Our clothes magic’ly disappear.” Her speech was still slurring. “Robyn got us Tequila Sunrises, then Cat—” That was the wife of one of her coworkers at the hospital; they hung out with the couple occasionally. “—got us another round of them, bu’ Alma—” His prima (cousin) and sister of Sebastián. “—got us all tequila shots, and I also got us tequila shots, and I think there was another round—too much tequila, whish is why I called you to pick me up.”
His mouth turned down in a frown.
“Please tell me you had some food, too, and water.”
“Yesss, I knew you’d worry, so I ate a plate of fries and shared mozz-mozzarella.” She giggled. “Tha’s a fun word to say—I shared mozzarella sticks with the girls, and I drank water—had a glass aft’r ev’ry drink ‘cause I was-like, ‘If my Javi were here righ’ now, he’d wan’ me staying hydrated,’ and I couldn’ le’ you down.”
He smiled. “Thank you, baby. I’m proud of you.”
There was someone in the background who sounded just as drunk as her, asking her, “Wha’ are you doin’ out here?” It was Robyn.
“Calling Javi,” Cielito answered.
“Come back inside. You said you were goin’ pee.”
“I wen’ and Javi’s comin’ to pick me up. I’m waitin’ for him to ge’ here.”
“Girl, it’s barely pas’ midnigh’, and your bachelorette party! Leave the man alone and have fun with us! We’ll get pie after here at the diner.” It was open twenty-four hours.
“I need him,” she whined.
“Oh my god, you’re ditchin’ us for dick!”
“It’s really good dick, and I need it!”
“Mi amor?” Javi said to get her attention.
“Yes?” she answered.
“I’m not gonna fool around with you while you’re fucked up…”
“I know,” she whispered. “Don’ tell anyone, bu’ I’m too drunk, and I hate it. I wanna go home.”
“Okay, cariño (sweetheart). I’ll be there soon to pick you up.”
Another voice was heard on her end. “Why are you guys ou’ here?” He was pretty sure it was his prima, Alma.
“She’s ditchin’ us for dick!” Robyn exclaimed.
“I told you it’s really good dick!” Cielito said just as loud.
“Gross!” Alma was slurring her words, too, and sounded disgusted. “You’re gonna-make-me puke!”
“Sorry, Alma,” the other two women replied in unison.
“It’s okay,” Alma said. “You’re leaving already? I don’ wan’ you to go. We’re having so mush fun!”
“Yeah, don’ go!” He thought that was Cat. “This is the only night I can go ou’ alone this month! Le’s keep partying!”
“I’m sorry, guys,” Cielito responded. “Tequila was a mistake, and I need to go home.”
Javier figured she’d forgotten he was on the phone with her.
“I’m horny, too,” Robyn said, “bu’ you don’ see me booty callin’ my boyfriend to ge’ me, and he’s got really good dick, too!”
“¡Guácala (Gross)!” Alma interjected. “No sé por qué salgo contigo (I don’t know why I hang out with you).”
“Because we’re fun!” Robyn said. “Don’ lie, you loved it when I got our bride-to-be to rap “Shoop” with me.” Javier only knew that Salt-N-Pepa song because he’d heard his bride-to-be rap it on many occasions—she was really good, to be honest.
“You are fun, bu’ who wan’s to hear about their brother and cousin’s sex lives?”
“Sorry, Alma,” Robyn and Cielito said again.
“You all can still have fun withou’ me!” his wif-fiancée told them.
“A bachelorette party withou’ a bachelorette?” Robyn asked.
“I think that jus’ makes it a girls' night out—yeah, you can have a girls' night out! Fuck, where’s Javi? Did I tell you guys he’s comin’ to ge’ me? Wait, my phone! Javi, are you still there?”
“Yes, baby, I’m still here.”
“Where are you?”
“Maybe ten minutes away.”
“Ugh, okay.” She whispered the next bit loudly, “Robyn’s mad at me.”
“Damn straigh,’ I’m mad at you!” Robyn said. “It’s your bachelorette party, and you’re abandonin’ us for a man!”
“But he’s like a really grea’ man, and wonderful, and han’some, and the bes’, and I love him so, so, so, sooo, mush and wanna have his babies. So, I’m not abandonin’ you for ‘a man,’ I’m abandonin’ you for the greates’ man alive, and you can’ be mad at me for tha’.”
What she said had Javier grinning.
“Y’all are too disgustingly in love, but wha’ever, nex’ girls' night, no fuckin’ tequila.”
She forgot he was on the phone with her again and listened to their drunken discussion about what they should do for a girls' night, going off topic a few times. Her friends stayed with her until he arrived.
He pulled into the parking lot and stopped at the back of the building where he saw the group of women and some other bar patrons hanging out by the door, the area lit by two lights on the building.
“Cielito?” he said, hoping it’d get her attention. “Are you still there?”
“Oh my god, Javi!” Came her exclamation. “Where are you?!”
The truck was put into park, and he kept it idling as he got out.
“To your left.”
Her head turned to the right, making him snort with a smile on his lips.
“Your other left, mi amor,” he said. He’d walked around to open the passenger door, and her gaze finally landed on him under the orangeish glow of a towering street light.
“He’s here!” she squealed, and he ended the call, putting his phone back on his belt. He watched her shove her own in her purse before she hugged all of her friends goodbye.
Javier had seen the dress she was going to wear tonight; he just hadn’t seen her wearing it. When she turned his way and he got a good look at her, his mouth fell open, and he thought his heart would beat out of his chest like a cartoon character in love.
The champagne-colored mini dress was long-sleeved and covered in sequins, the neckline plunging to accentuate her breasts, the skirt ending just a little above her knees, a white sash across her chest reading in fancy black script, ‘Bride-to-Be,’ and she looked fucking stunning.
His awe ended when he suddenly had to act fast and catch the woman he loved who flung herself into his arms—he grunted at her body slamming into him, her lips crashing into his, wrapping his arms around her back to feel her skin from the deep V down her back.
The smell of booze hit him almost as hard as she did, along with the undertones of her perfume, Javier tensing when she grabbed his ass. With how she was hitching her leg up on his waist, he thought she was trying to climb him like a goddamn tree.
“Mmm… hi, baby,” his muffled voice said.
His hand went to her face, his thumb under her chin, and fingers splayed along her cheek as he gently pushed to separate her mouth from his. Her eyelids were closed, and her lips pursed.
“Hi, baby,” he said again. “Did you miss me?”
She smiled. “Yesss.” Her glassy, bloodshot eyes blinked open, and it was obvious she was utterly blitzed; there was no way in hell she could pass a field sobriety test. “God, you’re sooo gorgeous—look at your cute nose—” She poked the tip of it. “—boop. Your eyes are sooo pretty, and you smell sooo good—you always smell so fucking good. I love you so, sooo much.” She pecked him on the lips. “I’m sooo happy you’re here.”
She looked so cute and it had him smiling.
“Yeah?” He shrugged off his jacket and put it over her shoulders.
“Mmm, tha’s nice and warm. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Cielito. You ready to go?”
“Oh my god, yesss!”
“Okay, let’s get you into the truck, hermosa (beautiful).”
He helped her get up into the cab, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, he was in the driver’s seat, with her pressed right against him.
“I’m sooo happy we’re going home,” she said, hugging his arm closest to her.
“I’m happy we’re going home, too, Cielito—let’s get you buckled.”
He leaned over her to grab the seatbelt, getting it over her lap and buckling it in, ensuring it wasn’t loose, before getting his own belt on.
The short drive to their apartment had her in his space, kissing his cheek and neck while telling him how much she loved him, and it was so sweet that warmth spread through his body.
When they arrived, Javier had to keep her steady as they walked with an arm around her waist, making her lean into him. Once inside, he propped her against the front door to remove his coat from her shoulders and her sash, hanging them with the other jackets on the wall. Then, he pulled her purse from her arm, putting it on the console table, and he helped her remove the flats on her feet, kicking off his shoes afterward.
Her eyes were closed most of the time while she mumbled, a lot of it he didn’t understand, but what he did make out was her confessing her love for him and waxing poetic about how attractive she found him—it was adorable.
He wanted to get her sober, so he helped steady her as they made their way to the kitchen, moving past the counters and appliances to the small connected dining room and having her sit in a kitchen chair, pushing her close to the table in order to keep her from falling onto the floor.
Javier’s palm rubbed circles into her back. “Cielito?”
Her head tilted up in his direction, looking at him with red, glossy eyes and a big, dreamy smile.
“You’re pretty.” Her speech wasn’t slurring as much. “And you’re marrying me. I can’t believe you’re marrying me. We should blow this popsicle stand and go back to our place to have premarital sex—gotta do as much of that as we can before we’re married and our sexy times become legal.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean by the sex becoming legal?” he asked.
“You know, sex is only legal to God when the couple is married—we won’t be living in sin anymore; gosh, that’s gonna make your dad sooo happy. I love your dad. He’s the fucking best. Let's make him your mom’s flan next weekend ‘cause that dude deserves it—man, I’m hungry.”
“We’ll make him flan, baby.” His hand cupped her cheek. “Can I make you some buttered toast?” That seemed like a safe choice and shouldn’t make her sick.
Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, toast sounds fucking amazing!”
He smiled. “Okay, mi amor. I’ll make you some.”
Javier bent to kiss the top of her head before padding into the kitchen.
Making her two slices of toast and having her eat them, along with drinking a large glass of water, didn’t take too long—there were a few times he had to remind her about the bread because she was so chatty; at one point she went on an entertaining tangent about how those mythical half horse, half human creatures, centaurs, would wear pants, and even made him tear off a page from the notepad on the fridge, so she could draw him visuals on why the correct answer was the pants would go on the back part of their horse body.
Jesus Christ, he was so fucking in love with her.
He felt better after she finished her snack and drink with how her speech sounded clearer and that she didn’t seem as fucked up as when she called him from the bar—she was definitely still a little drunk since she couldn’t walk without stumbling, and her eyes were having a hard time staying open.
His next priority was making her comfortable. He led her to the bedroom, where he carefully replaced her dress and bra with his olive green t-shirt, leaving her in the shirt and her cute cotton panties she already had on that were covered in red hearts.
He took her to the bathroom, where he sat her up on the countertop and stood between her legs to keep her in place.
“Cielito,” he said, grabbing a wet wipe, “I’m gonna clean off your makeup, okay?”
There was a big smile on her face, her eyelids shut. “Mmmkay, you’re sooo nice.”
He pressed it to her face to begin removing her makeup. When that was done, he used a warm washcloth to dampen the skin he’d cleaned and grabbed her face wash off the counter, which was amongst her other skincare products. He used his fingertips to apply it to her skin, starting with her cheeks, then down her jaw to her chin, and back up to spread it along her nose before doing her forehead last.
He used the wet cloth to wipe away the cleanser when she spoke.
“Did you just wash my face?” she asked.
“Yeah?” He’d finished, and her skin was finally completely clean and looking dewy. Her face wash was put away, and his eyes squinted as he read the labels of the other products until he found what he needed and picked it up. He’d seen her do her skincare routine more times than he could count and had the basics down; the serums and special creams intimidated him, though.
His fingers were massaging the moisturizer into her skin along the same path they’d taken with the cleanser.
“Is that moisturizer?”
“Yes.”
Her breath stuttered, her mouth turning into a frown, and he matched her look.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, leaning toward the sink when he was done to wash his hands. He then dried them with the towel on his other side hanging on the wall.
Her bottom lip was trembling, and it worried him.
“You love me,” she whispered.
“I do,” he said and kissed her forehead. “I love you so fucking much.” His hands rubbed over her bare thighs.
She opened her eyes, and they were welling up, glistening under the lights above.
“You love me,” she repeated.
He held her cheeks. “Yes, sweetheart, I love you—I love you more than anything.”
Her voice was so small. “Why doesn’t my family love me?” With tears rolling down her face, her question shattered his heart into a million pieces.
“Oh, Cielito, baby.” His tone was soft, and he wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her tight, her face going into the crook of his neck. “They’re assholes and they don’t deserve you.”
Her body started shaking with sobs, and it had his chest squeezing tight, his eyes getting watery, wishing with every cell of his being to make her feel better.
She was the strongest and bravest woman he knew, who didn’t like to show any sign of weakness, and ever since her parents’ unexpected and unwanted visit earlier in the week, she had acted like she was fine in an attempt to hide her sadness.
The day after he was offered a large sum of money to leave her, they’d gone over to his father’s to use the fax machine in his office—the office was in its own little building across the driveway from his house—and she faxed Jerry, her parents’ lawyer, a typed letter that conveyed her disappointment in how they acted and also told them to never contact her again which she signed at the bottom. She changed her home and cell phone numbers and discussed with him possibly moving to the ranch earlier than they originally planned.
He’d tried to talk to her about everything, but she’d put on this smile he knew wasn’t genuine by the lack of its usual luster, and she was unable to keep the sorrow from showing in her eyes—it killed him how her usual happy glow had dimmed from her hurt. She’d reassure him she was okay, reminding him that her family made their choice and had to live with the consequences of it, but she also had to live with the consequences of their actions and deal with the emotions of never seeing or speaking to her loved ones again. He was expecting the façade to break at some point, and it took inebriation to cause her carefully crafted walls to finally crumble.
To add salt to their wounds, Javier was served at work the following day after the fax was sent, with a lawsuit for breach of contract from her mom and dad.
What were they trying to sue him for? Going against his word to not tell their daughter about their visit and proposition, thus breaching a verbal contract that was made. He’d laughed as he called Chucho’s attorney because they never fucking agreed with his terms and, instead, had countered with the damn prenup. They didn’t have a fucking case, and it was dropped by the next day.
Javier was so unbelievably pissed off at these people for what they’d done to the woman he loved that he knew there was no way in hell he’d ever be able to have a civil conversation with them again. It was possible it’d turn into a physical altercation, and he’d end up in jail, which he honestly thought would be worth it if he got the chance to punch her dad in his stupid fucking face.
“They’re my family,” she choked out, “they’re supposed to love me—why don’t they love me? Why am I so unlovable?”
“Mi amor, you’re not unlovable—I love you, Pop loves you, my tías (aunts), tíos (uncles), and primos (cousins) love you, Robyn loves you, mi mamá loves you—you’re loved. We love you, baby. Those people you’re related to are shitty and so blinded by their obsession with money and how they’re perceived that they wouldn’t know what unconditional love was if it bit them in the ass. They’re horrible fucking people, and you don’t need them, Cielito. You don’t.”
“But they’re my family!” she cried. Her tears were soaking through his shirt. “It doesn’t feel right that they aren’t going to be at our wedding, and it hurts so fucking much that they don’t support us!”
He kissed her hair, rubbing circles on her back with his palm. “I know, cariño (sweetheart). I know you’re hurt and that it’s fucked they won’t be there.” It was hard for him to swallow around the lump that’d formed, his eyes burning, and he squeezed them shut. “I’m sorry you fell in love with me and that I’m not good enough for them or good enough for you. I’m sorry for causing all this shit and the pain you’re feeling. I’m sorry, baby—it’s all my fault,” his voice cracked on the last word. He had to clear his throat. “But I’d do it all again because you deserve to be loved—you deserve all the fucking love in the world. Your family is supposed to love you because they’re your family, and our kids will love you no matter what because you’re their amazing mom, but me? I’m choosing to love you with every fucking thing I have because you’re incredible and so lovable.” His cheeks were wet from his own tears. “I love you, Cielito—I promise I’ll love you enough to make up for them. I promise I’ll love you so much you’ll get sick of me. I love you, Cielito. You’re my everything, and I hope my love’s enough…”
She sniffled loudly, her head rising, and he opened his eyes to meet her reddened ones, her face streaked with wetness.
Her voice was hoarse. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her hands in the small space between their bodies, clutching his button-up shirt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, and you’re enough—you’ve always been enough. It just hurts how hateful the people who are supposed to want me to be happy are toward what makes me happy.” More tears fell down her cheeks. “You’re what makes me happy, and they don’t accept you.” Her lower lip was wobbling. “I’m mad and sad, and I don’t want them to be a part of our lives, but it feels… it feels like they’ve died,” she said quietly. “It feels weird grieving over people who are still breathing, who are just a phone call or a plane ride away. I’m grieving them like they’re dead—are they dead to me? Why am I grieving what little relationship we had, yet also grieving the relationship we could’ve had? One where they welcomed you with open arms, and even if it wasn’t your favorite thing to do, we visited them once a year—you’d joke around with my brother, we’d fawn over his many children, and my parents would actually be impressed with what you did in Colombia and brag to their friends about their son-in-law who helped take down Pablo fucking Escobar and did take out the Cali cartel. Why am I so fucking sad about living people and a fantasy?”
He stroked his fingers along her cheek to cup it. “I don’t remember much from my mother’s funeral ‘cause my head was pretty fucked up, but there was something the Priest said that stuck with me. ‘Grief is just all the love you had for someone that suddenly has nowhere to go.’ So, it collects inside you, makes your chest ache, and leaks from your eyes—it fills all the places that were left empty by their loss. I’ll always feel my mom here—” He put a hand over his heart. “—but over time, a lot of my grief slowly disappeared, and you’ve made it easier to live with what’s left.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t think what you’re feeling is weird. They might be alive, but you lost the only family you’ve ever known and are grieving the death of your relationship with them—now there’s all that love you still have for them that has no place to go, so it’s filling the emptiness they left behind, and it’s gonna take some time to heal.” He held her face in both of his hands. “It’s okay that you're sad, Cielito, but you don’t need to hide it from me or pretend that you’re okay because I know you’re not, and I don’t want you going through this alone. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on; I’ll hold you or talk things out with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help ease your pain. Just please don’t shut me out.”
She was frowning, her eyes darting away as she spoke softly, “I knew if you saw I was upset, it’d make you sad, and I didn’t wanna make you sad so close to our wedding—this should be a happy time for us, but all I wanna do is lay in the dark and cry.”
“Baby?” His finger went under her chin to make her look at him, their gazes meeting. “Don’t worry about my feelings, and let me be there for you—I’d rather be sad with you than have you suffer alone in silence. Now, let me get you to bed so I can hold you while you cry.”
Her smile was small, and her eyes were glossy with tears. “I’d like that.” Suddenly, she looked panicked, her hand going to her mouth. “Move,” said her muffled voice. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Shit.” He immediately helped her off the counter, for her to stumble the handful of steps and drop to her knees in front of the toilet, where she did, in fact, get sick.
It took a lot to gross out Javier—he grew up on a ranch, where he witnessed animal births and deaths regularly. Combine that with the horrible things he’d seen in Colombia, someone throwing up was a welcome change.
“Oh, mi probecita (my poor thing),” he said, spinning around to the wall opposite the bathroom vanity to get a small rag from the linen closet before moving back to the sink to wet it with cold water. “Déjame cuidarte, Cielito (Let me take care of you, Cielito). Sé que no te gusta enfermarte (I know you don’t like getting sick).”
She’d told him that when she had a little too much fun at a party playing drinking games with his primos (cousins) and found herself on his old bathroom floor, hugging porcelain with Javier there for support—they’d ended up being too drunk to drive home and spent the night in his childhood bed.
He wrung out the washcloth and walked over to her, a grunt leaving him and knees popping as he lowered himself to kneel next to her. He pressed the cloth to the back of her neck with one hand while the other rubbed comforting circles over her spine.
His tone was warm and gentle. “Get it all out, baby. I know it’s awful, and you hate it, but it’ll make you feel better.”
It didn’t take long for her stomach to empty and her heaving to stop. Her breaths were coming out ragged, and Javier took care of flushing the toilet. He scooted back and pulled her with him, the tiled floor cool underneath them, until he had room to stretch out his legs in front of him while she sat between them with her spine to his chest, her eyes closed.
He held the wet cloth to her forehead, the fingers of his free hand laced with hers, and kissed her hair.
“How are you feeling?” he whispered.
“I’m never drinking again,” she mumbled.
He huffed amusedly and smiled, placing a kiss behind her ear.
“Liar,” he said. “You said that last time you drank too much.”
“I mean it this time.”
“Uh-huh, right.”
“I do—this is embarrassing.”
“I think it’s good practice.”
He knew the look on her face was one of confusion without seeing it. “Practice for what?”
“If you get morning sickness.” He kissed the side of her neck.
“Oh, god,” she whined. “Why can’t we be seahorses?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Seahorses?”
“Yeah, male seahorses do the whole pregnancy and birth thing—that’s the fucking dream.”
He thought about it for a second, taking into account how badly he wanted kids, and it was really fucking weird to say this out loud, “If I could… I’d, uh, do that for us…”
He could hear her smiling. “You’d have my babies?”
Javier inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “...yes.”
“I know the scenario is weirding you out, and it’s sweet of you to say you would, but I’m not sure if, given the opportunity, you’d actually do it—which is fine. Pregnancy and childbirth are scary, and it just proves that mothers are more badass than fathers.”
“You’re definitely more badass than me.”
“I appreciate you saying that, man who literally hunted bad guys for a living and had a bounty on his head.”
“You are, and since you’re taking the brunt of everything for us to have a kid, I promise I’ll do whatever possible, so all you’ll have to worry about is growing our baby and working.” She’d made it clear that when she got pregnant, she was still going to work until either the baby was born or the Doctor told her to stop.
“You know, I think we’re gonna crush being married and becoming parents.”
He smiled. “We are because we’re equals, even if you’re more badass than me.”
“We are equals, and thank you for acknowledging my badassery, man who helped eliminate two of the biggest cartels in the world.”
He snorted. “Smartass. How are you feeling?”
“A little drunk, sad, and I’ve got the spins.”
“Do you still feel sick?”
“Not really—just dizzy.”
“Do you want me to help you brush your teeth and then get you comfortable in bed?”
“That actually sounds wonderful because my mouth feels icky, and I’d like to cuddle.”
“Okay, mi amor.”
He started to move, but she stopped him with her hand on his arm as she said, “Javi?”
“Yes, Cielito?”
“You’re worth it.”
“Worth what…?”
“The pain and sadness over my family. You bring me so much love and happiness that I know it’ll outshine the hurt in no time, and this low I’m in is only temporary. You’re worth it and more than enough—your love is all I need. I love you.”
His throat was feeling tight, and he spoke softly. “I love you, too.” His arms went around her middle, and he didn’t squeeze as he hugged her to not hurt her stomach. He still wanted to hold her, his chin resting on her shoulder and their heads touching. “I’m happy I’m worth it to you, and just know that I’m yours; I’m here for you—good, bad, it doesn’t fucking matter because I’m not going anywhere, and we’ll get through anything together.” His lips pressed to her hair. “I tell you I love you a lot, but I hope you understand that I love you more than words can accurately describe—I love you, Cielito. I love you, and I promise I’ll be yours forever.”
Her hand came up behind her to press her fingers into his hair. “Yeah, we’re gonna crush being husband and wife.”
She made him smile. “Less than seventy-two hours, Mrs. Peña.”
“And I can’t fucking wait, Mr. Peña.”
The town of Laredo was buzzing with the news Javier Peña was getting married—yes, the same Javier Peña who left his first bride at the altar, had tumbled in the hay with many of the girls he’d gone to school with, and was apparently some kind of lothario in South America.
It really bothered you how fucking interested and judgmental the townspeople were of his sex life.
Your wedding with him was all anyone could talk about, and the bar was even taking bets on whether or not he’d disappear again, which was fucked up, but Chucho gladly put five hundred dollars on his son marrying you because he knew it was easy money. There was so much interest in how things would turn out that people you either barely knew or had never met approached you both like they were old friends of Javi’s to try and get invites—they were politely rejected with the excuse there wasn’t enough room.
According to Robyn, your wedding had the same amount of hype as your fiancé’s first, and though Javi hated that, you really hoped it annoyed the fuck out of his ex.
When you discussed how you wanted to tie the knot, your husband-to-be agreed the ceremony should be attended by a select few, and afterward, there’d be a big party to celebrate with the rest of your friends and family. Once the date was decided, the planning started immediately since there was so little time.
Chucho and his sisters would make a killing as wedding planners. They sat you and Javi down to get an idea of what you wanted the party to be like, a color scheme, and a budget, then told you guys not to worry and that they’d take care of everything. All the two of you had to do was approve things, hand over cash, and get your rings, which wasn’t too much of a hassle since you wanted simple matching gold bands.
Something you loved about the family you were marrying into was how they were all there for each other and so tight-knit—your fiancé's dad and tías managed to get all that was needed in less than a month with the help of his primos, and by calling in favors from their friends.
Javier and you didn't want anything extravagant. The party would occur in Chucho's backyard, under a giant white pole tent. Tables, chairs, and a dance floor had to be rented, and it was highway robbery how much the local place wanted to charge—Lorraine’s family frequently used them for their events, and you wouldn’t put it past her father to be the cause of such an exorbitant price just to spite Javi for wasting the absurd amount of money he spent on Lorraine’s first wedding. Luckily, on such short notice, tía Lupita’s oldest son, Matías, had a friend who knew a guy an hour away in Zapata who ran a party rental store and could get them everything at a reasonable price.
The tías, along with their daughters/daughters in law were handling food; Anna, who was friends with Javi in high school, had a bakery and was taking care of making the cake and Mexican wedding cookies that were tiny, buttery, ball-shaped, melt-in-your-mouth, powdered sugar-covered cookies, dotted with crushed nuts like pecans, walnuts, and almonds, and traditionally served at weddings and Christmas; tío Ángel and tía María’s husband were in charge of getting alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, and Ángel’s youngest son Diego was going to DJ, as it was his side hustle and he’d been paid to do gigs at other parties in town and in a couple of big city clubs.
An hour and a half before you were to be wed, practically every family member of Javi's who lived locally was at the ranch. Many had been there all day setting up the backyard or in the kitchen making food, and every time you tried to help cook, you were shooed away, but your presence was wanted outside to instruct those putting things together on how to arrange and decorate everything inside and out of the tent, and that ended up being what you did until it was time to start getting ready.
Most of Javier’s family and you were there, yet your groom was nowhere to be found and hadn’t set foot on the property in a good sixteen hours.
In that time, you hadn’t seen or talked to him either, and your last interaction was the previous night when he dropped you off at his dad’s—that’s where you spent the night, and thank goodness, Chucho had already gone to sleep when Javi helped you get settled in his old room, because he had a hard time leaving and it led to him fucking you slow and passionately in his ridiculously squeaky bed one last time.
Why were you staying at the ranch? The two of you, encouraged by Javi’s dad, made the decision not to see each other on the day of your nuptials. Since your almost father-in-law would be driving you to where the ceremony was taking place, it made sense for you to sleepover and get ready at his house—the moment Javi left you there in his room that smelled like him, under his sheets that smelled like him, in one of his white t-shirts that smelled like him, you realized it was going to be really difficult and a test of your strength to be away from him for so long, and you both knew, if you spoke even a single word over the phone, the resolve between you would shatter, and he’d be back at Chucho’s for you in record time.
That led to the lack of communication and him getting ready alone at your shared apartment.
You were sitting in a kitchen chair you’d brought into Javi’s old bathroom, wearing a white satin robe cinched tight over your clean body, fresh from the shower and the special undergarments you'd chosen for the big day. Robyn was in front of you in her matching black robe as she did your makeup, something she offered to do and you happily accepted due to how good she was at it. She'd already smoothed out your complexion and hid any imperfections; currently, she was working on your eye shadow.
"Between you and Javi," she said, her attention focused on what she was doing, "your kids are gonna have some pretty eyes."
You smiled. "I think his eyes are prettier, and just imagine tiny versions of them; they'll give me the sad puppy dog eyes, and I'll have no choice but to give them whatever they want."
She giggled. "Your babies will be spoiled."
"I have already accepted that fact—hopefully, they'll take after their dad and be spoiled, but sweet, caring, and well-behaved, and not some little assholes." You frowned. "My brother was a spoiled asshole."
She paused what she was doing to meet your eyes. "Hey, now, we agreed not to think or speak about those people today. We aren't lettin' them sour the best day of your life so far."
"I know," you sighed.
It was the right choice to sever your ties with your family, and you had no regrets; that didn't mean it wasn't hard or hurt any less. Especially today, with it being your wedding day—your mom wasn’t there to help you get ready, nor your dad for a father-daughter dance. They should’ve been there supporting you on the happiest day of your life. Instead, they destroyed whatever relationship you had with them, and it hurt a lot. Even suspecting for years that they had no love for you didn't ease much of the pain of discovering it was true. You felt stupid for caring about these people when they cared so little for you, and you weren't sure why you hadn't cut them out sooner. Was it naively thinking they'd change? Or the ingrained notion that even if you didn't like them, you had to suck it up because they were your family?
It didn't matter now because what they'd done and how they treated the man you loved was unforgivable. There was no chance in hell you’d ever trust them again, and you didn’t want the new life you were starting with Javi to be tainted by their toxicity.
Robyn's cell phone was sitting on the bathroom counter next to your open makeup bag, and it started ringing—nobody wanted to bother you while you got ready, so Robyn was made the point of contact to either deal with what was going on or talk it out with you.
She straightened and turned around to pick it up.
"Why's he callin’?" she mumbled, hitting the accept button and putting the phone to her ear. "What's shakin' bacon? Robyn speakin,’" she answered. "...yes," she told them, "I'm doin' her makeup right now... No... No, you can't... Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? No one is supposed to see her before the wedding... You're a fuckin' liar, and Chucho wouldn’t let you in here anyway... You're ridiculous," she said in exasperation. "But if you swear, on your mama's grave, you won't peek, then I'll allow it... Okay, fine. Give us a sec, then quietly knock—I don't want anyone knowin' you’re here... bye."
She set the phone down and the eyeshadow palette, spinning on her heel to face you and grab your hand.
"Was that who I think it was?" you asked.
She was smiling. "If you’re thinkin’ someone annoyin’ who could get me in more trouble than an armadillo on the highway with your father-in-law, yes—come with me."
Robyn tugged you up to stand and led you into the bedroom, where you both came to a stop.
There were two large windows on the opposite wall beside each side of the bed, sitting half a foot above the floor with closed blinds and red curtains over them. A soft knocking sounded on the one in front of you. You followed Robyn and watched her push apart the curtains, pulling on the string to raise the blinds. Her body blocked your view as she unlocked the window and shoved it up.
"How many fingers am I holdin' up?" she asked the person outside.
"I don't know," Javi answered. "I can't see shit with this thing on."
The sound of his voice had your heart beating faster.
"Good," Robyn said, moving out of your way to look at you.
With the window's position, you could only see your fiancé from the thighs up, wearing black tuxedo pants and a white long-sleeved dress shirt tucked into them. Your sleep mask covered his eyes, and there was a loose regular tie and bow tie around his neck that matched the color of his slacks, the ends of each resting over both sides of his chest. Aside from his perfectly trimmed mustache, his face was freshly shaved, and he looked unbelievably handsome as always.
"This annoyin' man—" Robyn pointed at him with her thumb. "—says it's an emergency—he needs you to tell him how you want his hair done and which tie you’d like."
It made you smile because his hair was already how you wanted it—you had given him a haircut a couple of days ago, so the sides looked nice and clean cut down, and he combed the longer top and bangs to swoop over to the other side of his head, holding it all in place with his favorite pomade, that kept his hair soft.
He also knew damn well which tie you’d chosen.
It had you feeling gooey that he couldn't wait any longer to see you.
You walked toward him, and Robyn made herself scarce by disappearing into the bathroom. At the window, you got down on your knees to make it easier to talk to him, Javier still standing above you with his height.
"An emergency, huh?" you asked, and he smiled. Taking his outstretched hand, you guided him closer.
“Are we alone?" he countered
His palms began mapping your body, sliding over your arms and shoulders and along your neck up to your head, where he avoided your face but carefully felt your ears and hair.
"Yep."
“You feel beautiful.”
Air huffed from your nose in amusement. “Well, you look handsome, even without being fully dressed.” You rubbed your hands up his thighs to rest them on his tiny hips. “Your hair looks perfect,” you continued. “Did you really forget which tie I wanted?”
He smirked. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was the only way I knew I could get Robyn to betray Pop’s orders and let me see you; well, talk to you.”
Your eyebrows creased. “Orders? What orders?”
“He might’ve made it sound like a suggestion, the whole us not seeing each other today, but Pop is super fucking superstitious like mi mamá was—he doesn’t think he is—believe me, he is, and it made him feel better we agreed to do it. So, he has everyone out here on strict orders to keep us apart, including Robyn. One of my tíos is sitting at the end of the kitchen table right now so he can watch the front and back door; another is on the living room couch to stay close to my room in case he’s gotta intercept me. You’re being guarded like a fucking high-security witness with a hit out on them. I had to park my truck down the road and have Seb hide me in the trunk of his Bronco to get here without anyone seeing.”
“That is insane.”
He sighed. “At least Pop kinda gave us a choice; my mom wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t have let us take any risk of getting bad luck because I saw you.”
“It’s sweet and extremely intense.”
“Yeah, and I can’t see you, so we’re good.”
You smiled. “Gotta love loopholes.”
He was smiling, too. “Yeah. I missed you so much. I just needed to touch you and talk to you.” He grabbed your hands off his waist, stroking his thumbs over the back of them. “I couldn’t sleep last night without you—even when I tried sleeping on your side.”
“Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep either, and I missed you, too. I’m happy you’re here so we can talk. I’ve got butterflies in my tummy, and I can’t tell if they’re nerves or excitement.”
“Maybe both?”
“Could be. Don’t know what I have to be nervous about.”
“I’m nervous about having to say my sappy bullshit in front of other people and have it recorded.”
“That’s actually a good point—if we leave now, we can make it to the courthouse before it closes and skip all of that.”
He huffed out a breath. “It’s too late for that, mi amor. Pop’s excited about being a part of the ceremony and getting to walk you to me.”
There wouldn’t be an aisle per se, just a small trail of rose petals leading you to where Javi would be standing in front of the tree. Chucho cried happy tears when you asked him to give you away.
When your soon-to-be father-in-law heard about your parents' impromptu visit, you’d never seen him so angry—his face had gone red, and he went off in Spanish about what terrible people they were. He was so mad he repeatedly tried to get you to give him their phone number so he could tell them himself how lowly he thought of them and that they were awful parents; he wanted them to know that their loss was his gain and you were his daughter now; you would finally be loved and cherished by a proud parent and that it was God’s will you came into his and his son’s lives. He also needed them to be aware that their pride and greed had turned them villainous, and he’d be praying that they someday realized the error of their ways and saw you for the blessing you were.
His anger toward those who wronged you was fueled by a protective father’s love for their child, and it made you incredibly emotional that after so many years without one, you had a parent who loved you unconditionally, wanted nothing more than your happiness, and would selflessly fight battles for you.
Chucho was the best dad you’d ever had, and you were happy that in less than two hours, you’d share a last name with him, too.
“Ugh, you’re right,” you said, “Pop deserves his moment. Hey, babe?”
“Yes, mi amor?”
“When you’re saying your sappy bullshit, focus on me. It'll just be the two of us in that moment, no one else, and believe me when I say all of my tears will be happy.”
His smile was brighter than the sun. He lifted your hand to kiss each of your knuckles, saying when he finished. “All of my tears will be happy, too, and you do the same thing—it’s just us, nobody else. Will you, uh, tie my bow tie?”
His question had you smiling. “I’d love to.”
He pulled off the regular tie and stuffed it into his pocket, bending his knees and crouching with a grunt to put his neck within reach. You took the ends of the bow tie, your attention focused on what you were doing.
"This is why you had me learn how to tie a bow tie, huh?" You started going through the steps—ensuring one end was longer than the other, then crossing it over the shorter end, bringing it up from under the loop and through it.
"Yes."
The bow tie had taken shape, and you were almost done.
"What was your plan if Robyn didn't let you see me?"
"I would've called you and gotten you to sneak away."
You finished tying it, and it wasn't perfect, but it didn't look too bad.
"And I would've with zero hesitation," you said, patting the bow tie. "You look so good." You leaned out to peck him on the cheek.
"Not as good as you."
You huffed out air. "Obviously, you can't see me because only half of my makeup is done—there's literally eyeshadow on only one side. I look like a mess."
Your hands were on his shoulders, and he rubbed his hands back and forth on your arms.
"A beautiful mess."
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm in love."
"I'm in love, too—madly, as a matter of fact. Oh, your dad took me out for breakfast this morning in the Mustang. He filled up the tank on our way home, and when we got back before everyone came over, he polished it, so I think it’s safe to assume you’re gonna get to drive it at some point in the next twenty-four hours—you can’t see, but I’m wagging my eyebrows.” You were.
His lips pouted, and his hands remained still. “Who drove to and from the diner?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I just wanna know.”
“But why does it matter?”
“You’re deflecting.”
“No, I’m just curious why you need to know who drove.”
His shoulders slumped. “I think I have my answer—how many times has he let you drive it now? Was that four or five?”
“Six. He let me drive with him in the passenger seat and Robyn in the back when we went wedding dress shopping.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you get weird like you are now that he lets me drive it—I can’t help that he thinks my cooking is Mustang-driving-worthy.”
“But you didn’t make him anything when you went wedding dress shopping…”
“No, but he was so touched I wanted him there to help me pick out a dress, he thought the special occasion warranted me getting to drive.”
“He didn’t let me drive the Mustang when we went to find a tux…” he grumbled.
“I’m sorry to break it to you, babe, but my wedding dress I bought and am going to save in case our future daughter wants to wear it one day is a little more special than your rented tux that has been worn many times before you by strangers. Now, stop being jealous, and get excited that you’re finally going to drive it, and unlike me, you’ll be allowed to drive it wherever the fuck you want, so there, you have one up on me.”
He seemed to be thinking long and hard about that last bit.
“That is better…”
“It sure is. Lean in and kiss me. It’ll make you less grumpy.”
“As much as I’m dying to kiss you right now, I, um, wanna wait, so it’s kinda special…”
“I respect that and understand what you mean. Javi?”
“Yes, Cielito?”
“I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married today, and I hope you like my dress.”
He smiled brightly. “I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married, too. I’m gonna love your dress.”
“I hope so.”
“Baby, you could show up in a paper bag, and I’d be blown away.”
“The bar is so low. Do you wanna feel what I’ll be wearing under the dress?”
The pink of his tongue quickly peeked between his lips, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
His timbre deepened. “Yes.”
You poked your head out the window to ensure no one was around, then loosened the belt, holding your robe shut. Taking his hand, you started at your shoulder beneath the silk, letting his fingertips graze over the bare skin, trailing them down to the lacy cup of your strapless bra. He couldn’t help himself and palmed your covered breast before you moved his hand once more to continue the journey downward, where he got to feel the smooth, stretchy material hugging your middle; you let his fingers find that the spandex covering the warmth between your thighs, too.
“Not very sexy,” you said. “Well, the bra is cute. The rest is so I don’t look lumpy in the dress or have panty lines.”
He was about to say something, but you spoke before he had a chance. “Yes, Javier, I know you love my natural body, including the bits I don’t, but I wanna look my very best, and that means Spanx.”
He was frowning. “Are they uncomfortable?”
It warmed your heart that he was concerned for your comfort.
"Not really," you answered truthfully. "They're like my bicycle shorts, so stretchy and breathable. Will it make you feel better to know I have sexier bottoms I'm gonna wear when I change into my comfier dress after food and our first dance?"
He didn't know what your wedding dress looked like, but he had seen the one you were changing into after it.
His free hand went to the window frame, feeling along it until he found where the opened window stopped and ducked his head under it. His face was close to yours, one of his palms still between your legs, the other carefully sliding up the edge of your open robe.
"I'd prefer you wear no panties," he rasped, pulling the silk off your shoulder. His mouth pressed to the newly revealed skin, the soft kiss of his lips and tickle of his mustache, paired with his hand on your pussy beginning to rub, had sparks dancing down your spine. "It's gonna make me hard," his words were muffled between kisses as he moved across your shoulder toward your neck, "seeing you in your wedding dress.” Your fingers went into the hair at the back of his head, his spare hand palming your breast. “I'm gonna lose my fucking mind hearing you say 'I do.'" He was kissing and nibbling at your throat now, the added friction of his palm at the crux of your thighs making it hard to think. "It's gonna drive me fucking crazy that you're my wife—my wife,” he repeated against your throat. “And I’ll be your husband—I already want you, but all I’ll be able to think about after we’re pronounced husband and wife is getting you alone, and if you’re not wearing panties, it’ll make it easier for me to lift up that pretty—“
“No, Javier!” Robyn interrupted, and you felt cold water mist against your bare skin, the spray bottle hissing near your ear. “Bad!”
“Fuck!” he yelped, his head narrowly missing the bottom of the raised window as he pushed back from you so fast you’d think he was burned. His expression had turned grumpy as he stood. “What the fuck was that for?”
“I promised your daddy I wouldn’t let you see her,” she said, looking mad. “But out of the kindness of my heart—” She pressed a hand to the left side of her chest. “—I went against my word to your father, and how do you repay me? By wastin’ time gettin’ fresh with your fiancée when I’m riskin’ your daddy bein’ madder than a box of frogs at me for not doin’ what I said I’d do—you’re bein’ real rude Javier Peña, exploitin’ my niceness and I’d appreciate you sayin’ your goodbyes, and bein’ on your way.”
His eyes were covered, but it was visible how his face shifted from grumpy to guilty.
“I’m sorry, Robyn,” he said.
“Apology accepted. Say goodbye, and then we gotta get back to work.”
“Okay,” he replied.
The other woman headed back to the en suite. Leaning forward, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to step toward you.
“Thank you for coming to see me or, you know, talk to me,” you told him.
He smiled, squeezing your palm. “There was zero chance of me waiting to talk to you until the wedding. I love you too much.”
“I’m happy you did, and I love you, too.”
He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
“I know you will, and I’ll be there.”
Javi sighed. “I better go. Bye, Cielito,” he said and didn’t move.
“You’re gonna see me in a little bit—get going, babe.”
He sighed again. “Fine. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
This time, he quickly pecked the back of your hand and started quietly walking along the front of the house. You assumed he had taken off the sleep mask to sneak away.
You closed and locked the window, shutting the blinds and curtains, feeling happy that you'd be seeing him again soon.
It took some time to finish getting ready, as you wanted to look perfect. Robyn did a fantastic job on your makeup, and your hair turned out well. When you saw yourself all dolled up and wearing your dress, you almost couldn't believe it was your reflection staring back at you in the mirror.
The white, silky satin hugged your curves as it cascaded to the ground to pool around your feet, the fabric having some stretch to it so your movements weren’t hindered. The neckline dipped in a slight V, your upper back bare from under your armpits up, and thin straps went over your shoulders connecting the two sides.
With how the satin draped over your figure, perfectly fitting the contours of your body, then flared out below your knees, it had a Morticia Addams feel to it—change the color of it to black, add sleeves, and you’d find it in her closet.
Javi was right. You looked so amazing that he was absolutely going to get a boner when he saw you.
And wasn't that just the sweetest thing?
A man so in love with you he gets aroused even when you're fully clothed because he thinks you're that pretty. He was also the kind of guy who sometimes got too excited from a kiss, and you had to wait a little while in the car for him to calm down…
"What do you think?" Robyn asked beside you. She'd put on her dress—a lavender-colored, A-line, floor-length gown with ruffled short sleeves and a V-neckline that, as an added bonus, had pockets.
You met her eyes in the mirror. "That I've never looked more beautiful—if you ever wanted to get out of nursing, you'd be a fantastic makeup artist."
She smiled, her full lips painted in rose-pink lipstick. "Thank you, but I prefer doin' it as a hobby and bein' able to help my friends out."
"Well, thank you for making me look insanely pretty."
"All I did was enhance what was already there, girl—Javi's gonna lose it."
"I hope he does."
A knock sounded from the bedroom door, and without a word, your friend went to see who it was.
"Is it okay for Chucho to see you?" Robyn called from the other room.
"Yes!" you answered, and nerves started fluttering in your belly over what he'd think.
Within seconds, your father-in-law was standing in the doorway, where you faced him with a grin.
"Dios mío (My God)," he gasped, his hand going to his mouth, “eres tan hermosa (you’re so beautiful)!” His dark eyes behind his glasses started to shine.
He was wearing light grey slacks, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a tie in the same shade as Robyn’s dress resting against his chest from a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, his camera dangling from a strap around his neck; as usual, his long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.
“Ese vestido es perfecto (That dress is perfect)!” he said. “Estoy tan feliz de que lo hayas elegido porque te ves increíble (I’m so happy you chose it because you look amazing). Javi se va a volver loco (Javi is going to go crazy)."
"You really think so?" you asked, looking down at your outfit.
"Oh, yes." He nodded. "He's not going to leave you alone. We'll have to get a crowbar to pry him away from you."
You giggled, looking at him. "Yeah, I have a feeling he's gonna be stuck to me all night."
"When isn't he?"
The question made you laugh. "Touché."
"I wasn't sure if you'd want to," the older man started, "but I went through mi amor's jewelry to see if there was anything I thought you might want to wear—it could be your something old—” You hadn’t figured out what to do for something old; your something new was the perfume Javi got you for Christmas that you saved for today so he’d have a scent memory. Something borrowed was Chucho’s land, where your ceremony and party would take place, and something blue was a garter from Robyn around your thigh under your dress. “—and I found this necklace,” he said.
That's when you realized he was holding a large, thin, black leather box in his other hand.
Chucho walked closer to you, holding it in a palm, while the other lifted the hinged top—the necklace was made up of many silver waves connected together, purple sapphires resting in each dip, that you counted seventeen in total. It was stunning, the metal and precious gemstones glimmering beneath the lighting.
"I gave this to mi Antonia on our twentieth anniversary," he told you. "We'd visit her family in Mexico two, three times a year, and always for Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). On one visit, she saw this necklace and fell in love with it—it's Taxco silver and known for its high quality; many pieces made with it are crafted by hand and marked, so you know it's real. She wouldn't let me buy it for her because she thought it was too expensive for something she’d hardly wear, but the way she looked at it, I had to get it for her anyway, so I did and surprised her with it on our anniversary; she yelled at me," he chuckled, smiling. "Then had me put it on her and covered my face in kisses." He sighed fondly. "I think if she were here today, this is what she would've chosen for you, too—if you don’t like it, we can go upstairs for you to pick something else out..."
"No, Pop," you said quickly, meeting his gaze. There was a lump in your throat at the thought he'd put into finding you this piece of jewelry. "It's perfect, and I'd love to wear it. Can you help me put it on, please?"
"Yes, Mija." He set the open box on the bathroom counter and picked up the necklace with the same care as you would a newborn. Turning so your back was to him, he had an end in each hand as his arm went over your head to get the silver and sapphires around the front of your neck, clasping it at the back. He stepped away, and you faced him again.
There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were soft. "Mi hija hermosa (My beautiful daughter).” The sentence had your breath hitching. “¿Ella es preciosa, no (She is gorgeous, right)?" he asked Robyn. She understood Spanish but had a hard time speaking it.
The other woman was beside him, grinning. "She sure is," she agreed. "A real stunner."
"I'm so happy this day has finally come." Tears were brimming on his eyelids, and he took off his glasses to wipe them away. "I just wish mi amor was here to see our son marry such a wonderful woman."
Your eyes were burning as you held back from crying. He'd put his eyeglasses back on, and you stepped forward to hug him, being careful of your makeup. His arms went around you, squeezing you back.
"I wish she was here, too," you said. "At least we've got you, the best dad in the whole world. I love you, Pop."
"I love you, too, Mija. Thank you for loving my son and making him the happiest I've ever seen. We're blessed to have you in our lives, and I can't tell you how much joy I feel that you've decided to take our last name; I think it suits you better."
"I think it suits me better, too."
“You’re gonna kill the grass if you keep walking back and forth like that,” the other man told him.
They were at the oak tree on the hill, and the sun was getting close to setting. Javier had his whole outfit on: a black tuxedo and bow tie, white shirt, and lavender pocket square—he’d borrowed a pair of his father’s golden cufflinks, and one of his mother’s violet roses was pinned to his lapel. He didn’t have a cigarette to calm his nerves, so he was pacing, but the comment had him stopping with a sigh.
"Are you wearing a hole in the ground 'cause you're being impatient?" Steve continued. "Or are you nervous?"
His gaze went to his best friend, who was standing in front of him holding a small, white, heart-shaped pillow adorned in lace that went around the edges—there were two golden rings, one bigger than the other, secured to the top of it by a satin ribbon tied into a bow. The older man was dressed in a charcoal-colored suit he regularly wore to work, with a new tie provided by Javier that matched his lavender pocket square. Nate was in a carrier on his back; the parents put the one-year-old in a onesie that made him look like he was wearing a tuxedo and some dark pants, the child happily chewing on a football-shaped teething toy.
His hands went to his hips as he frowned. “Both?” Javier answered. “I can’t wait to see her, and I’m nervous about saying shi-stuff—“ He quickly corrected himself with the children present. “—I usually save for when we’re alone.”
Steve was giving him a weird look. “My kids are here. This ‘stuff’ is appropriate for them to hear, right…? It’s not anything… lewd…?”
Javier’s eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not anything like that, you judgemental pri-prude.”
The blonde man’s free hand went up in a placating gesture. “Hey, you said you save it for when you’re alone, and y’all have stayed at our house—any time the two of you were alone, you… folded laundry.”
“Folded laundry…?”
“Javi,” Connie said to get his attention, and he looked over to where she was fussing with the purple bow in Olivia’s hair. “You know when there’s a big load of laundry that requires two adults to fold, and they have to lock the bedroom door so there aren’t any distractions.”
Oh, ‘folding laundry’ was their code word for sex—that was smart.
“Mom and Dad have been folding a lot of laundry together lately,” Olivia added with a quizzical expression. “I didn’t know it was so hard to do alone—the baskets don’t seem that big.”
Javier smiled, his head turning from one parent to the other, seeing they were avoiding his eyes and blushing—good for them, fucking regularly.
“It’s more satisfying to do laundry with someone, so it gets done quicker,” he said.
“Doesn’t seem to get done quicker,” she replied.
Steve cleared his throat before he spoke. “Anyways, enough about laundry—what are you planning to say that’s got you nervous, Jav?”
He stopped smiling and scratched his mustache. “Uh, like, lovey-dovey, romantic crap…”
His best friend’s smile grew into a shit-eating grin. “What, like, super cheesy stuff? Are you gonna read the poetry you wrote about her eyes in your diary or something?”
Javier ground his teeth.
"Leave him alone, Steve," Connie said. "In our wedding video, before I walked down the aisle, you were clearly figuring out where all of the nearest exits were in the church. It’s refreshing and sweet that Javi’s gonna be vulnerable in front of everyone for the woman he loves.”
"I was checking where the exits were in case of a fire!" Steve rebuked. "All those candles they lit made me nervous."
"If that's what you tell yourself." She didn’t sound convinced.
“I was! Why did we need to be here forty-five minutes early?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “I was really enjoying the food your aunties were feeding us back at the house.”
There wasn’t a chance for Javier to respond; the answer to the question was he wanted to show how eager he was to marry the woman he actually loved and avoid any chance of being late—it also was a ‘fuck you’ to the people betting against him at the bar.
"Tío, tío!" The three-year-old Stevie shouted, running up to him; he was holding a Ninja Turtle action figure he'd been playing with in the grass.
Javier smiled, his attention moving to the child, crouching to be at his level. "Yes, mi principito (my little prince)?"
"We match!" His tiny finger pointed at his little light purple bow tie over his white dress shirt. The kid refused to wear a regular tie like his dad, and the only way they got him to agree to the clip-on bow tie was by telling him Javier had one, too.
His friends weren't by any means struggling with money, but Javier and his wif-fiancée, sent them a check to pay for their trip to Texas, which included flights, lodging, a rental car, and clothes for the wedding since they wanted those at the ceremony to match—Olivia got a new dress and so did her mom in the shade of lavender everyone else was wearing.
The family had gotten into town the day before. Cielito and Javier had shown them around town and taken them out to the ranch where Chucho and Connie finally got to meet in person—there was a lot of hugging—and that evening, they all, including his father, went out to dinner. Today, he’d spent more time with his friends before they all needed to get ready, then they followed him out to the ranch to distract Chucho while Javier covertly went to see, or, well, talk to his bride-to-be—the sleep mask was Connie’s idea, and she thought them sneakily meeting without anyone knowing was incredibly romantic.
"We do, bud,” he said. “You look so cool." He gently patted the child's arm.
Stevie was grinning. "I'm gonna walk from Mommy to Daddy and give him the rings?"
The hill they were on wasn’t too steep; Olivia was fine with walking up it from the bottom—she was excited to do it. For her younger brother, it was too much for him, so Connie was going to stand with Stevie a little before the land evened out at the top to signal when it was time for him to walk to his father.
"Yes," he nodded. "You'll walk while holding the pillow with the rings and hand it to your dad."
"It's a special job?"
"It's very special."
"Sissy's gonna throw flowers?"
"Yes, flower petals."
"It's a special job, too?"
"It is. They’re both important. Thank you for helping me, mi principito (my little prince).” He ruffled the child’s dirty blonde hair, making Stevie laugh.
Javier’s primos, Sebastián, and his tía Rebeca's daughter, Angelita, were taking care of the videography and photography, respectively. Seb had the video camera Javier bought, and Angelita had her own gear since she was a professional photographer—when you had fourteen cousins on just your father’s side, the odds were in your favor, one of them could either help with what you needed or knew somebody who could.
Photos were taken of Javier with the Murphys when they all first got there, and then his primos told everyone to pretend they weren’t there while they got candids and views of the scenery—his cousins arrived together in Sebastián’s SUV.
“Hey, Javi?” Seb said as he walked toward him.
"I gotta talk to him, buddy," Javier told Stevie. "I'll be back." He rose up with a groan, taking a few steps to reach his primo. "Yeah?" he answered.
When camcorders first came out, they were big and had to be rested on the operator’s shoulder, but the one Seb was using, he held in one of his hands with the side pulled open to see the little screen that previewed what was being recorded. The younger man hit a button on the video camera to pause what he’d been doing. “Do you want me to interview people?” Seb asked. “Ask how they like the wedding, if they have any advice, that kinda stuff.”
"Uh." He thought about it and Cielito would probably enjoy that. "Sure.”
"Perfecto (Perfect)." Seb nodded, hitting the button to record again.
Javier immediately regretted his decision when the camera was put in his face.
“It’s your big day, primo,” Seb said. “How are you feeling?”
“Um, excited and nervous.”
“The audience would like to hear how you met your bride.”
Javier smiled, heat rising on his cheeks. “At the grocery store, in the produce department—I guess it was obvious I was struggling to pick out a tomato, and she came to my rescue and showed me what to look for.”
“What was your first impression of her?”
He scratched at the back of his neck while looking away. “Uh, that she was sweet for helping me out, and beautiful. I could tell she had a good, kind heart and—” he lowered his voice so the children wouldn’t hear him. “—no fuckin’ clue who I was.” He chuckled. “I was hooked from that first conversation; an instant connection—there was something about her that told me she was going to be someone important to me, and I’d never felt that with anyone else.”
“What’d you do for your first date?”
His immediate thought was what happened after the bar, and his face felt hot. “We, uh, went out for drinks.”
“When did you know you loved her?”
He looked at the camera. “Honestly? Our third date. We were dancing in her kitchen to “¿Y cómo es él?”—”
“Mi mamá loves that song,” Seb said.
Javier huffed, smiling. “All my tías do. So, uh, we were dancing in her kitchen, and I realized she was the woman I was going to marry. I could see us having a future and was picturing what our Sunday mornings would look like—which, they’re exactly how I imagined—yeah, I knew I loved her on the third date and that we were going to get married one day.” He cleared his throat. “When my dad tells the story of the first time he saw my mother, he says his gut told him she was the one, and I always thought he was talking out of his—ass,” he whispered. “But it’s real and crazy to know deep down inside that you’ve found the person who completes you—feeling that confirmed she was it and that I truly did love her.”
“I think I know the feeling you’re talking about, and it’s great.”
“It is, and at your wedding, I’m gonna grill you on camera about it.”
“Hey, your wife is gonna eat this up, and you both want kids; think about your hijos (children) watching this one day and seeing how much you love their mom on your wedding day.”
The thought of sitting on the couch surrounded by his wife and kids, watching this wedding video, made him soften to the point he was putty—he wanted it to be a reality one day.
“What’s something you want to say to the bride before you get married?” Seb asked.
“I love you, and today is the best day of my entire fucking life—”
“—Eso es un dólar en la jarra, tío (That’s a dollar in the jar, uncle).” Olivia interrupted.
She meant the swear jar.
Javier sighed. “Lo siento, mi tesorito (I’m sorry, my little treasure). As I was saying, mi Cielito, I love you, and today is the best day of my entire freaking life. Happy isn’t enough to describe how I feel about us starting this new chapter of being husband and wife, and I’m looking forward to our future full of love, happiness, and hopefully, a lot of kids.” He smiled big. “I love you more than anything, and I will tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).” To end the sentence, he blew a kiss at the camera lens.
In order to get to where Javi was, it involved Chucho driving you off-road, and the trip was bumpy; you sat in the passenger seat, and Robyn was in the backseat, and because your father-in-law was probably as nervous as you were about speaking in front of people, he held your hand the entire way.
The previous day, when you brought the Murphys out to the ranch, you’d taken them to where you were going to be wed to do a quick rehearsal on how things would go; Olivia was beyond ecstatic to be a flower girl, and Stevie didn’t really understand what was going on, except that his tío Javi had an important job for him.
Chucho pulled up and parked at the base of the hill with your door opposite it so you couldn’t get a closer look at everyone atop it. The butterflies in your belly were flapping around so hard you thought they might get out, while your mind was racing with what could go wrong like you falling—that was a reason you wore flats, but with how much of your dress touched the ground, there was a chance of it tripping you up. Or what if Javi’s handsomeness made your brain stop working, and you couldn’t speak a single coherent word? Something that has happened before. God, your heart was pounding, and you thought you might be having a minor panic attack due to your vision starting to tunnel—a small silver flask was held up in front of your face, the cap already twisted off.
“Take a drink, Mija,” Chucho’s soothing voice said. “It’ll calm you down.”
The man was a lifesaver.
You grabbed it, taking a big swig, and your face pinched as the whiskey burned down your throat—from the taste and smoothness, you recognized it as Javi’s favorite, which was top shelf, a little spendy, and probably came from the bottle your fiancé gifted his dad to thank him for his help in getting you to give the green light to start your family.
The effect the alcohol had on you was almost immediate, feeling all of the tense muscles in your body relax at the same time. Your father-in-law took the flask from you and knocked it back with a drink of his own.
“Robyn?” he asked when he finished, holding it up for her to reach.
“Don’t mind if I do,” she replied, accepting it from him to take a gulp.
“I couldn’t see Antonia before our wedding,” he said, his head turned your way, “or talk to her. We were kept apart at the church, and I was so nervous that I was shaking like a leaf.” He chuckled. “Not about getting married, but having to stand in front of so many people. It had to be minutes before I needed to go out with the priest that mi amor’s maid of honor, her best friend, found me to give me an opened bottle of tequila and a note written by Antonia that read, ‘Mi amor, un trago para el coraje (My love, a drink for courage). Yo también necesitaba uno (I needed one, too).’ And she left a lipstick stamp of her lips at the bottom, where she kissed the paper. I won’t deny it. I kissed where her lips had been and took two shots.”
The story made you smile.
Chucho had put on a jacket that matched his light grey pants, and you watched as he pulled something from the inside pocket. It was a small folded piece of paper that’d been ripped from the notepad he kept by the answering machine at his house to write down messages. He passed it over to you, and you unfolded it, finding Javi’s scratchy handwriting. You read what he wrote:
Cielito,
You said you were never drinking again, but I think this can be an exception since you’re probably freaking the fuck out about embarrassing yourself like I am. I’m worried I’ll see how beautiful you are and forget how to talk, or my brain will stop working.
Have a drink to calm your nerves, and know it will all be okay because we’re doing this together.
I love you,
Your husband
The note was touching, especially since he knew how you’d be feeling.
“When did he write this?” you asked Chucho, whose eyes you met, the man smiling.
“When he met up with Connie and all of them at the house before they came out here. I’d given him the flask when he got there as a gift, but he told me to keep it for you and asked if he could write you a message. It reminded me so much of his mother, I couldn’t say no.”
“Thanks, Pop. I needed it.”
“I know you did, Mija.” He patted your leg.
When Javier saw his father's truck in the distance, his heart rate increased, and by the time they parked at the bottom of the hill, his heart was beating so fast that he was sure it was going to beat right out of his chest.
With where he was standing at the tree and how the land sloped, he didn’t have a visual. Steve was beside him with Nate still in the carrier, Connie and Stevie, who was holding the pillow with the rings, had walked to the top of the hill and were looking down it, probably watching Olivia, who booked it to join the people at the truck. Seb was near Steve's wife and kid with the camcorder and a battery-powered boombox on the ground he was supposed to hit play on when Robyn gave him the signal.
Sweat was forming on his brow and on his palms. He turned to Steve.
"Do I look okay?" he asked his friend. "How's my hair? And the bow tie?" He lifted his chin.
The other man was wearing an amused smile. "Hair and bow tie look as fine as they did when you asked five minutes ago." He put a hand on Javier's shoulder and squeezed. "Relax, man—you look great. She's gonna love what she sees."
"I fucking hope so."
The sun had started its descent on the horizon and was the backdrop for the place they’d be standing; the sky where it met land was lit up in burning orange, bleeding into golden yellow where the sun was positioned, and high above that, it turned into a calming mauve.
The soft, melodic sound of a piano began, and it was Javier's cue to face the others. Christine McVie’s voice floated through the air as she sang the opening to the Fleetwood Mac song, "Songbird:"
“For you there'll be no more crying
For you the Sun will be shining
And I feel that when I'm with you
It's alright, I know it's right.”
Seconds later, Robyn came into view, smiling while holding a small bouquet of sunflowers with a lavender ribbon wrapped around the stems. She shot her boyfriend, Sebastián, a wink as she passed him. She took her spot across from Javier beside where Cielito would be.
When he discussed with his wife-to-be the music for today, she only knew for sure what she wanted them to dance their first dance to, and since Javier didn’t object to it, she left what she’d walk down the aisle to up to him. He knew she’d hate the traditional “Bridal Chorus,” a couple of Elvis Presley songs came to mind, “No Sé Tú” by Luis Miguel perfectly described how Javier felt when they met and was a good option, “At Last” by Etta James would be appropriate, too, and “I Could Fall in Love” by Selena was in the running, because, Selena, but then he remembered this song on Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours—his favorite album, and for good reason with it having some of the band’s best classics like “The Chain,” “Dreams,” and “Go Your Own Way;” it was also seeping with palpable heartbreak of a messy breakup, except for the track, “Songbird.” It was a major tonal shift from all the angst with its pretty piano and Christine McVie crooning her love. What sold him on it were the lines:
“To you, I’ll give the world
To you, I’ll never be cold
‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you
It’s alright, I know it’s right.”
He loved it when he heard it played live at the band's concert twenty-three years ago—he’d been seventeen and still in high school; he and his buddies snuck off to Fort Worth to see them, and “Songbird” was the last song of their set before the encore.
It was his three-year-old sobrino’s (nephew’s) turn to walk forward, his mom sending him to his dad with the rings—they all laughed at how he ran as fast as he could, making Javier smile.
"Here, Daddy," the child said to Steve, holding up the pillow.
His father accepted it.
"Great job, kiddo—high-five." His friend had to bend a little to gently hit his palm to Stevie’s tinier one, and the toddler turned to Javier expectantly, who, of course, bent his knees and high-fived him.
"You did good, buddy,” he said.
Steve told his son to stand with him, and Connie went to be next to Robyn as everyone watched Olivia walk up, tossing red rose petals from a small white basket, leaving a trail of them behind her. He hum-sang under his breath along with the song:
“And the songbirds are singing
Like they know the score
And I love you, I love you, I love you
Like never before.”
Finally, his bride came into view, her eyes locking onto his, and all the love he had for, all of his happiness, and thanks he had to the universe for making this day happen overflowed from him, falling as tears down his face and made his smile so big, he could feel the dimple in his cheek.
She was breathtaking and better than anything he could’ve imagined; this moment would be seared into his brain for all eternity, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy in his entire life—he almost told Steve to make sure he didn’t float away.
Her bouquet was made up of roses from his mother’s garden, and his heart felt like it would burst. Then the dress—Jesus Christ, the dress was perfect with how it molded to her body and showed off her tits from the neckline V-ing between them. His fingers were itching to see if the fabric was as buttery smooth as it looked, wanting to explore the expanse with his fingertips, mapping out every curve, line, and dip he’d already ventured countless times before but now on a new canvas; He desired to feel her softness under his palms and cradle her beautiful face to kiss those delectable lips he so loved; he wanted to hold her in his arms, her familiar shape he knew as intimately as his own, pressed against him, where she belonged.
All of it was getting him too excited, and his pants were feeling tighter, just as he suspected might happen.
Javier’s dream wedding night would have them partying with their friends and family well into the later hours and holding off on consummating their marriage until they retired to the room he rented at the nicest hotel in town he was surprising her with. He’d been determined to do just that up until he had to spend the previous evening by himself where he was alone with his thoughts and ruminated on how beautiful she was going to look, that she was going to be his wife, and one day soon, the mother of his children; since she wasn’t there to distract him by simply being in his vicinity, he worked himself up until he was rock hard and had to take a freezing shower.
He didn’t see there being any chance they’d make it to the hotel without them fucking at least once beforehand.
God, she was so fucking gorgeous.
He had to wipe at the wetness on his face, his smile continuing to shine.
Telling her his feelings in front of everyone wasn’t all he’d been nervous about; his brain was a real asshole, and there’d been a tiny thread of worry she wasn’t going to show—it was stupid, to have even fathomed something so absurd, yet looking at how shitty his luck was up until they met, he thought it wouldn’t have been too surprising that this time he’d be the one left at the altar.
But she was here! She came! And he was so overjoyed he couldn’t stop crying.
Wait.
Oh, fuck, she was close now—what was he supposed to do? It only just registered that she was walking with his dad, and they were almost to him, and he couldn’t remember what needed to happen when she got to him. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and he was starting to panic that he didn’t know what his next move was, worried he was going to fuck it all up; it was unbelievable that he’d been in gunfights, had to think on the fly to stay alive many times, and put on press conferences, yet at this moment when there wasn’t any danger or eager reporters, he was so overwhelmed by the woman he loved’s beauty, and that she was marrying him, his brain had ceased functioning entirely, and he was spiraling at embarrassing himself with so many onlookers.
Javi was having a panic attack.
The change in his eyes, how they went from bright and happy to panicked, clued you in, and any nervousness you felt flew out the window because your only concern was helping him.
Unhooking your arm from Chucho, you held out the hand, not holding flowers to Robyn.
“Flask me,” you said. Quickly, she pulled it from her pocket and passed it to you, taking your bouquet in return. You stepped in front of your betrothed as you unscrewed the cap on the container of booze. “Hey, baby,” you said in a soothing tone. “You’re okay.” You grabbed his hand and put the flask in it, pushing it toward his face. “Have a drink to calm your nerves. Everything is gonna be okay, honey. Remember, we’re doing this together—it’s just us.”
The music had stopped playing.
He shook his head once like he was trying to shake the bad stuff out, and he took a drink, or several, with how his Adam’s apple kept bobbing.
“Looks like I’ll be driving us after this.” The adults surrounding you chuckled, and you smiled.
His hand lowered, and his vision focused on you, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“No reason to be sorry—I freaked out in the car.” You took the flask from him, screwed on the cap, and handed it back to Robyn without looking. “Feeling better?” you asked, smoothing your fingers over his bangs while his eyes were on yours.
“Much,” he answered with a small smile, his palms moving to rest on your hips.
“Wanna get married?”
“More than anything.”
“Good—liquid courage helps.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek, then put your lips near his ear for only him to hear, “Say the word, and we’ll pack up, go party with everyone, and hit the courthouse tomorrow.”
He spoke softly in your ear, “Thank you, Cielito, but I promise I’m okay.” He kissed your cheek. “I told you I’d see how beautiful you are and forget how to function.”
You giggled, pulling back to look at him, taking in the black tuxedo jacket and bow tie over his crisp white shirt and the lavender pocket square and the pinned violet rose for a pop of color—his hair still looked good, and you rubbed away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.
When he saw you in your wedding dress, the expression on his face was something you’d never forget—it was a look of pure, uninhibited joy, and you were sure you saw hearts in his eyes with how they beamed his immense love and devotion. The way that it had him crying happy tears made you feel emotional that someone loved you with such magnitude. It’s why your immediate thought when you saw him panicking wasn’t that he wanted to back out, knowing from his note that he was freaking the fuck out about embarrassing himself, and the nerves got him.
“Let’s get married.” His head turned to kiss one of your palms.
“Let’s get married.”
Turning to your almost-father-in-law, you gave him a quick hug, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to give Javi a side hug, careful of the stuff held in one of his hands and whispering something in his son’s ear, you didn’t catch.
The elder Peña went to stand at his place in front of the tree, holding his worn, soft leather bible, with a picture of Javi’s mother stuck to the cover and a note card sticking out from between the pages to mark a spot.
Javier took your hand, and you both walked the few steps to your spots before his father; he grasped your other palm in his once you faced one another, Chucho on your left and Javi’s right.
Your husband-to-be mouthed, ‘I love you,’ and you silently replied with the movement of your lips, ‘I love you, too.’
Chucho cleared his throat, and your attention went to him.
“Welcome, loved ones,” he started, “we are gathered here today in the sight of God and each other to bear witness to the perfect union of Javier, and—” He said your name. “What a joyous day we get to share with them as they embark on this new journey of a life together in matrimony that will, no doubt, be long, healthy, and filled with love, happiness, and laughter.
“Mijo, Mija,” he addressed you both, “I called this union between you perfect, and I meant it. Besides my marriage to my dear Antonia, que en paz descanse (may she rest in peace), I cannot think of two other people more suited to share a life together. It’s clear the good you bring out in one another and how happy you make each other.” His eyes landed on you. “And you truly make my son happy. This might come as a shock,” he said to everyone in attendance, “but Javier is a smiley guy when he’s happy, and I haven’t seen him smile so much in a long, long time.
“He also has never been able to hide his feelings because that handsome face of his tells his secrets—it’s his—” He glanced at you. “—I’m stealing this from you, Mija—it’s his puppy dog eyes, he got from his mother, and she suffered the same problem.” His gaze stayed on you. “I know Javier loves you more than there’s blue in all the sky because he looks at you the same way mi amor looked at me, and as we know, their eyes don’t lie.”
He was right, and it made you choke up that he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such honesty and the weight of so much love.
Chucho looked at his son. “Your media naranja (soulmate) isn’t much better.” He nodded toward you. “Her eyes betray her, too, even when she does her damndest to hide behind a mask. When she looks at you, though, the truth of her love is revealed—her thoughts are loud when she stares at you, and sometimes I think I can hear them; the declaration of ‘I love you,’ she’s repeating over and over again. She looks at you like you’re her whole world, and I know it’s true from those looks, how she treats and cares for you, the things she does for you, even when you don’t ask, and the effort she puts into cultivating your relationship.”
He spoke to you both again. “Marriage can be wonderful with the right person, but it isn’t always easy; I want to take a moment and give you some advice that kept my marriage happy.
“Be best friends—talk about everything, even when you don’t want to or it’s a hard subject. Communicate your needs and wants constantly, and don’t stop talking to each other. Be best friends who share everything, and I mean everything, because your relationship needs to be built upon trust, and there’s nothing better than spending your life with your best friend.
“Keep having fun—joke around, cook together, dance in the kitchen, don’t stop having fun. And keep dating each other. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean that the dating stops. Go out, stay in, just have romantic time you dedicate to one another; that way, the spark stays alive. I know it’ll be harder to do when you have kids; you’ll be exhausted and won’t have much energy. Dating still needs to be a priority, and it doesn’t have to be anything exciting; it can be as simple as putting the kids to bed, staying up, watching a movie together, or baking cookies.”
“—or folding laundry together,” Steve interjected.
Javi chuckled, and you were confused. He leaned toward you to whisper in your ear, “It’s their code word for sex.”
“Oh, that’s smart,” you said as he straightened.
A furrow was between Chucho’s eyebrows. “I guess folding laundry can be romantic…” the older man said. “Now, where was I?” He opened his bible and pulled out the notecard, his eyes scanning over. “Oh, yes—anyone can fall in love; it’s nurturing that love, sharing your life with the other, facing challenges together, and growing as one that makes it real love, and what you have is real. The love you share and I had with my wife is beautiful, but it’s also fierce, it’s powerful, and all consuming; it’s not something anyone can get between and will live on even when you no longer walk the earth. I know you didn’t want a religious ceremony, but there’s a scripture I’d like to share that perfectly describes what I mean. May I?” he asked, his bible already open to the page.
Javier and you figured he’d slip in a verse or two simply because he was a devout Christian man. It was nice of him to ask permission first, though. You turned your head to meet your almost-husband’s eyes and shrugged that you were fine with it. He smiled, his attention going back to his father.
“Go ahead,” Javi said.
Chucho had a toothy grin. “Wonderful—it’s in Songs of Solomon 8 and reads: Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.”
He shut the bible with one hand, his notes resting atop it.
“I wish more people got to experience that kind of love—it’d do the world a whole lot of good. Javier—” He looked at his son, then over to you, saying your name. “I know with how you feel for each other, it’s natural to think marriage is the next step in your relationship. I want you to be sure you know what you’re getting into.” His eyes were moving between you both. “This is a lifelong commitment that will have its ups and downs, highs and lows, and you’ll need to challenge yourselves to love the other more completely each and every day. Are you ready to take this step?”
Without missing a beat, Javi and you said simultaneously, ‘Yes,’ your hands still in his.
Chucho smiled. “Wonderful. Javier—” His eyes went to his son. “—do you take—” He said your name. “—to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you honor her, cherish her, love, trust, and commit to her and her alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” Javi said.
His father turned his attention to you and addressed you by name. “—do you take Javier to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor him, cherish him, love, trust, and commit to him and him alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” you answered.
“It’s time for you to share the vows you’ve written for one another before you exchange rings. Who’d like to go first?”
“Me!” you said immediately, and everyone laughed. “I need to get them out of the way before Javi makes me a blubbering mess. Robyn, vows me.” Turning her way, you put out your hand, and she juggled the two bouquets she held to pull a folded piece of paper from her pocket to hand to you. “Have I told you your dress is amazing?” you asked her.
“Thank you—I look good and have pockets. What could be better?”
“Dresses with pockets are a game-changer.” You faced Javi, and heat bloomed up your neck and on your face at remembering you had to say how you felt in front of people.
“Hey,” Javi said to get your attention, and your gazes locked. “It’s just me,” he whispered. “Talk to me—no one else is here.”
“Right.” You smiled, then focused on the lined notebook paper you unfolded that had your writing on it. “Javier Jesús Peña López,” you began, “the first of his name, King of my heart, Lord of our tiny apartment, and Protector of me—”
“Just Javi’s fine,” he said.
You giggled. “Javi, not a day goes by that I am unaware of how lucky I am to have found you. When I think about how much time you spent away from this town—that I both love and hate—all the people you’ve met, the life you’ve lived, and the things you’ve gone through, it’s a miracle our paths crossed, and possibly Divine Intervention or the universe doing me a solid, that after everything that’s happened to you, you’ve ended up here, with me.
“It’s crazy the number of obstacles we’ve had to face together and how many people are obsessed with making your life difficult—this isn’t me complaining. I’m weirdly thankful for it; it’s kept us on our toes and tested our bond. It’s improved our communication and has built a strong foundation for our relationship.
“Something I’m also thankful for is the trust we share. I can count on you. I know you’re true to your word, and I have no reason to worry about you ever being deceitful.
“What’s also reassuring is your star signs back up the faith I have in you—as a Sagittarius, you value honesty, and when you find someone you think is really worth it, you commit, and you commit hard. With Capricorn and Scorpio in your top three, you’re super loyal, a little possessive, and definitely a relationship guy. To sum all of that up, you’re pretty much perfect and an amazing partner.
“You’re a good man, the best I’ve known. My life is better with you in it. Thank you for loving me.” Tears started to distort your vision, the emotion coming through in your voice. “Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for your unwavering support and for being my rock. Thank you for being my protector and making me feel so safe with you. Thank you for being my best friend and the love of my life.”
You had to take a deep breath to calm yourself.
“Here are my promises to you,” you said, “I promise to love you until the end of time, and if I happen to go first, haunt you until we can be together again.” He chuckled. “I promise to be your protector and to always have your back; I will go to battle for you in a heartbeat, and hopefully, you know that. I promise to be honest, and it should go without saying because, as we’ve established, you’re perfect, but I promise to be faithful. I promise to keep making you laugh and smile. I promise to put you first and to always be your best friend—sorry, Steve.”
“You can have him,” Steve replied, and everyone laughed.
You continued speaking, “I promise to make your mother’s tamales a couple times a year—I promise to make you one of her other recipes on the days you miss her particularly bad. I promise to keep reminding you that you’re sexier and better than Harrison Ford.” That one made him and the others crack up. “I promise to rap “Whatta Man” for you every time it comes on, so you don’t forget whatta man you are. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen every chance we get. I promise to try, keyword here, try, not to recite the movies word for word when we watch Star Wars or Addams Family Values. I promise to always make sure we don’t run out of limes or your hot sauce or side-eye you when you put either on the perfectly seasoned food I made. I promise to always leave you the last of the ice cream because you’re a dirty liar when you say you don’t want it. I promise to tell you I love you every day until the day I die. I promise that you and your love will always be enough, and I’ll always pick you; I’ll always choose you over anyone else.
“Today, the separate books of our lives have come to an end, and we’re starting the next one together—I can’t wait to see what each new chapter will bring. What I know for sure—” You glanced over at Chucho. “—I’m stealing this from you, Pop—” Your eyes went to Javi’s, and his were reddened, his face glistening from crying and flushed from the alcohol. “—What I know for sure,” you said, “is this new adventure we’re beginning, will be filled with love, happiness, and laughter.
“Javi, you are my person. You’re the love of my life, my one true love, mi media naranja, the person I want to go to sleep with every night and wake up with every morning. You’re my best friend and my forever.
“I love you, Javier Jesús Peña López and I am so happy I get to spend eternity with you.”
His smile was big enough his dimple was showing and you hated that you couldn’t kiss him.
Chucho sniffled, putting his bible under his arm to get his handkerchief from his pocket, lifting his glasses to wipe away his tears.
“That was beautiful, Mija. When you’re ready, Javi, go ahead.”
All she said had Javier feeling so unbelievably happy that he couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears streaming down his cheeks, and he thought his smile might be permanently stuck on his face—he was sure the alcohol wasn’t helping him to keep his composure.
His dad’s speech had gotten him, too, especially about how Chucho could see her feelings for him and said their love was real. He always wondered if the intensity of what he felt for her was normal, and hearing that his parents were the same way reassured him that they just had a strong connection. His father’s advice was helpful, too, and he planned on following it.
She looked incredible and smelled amazing; her perfume wasn’t one she’d worn before, but he knew the scent because he got it for her as a Christmas present—it was intoxicating, and he was dying to shove his face into her neck to drown himself in it. With the emotions she was eliciting from him, her beauty, the perfume, and the whiskey he drank, it was a heady combination that had him feeling buzzed, and he was so caught up in all of it that it had completely slipped his mind that he had to speak.
“Shit,” he said under his breath and barely pulled open the left side of his jacket to get into the inside pocket. First, he grabbed his reading glasses, which he put on, then the folded piece of yellow, lined paper he’d taken from a legal pad at work.
“I am literally the luckiest woman in the world,” Cielito said, and his eyes lifted to her. She was smiling, her eyelashes wet, and she looked incredibly delighted.
“The glasses?” he asked with a smirk.
“Oh, yeah,” she answered. “You’re spoiling me. I get glasses Javi in a tuxedo, and he’s gonna say pretty, romantic things about how much he loves me—talk about the best day ever.”
“With how you look?” he said. “It’s my best day ever, too.”
She playfully smacked his arm. “Stop it, don’t make me want to suck—”
Robyn started coughing loudly, and his wife-to-be’s eyes widened.
“—hug you more,” she tried to save and cringed. “Hugs, not drugs, am I right?” She chuckled nervously.
He snorted, shaking his head. “You ready?” he asked.
“Wait.” Her upper body twisted so she could look behind her. “Tissue me,” she said to Robyn, and her friend got a clean one out of her pocket and exchanged it for Cielito’s folded paper. She faced him again. “Okay, I’m ready. Remember to focus on me. No one else is here.”
“That’ll be easy.” He cleared his throat, his eyes moving to what he’d written. It wasn’t something he said often, but he let her first name slide off his tongue, thinking how perfect it was going to sound paired with his last. “—mi Cielito, mi amor, mi alma, mi media naranja, y ahora, mi esposa (My Cielito, my love, my soul, my soulmate, and now, my wife), my life didn’t begin until the moment I met you; what I mean by that, is I was alive, yes, I was breathing, I had a pulse, but I didn’t start living until we met. You made me want to live and be happy—for so long, I thought I would die miserable and alone, and you showed me that I deserved happiness and to be loved.” His eyes were burning, and the following sentence made him choke up. “You showed me I deserved a family of my own.” Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I thank the universe, the powers that be. I thank whoever let you find me because I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”
He went off script to look into her beautiful, teary eyes. “Pop was right; I love you more than there’s blue in the sky, I love you more than there’s water in all the depths of the oceans, I love you more than there are stars in the entire galaxy—I love you more than anything, and I mean anything.”
He focused on what he’d written again. “I once told you I didn’t believe in true love, and I didn’t—that was just made-up stuff in the cartoon movies I watched with Olivia. Or at least I thought it was before you, and then, having you in my life, I discovered it was real. With you, ‘media naranja (soulmate)’ isn’t just a term of endearment; it’s an acknowledgment that you’re my other half and that we’re two parts meant to be together. Love with you transcends what most people have; we feel it deeper than our bones, all the way down into our souls, where we’re connected.
“Our love is true love.”
Wetness was dripping from his eyes to splatter onto the paper.
“Those fairytale movies got something right, and it’s that this kind of love would make a person fight dragons and sea witches for their true love. As my father said, it’s fierce, powerful, and all-consuming. It doesn’t end when our hearts stop beating; it continues on—it’s infinite—what we feel for one another is more than a single life can handle, and I’ll follow you when this one’s over; we’ll find each other again, and live another life together because there is no me without you or you without me.
“From the first day we met, I knew you were special. We spent hours talking in that bar, and I’ve never felt such peace or so comfortable with someone; with you, I don’t have to keep my guard up. I can be vulnerable, speak what’s on my mind, and openly show my affection. With you, I’m safe, and from the first night, you were my Cielito, my little heaven—there’s no better name for you, not with how happy you make me, how you make me feel, and how much better my life is with you.
“You’re my little heaven, mi Cielito, my everything. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known—thank you.” His voice faltered, and he had to wipe at his eyes as best he could beneath his glasses. “Those two words aren’t enough to express my gratitude, and I will spend every waking moment showing you how thankful I am for you and all you’ve done.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, “it’s not enough, but thank you.”
He sounded gravelly, the words thick. “In you, I’ve found love, a wife, a partner for life, a best friend, an incredible lover, a home, a teacher to show me how to live; someone who makes me happy, makes me laugh, someone to have a family with, who supports me, inspires me, and makes me want to be a better man.
“Thank you for being all of this and more. Thank you for marrying me today and making me the happiest man in the entire goddamn universe.
“Fuck,” he breathed, taking off his readers to hold with the paper while his other hand scrubbed away the tears. “I really hoped I wouldn’t cry this much—it’s embarrassing.”
“I love it,” she reassured. “It just shows you really mean what you’re saying.”
He put the lenses back on and looked at her, seeing her eyes were red from crying, the tissue in her hand stained with mascara—she’d managed to keep from ruining the rest of her makeup.
“I do mean it all,” he said.
She was smiling. “I know.”
Javier composed himself by taking a deep breath and clearing his throat. Finally, he was ready to speak again. “It was hard figuring out my vows because I wanted to promise you everything your heart could possibly desire, but Pop said that was boring.” He frowned.
“And that he needed to do better,” Chucho added.
Javier sighed.
“I would’ve been fine with that vow,” Cielito said.
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Pop was right. You deserve the best.” He took another deep breath and slowly let it out, looking at what he’d written and patting himself on the back for making notes—he was definitely too emotional and tipsy to have remembered everything he wanted to say. “Cielito,” he started, “you have all my love and devotion, and I give you myself; my mind, body, and soul belong to you. I vow to never stop loving you, even when this earth is no more and the stars stop shining. I vow to make you feel loved and cherished until the end of my days. I vow to always be your best friend, your confidant, your shoulder to cry on, y un chismoso contigo (and a gossiper with you)—me encanta chismear contigo (I love to gossip with you).”
She giggled, and he smiled.
“I vow to be your equal in everything and give more than I take. I vow to always be there for you no matter what, in sickness and health, when life is easy and hard, I’ll stand by you and be your anchor.” The next one made his smile get bigger. “I vow to treat you like una reina (a queen) and be the best husband you could ask for so when you brag to your girlfriends, they can see their worth and deserve to be treated like queens, too. I vow to be the best father, one you can rely on, and doesn’t call watching my own children babysitting; I’ll pull my weight, I’ll never let you get overwhelmed, and I’ll be an active parent who loves our kids so fu-freaking much.”
“I vow to keep you safe and always make you feel safe; I’ll protect you and our children with my life. I vow to make sure all of your needs are met.” He smirked, glancing at her. “I vow to ‘fold laundry’ with you whenever you ask.” He winked, and she laughed.
“Why are adults so obsessed with laundry?” He heard Olivia ask.
“I’m wonderin’ the same thing, kiddo,” Robyn said. “I’m not obsessed with it.”
“Oh, believe me, you are,” Connie replied.
“I know the stars,” Javier said, “that astrology stuff you love, told you this already, but I want you to hear it from me, too: I vow to be loyal to you and faithful, always—to me, you are the only woman I see, or will ever want; I vow to put you and our family before all else.”
He looked at her with a smile. “I have some more things I’m gonna promise after hearing yours. I vow to always give you my pickles.” Her grin was big and happy as she giggled. “I vow to always let you sing Freddie Mercury’s parts in Bohemian Rhapsody while I do the guitar solo, and I’ll always leave you the last piece of cheesecake because I love you and value my life.” That made her giggle harder. “I vow to try, the keyword here is try, to not, as you put it, ‘creepily watch you while you sleep,’ even though you’re guilty of the same thing.” Her giggles transformed into laughter. “I vow to always dance with you when we’re cleaning the house and in the kitchen while we cook together. I vow to pretend—I mean, agree that you’re the best driver in Laredo and always know your way around, even when you don’t.”
There was a reason he drove them the majority of the time.
“Rude!” she gasped. “I’m an amazing driver!”
“I agree, mi amor, you’re the best in Laredo.” He winked again, folded his paper, and put it back in his inner pocket. He spoke as he took off his reading glasses. “There’s one more thing I vow,” he said, putting the lenses away. His hands were free and he grabbed hers, ignoring the tissue clenched in one of her palms, and stared adoringly into her eyes. “I vow that years from now—decades—after our kids are grown, and we’ve retired, maybe we’ll be living in Florida like other retirees, or we’ll still be here where our family lives and we made our best memories; I vow that when we’re old and grey and can’t hear or see shit without hearing aids or glasses, that we’ll look back on our life together, and we’ll have no regrets.
“Zero,” he said.
“We did everything we wanted and lived the life we shared to the fullest, filled with love, happiness, and laughter.”
Her shoulders started to shake, and she had to let go of his hand to blot at her eyes.
“Javier!” she cried, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. “Why would you end with something so sweet?”
“Para que sepas cómo nuestro futuro será (So you know what our future together will be like). Quería que vieras que cuando me des ese anillo, te daré mi futuro y lo que venga después de eso (I wanted you to see that when you give me that ring, I’ll give you my future and whatever comes after that).”
She leaned back to look at him, and he was impressed that only her mascara had gotten messed up. She poked him in the chest and said, “That ring is going on your finger right this second.” Javier chuckled as her head turned to his dad. “Can we do the rings now, please?”
Chucho laughed. “Yes, Mija, you can do the rings. Who has them?” he asked aloud.
“Me!” Steve answered and moved to stand next to the older man, being careful not to bump Nate, who’d fallen asleep in the backpack carrier. At some point, the three-year-old Stevie had gone over to his mom and was now sitting in the grass next to her, eating Goldfish crackers out of a plastic baggy from the diaper bag near them. Steve untied the ribbon keeping the gold bands secured, then picked them both up, the pillow getting shoved under his arm. “Here, Jav.” Javier turned a little, holding out his palm to his friend, and her ring was set in it. He faced his bride again.
“At this time, they will exchange rings,” Chucho said, holding his bible in front of him with the notecard atop it. “Javier, go ahead and place it on her finger.” She looked adorably giddy, presenting her left hand to him, and he held it in his palm as he slid the band onto the finger with her engagement ring, pressing it against the other. “Now, repeat after me,” his dad said, reading his notes, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”
Javier’s eyes fastened onto hers, and he repeated what his father said: “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.” When he finished speaking, he lifted her hand to press his lips to the new addition on her finger with a kiss, keeping his gaze on her watery one.
“I love you,” she told him.
His thumb rubbed over the gold as he lowered her arm. “I love you, too.”
“Mija,” Chucho said, “it’s your turn.”
Javier held his hand out for her to take, and when she did, goosebumps rose on his skin, practically vibrating from anticipation. Her palm was smaller and softer than his, and he watched as Steve passed her the remaining ring. A big smile formed on his face at her not waiting for his father’s instruction, putting the band onto his finger immediately—it got stuck on his knuckle, and she had to wiggle it a little to finally slide it home.
“Repeat after me,” Chucho said, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”
She held his larger palm in both of her smaller ones, gazing into his eyes and smiling as she said, “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”
His breath hitched as he watched her raise his hand to kiss the band, his eyes burning with unshed tears.
His father started speaking to them, “Now that you’ve proclaimed your love for one another and exchanged rings as a seal of the promises you made today in front of these witnesses and myself, by the power vested in me by the great State of Texas, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife! Javier, you may now kiss your bride!”
There was clapping and hollering, someone patted his back, and Javier didn’t waste any time—he was told he could finally kiss this stunning woman in front of him, who he loved more than anything; she completed him and made him happy like no one else—ella es su vida (she is his life), su amor (his love), su media naranja (his soulmate), finalmente su esposa (finally his wife), his Cielito.
The fingers of one of his hands traced over the familiar line of her jaw, the other pulling her tight to his chest, finding the fabric of her dress was as buttery soft as he suspected. The sun had barely sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky fiery in its wake, and as it descended, so did Javier’s mouth onto hers, crushing his lips to hers. At the first touch, it felt like electricity was thrumming just below his skin, his heart racing, the press of her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck making tingles wash down his spine.
It was almost like he was kissing her for the first time, and it started out gentle, wanting to savor this moment with his wife—his wife—they were married. He was a husband and wearing a ring, the metal currently pressed to the warm skin of her cheek. His excitement got the better of him, and he deepened the kiss, licking in her mouth, her soft moan causing arousal to erupt in his belly, feeling blood begin to rush to his groin. She seemed to be just as ravenous as him, their tongues tangling and her hands gripping handfuls of his hair.
Javier didn’t think he could be happier than he was at this moment.
This was the best day of his entire fucking life.
He was a married man with an amazing wife and their lives were intertwined now, becoming one they both shared. What wound him up even more was her taking his last name—not in a possessive way, but because it was another thing they’d share, and Javier wanted to share everything with her. Name, life, home, things, children, all of it, he wanted to have and with her by his side.
His dad’s voice showed amusement when he heard him speak. “We’ll just let them get that out of their system.” People laughed. “It’s my great pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Peña!”
Mr. and Mrs. Peña.
Nothing sounded more perfect.
They hadn’t stopped kissing, too caught up in each other.
“Why are they trying to eat each other’s faces?” Olivia asked, clearly confused.
Steve shouted, “Cover her eyes, Connie!”
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a/n: The song she walked down the aisle to was "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac. The bible verse mentioned is Song of Solomon 8:6-7 (RSVCE).
Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!
#pedro pascal#javier peña#Javier Peña/reader#Javier Peña/you#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña fanfiction#wheresarizona writes#learning to live series
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midnights, 7 * mv1
the news is out: three time world champion, max verstappen, and his girlfriend of 6 years have been broken up since the singapore weekend.
pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader
warnings: -
notes: wow i took thE longest break from this
(series masterlist)
(prev) // (next)
max isn’t typically the type to let panic settle in. at least, that’s what he likes to think. he likes to tell people he’s not bothered but outsiders are always quick to catch up with his suppressed emotions.
alas, his worst fears have come true. news has broken that you’ve been broken up for almost 2 months.
he has not been able to talk about it with daniel, so he can only imagine how things will break down in austin.
he hopes that it’s not actually that big of a deal. plenty of other drivers have gotten themselves in messier breakups — the post doesn’t seem to touch on any speculations about how yours had come about. he can only bank on the hope that journalists are empathetic enough not to bring you up.
but you’ve been very involved in his career and the cameras on the paddocks. they never missed the chance to have you speak into a mic or have a private conversation with you.
pictures snapped of you together are never posted, but would be directly sent to either of you to truly encompass the privacy of your relationship. the respect shared between you and everyone on the paddocks was treasured, which is probably why your presence had been notable after you abruptly disappeared.
he sinks into his couch, phone in hand as he stares at the pictures that sparked up speculations. it’s a low-quality picture of you leaving the red bull home, head down as your hair shied you away from the camera. the second picture is of him coming out of the building, hair dishevelled as he stood with his arms folded over his chest.
“what do i do?” max mumbles, his finger swiping over the screen again and again, staring at the two pictures. as if it would change the course of things if he did it enough. “do i talk to her?”
“i don’t know, man,” daniel sighs, his face in the far corner of max’s screen. “i mean, the best you can do is to wait it out, right?”
“rumours could spread,” charles mutters, looking away briefly with his eyes widened. “if i were you, i’d want to do some damage control. but that’s probably just me.”
max sits back, staring at the empty half of his hotel bed. your absence is always noted when he’s all alone and he's too awake for his own good, once having the luxury of your company and bright smile making him feel giddy.
the difference between this breakup and all of charles' is that there is no controversy in this one. as far as he's concerned, this is all speculation from photos that are now circulating the internet and your obvious absence on race weekends.
nobody can even really confirm if it's true unless you or max say something. for now, they're just rumours. right?
unless you've started speaking to people, and gossip platforms. but you wouldn't do any of that, or at least that's what he's telling himself. but from what he can dig out of the grave in his brain, there was nothing that happened between you that can be twisted.
but what does he know?
he can only keep praying to the fact that you'll keep it as private as you usually do.
his phone is buzzing endlessly, his other friends sending him texts as the news shocks them as much as the world. lando is asking him if he's holding up fine, martin is expressing how he feels for max, and his own mother asking him why he hadn't told her earlier.
only victoria's message will be getting an answer. after all, she's the first person that found out.
"should i talk to her?" max thinks out loud, maximising the facetime call to get a good look at his friends' reactions. "she never does well with things like this, what if people are bothering her?"
charles' picture is overtaken by alexandra's face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. "you wanna talk to her?"
max shrugs. "i don't know. maybe?"
"would that be the best choice though?" daniel tilts his head. behind him, heidi is approaching cautiously with a small smile. "babe, what do you think?"
heidi shrugs as daniel's camera slowly turns to her. "my opinion is probably not - it's been two months. and judging by the comments that i read, i don't think there's much disrespect that has to be told off publicly."
alexandra nods as charles slowly comes back into the frame next to her. "it's up to you, max. as of right now, it doesn't seem that serious."
max sighs again, this time louder as he feels everything coming down on him. he drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. "i don't know, you guys," he sighs again loudly. "i just want to know if she's alright."
"maybe not now, mate," charles answers sympathetically, frowning at him through the camera.
"just wait it out. it could die down quicker than you think," daniel says hopefully.
max nods, now suddenly feeling disinterest in their conversation. he only craves to be by himself now. "alright, i'll catch you guys in a bit," his eyes turn to the cats sleeping peacefully on the cat tree, "i've got to feed the cats."
taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora @lokigoeschoki @avg-golden-retriever
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen fanfiction#max verstappen imagines#f1#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#disneyprincemuke midnights
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Jongho ღ NSFW Alphabet [M]
ღ Ateez - NSFW Alphabets
ღ Ateez Jongho x gn!reader
ღ words: ~3.1k
ღ genre: smut
ღ warnings: somewhat heavy dom-sub dynamics & mentions of degradation in some parts
Author’s note: Like half of these are totally not spoilers for my series that will be posted eventually…. hopefully……
A = Aftercare (what he’s like after sex)
He takes aftercare very seriously, especially when he’s taking on a more dominant role. Makes sure you have everything you need afterwards and in between, he’ll literally get you anything you could ask for. Has water ready at all times, will get you snacks, run you a bath, whatever you want. He’s very sweet and soft with you, quite in contrast to how he can get during sex if you want him to, and he’s very good at figuring out what you need even before you can ask for it once he’s properly gotten to know you.
B = Body part (his favorite body part of his partner)
It’s different for every partner of his, really. He’ll just one day find a tiny detail on your body, like a mole, a birthmark, a scar,... and he won’t be able to keep himself from brushing his fingertips against it everytime he gets the chance. He’s actually pretty big on body worship, so when the situation feels right he’ll make sure to tend to every single one of these spots that he keeps noticing while taking in the sight of you, making sure to convey to you how beautiful he thinks you are through his touches.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum)
Not the type to get messy usually but why does he like the thought of cumming all over you so much?? It just makes him go crazy to watch his own cum dripping down your body, like even he himself can’t fully grasp why it’s so hot to him but it just is. Now he doesn’t wanna get his own hands dirty, so he really likes to just marvel at you in that state, maybe gets some on his fingers just so he can watch you lick it off, and you bet he’ll be hard again in no time just from this. But the one thing that gets him going even more than cumming somewhere on your body is the thought of cumming all over your face…
D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret or secret desire of his)
His dirty secret are all the pictures he has of you on his phone - some of them sent by you, some of them he took himself. A video of you getting yourself off to things he’s texted you about, an audio of all the sounds you make when he’s fucking you,... over time he has quite the collection, and you both know if he ever loses his phone you’re fucked ksjflksa And of course he looks at the pictures etc. sometimes, but even just the knowledge only the two of you have of what kind of things he has stored on his phone is pretty hot to him.
E = Experience (how experienced is he?)
I don’t think he has a huge amount of experience, but he probably has some. Either way he’s good at picking up subtle cues, and he’s also more than willing to talk to you about what you want or don’t want, and so even if he hasn’t had many partners before, he’ll learn how to handle you pretty quickly.
F = Favorite position
I’d say he likes any position that gives him power over you, but I think his favourite might just be simple missionary? He is a softie deep down after all, so he just really likes how close he can feel to you in that position, but of course he also knows how to make it intense. Will have you wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks you slow, and makes sure not to make it boring for you. Likes having you pinned down when he’s on top of you, though sometimes even he merely feels the need to chase for his own high without giving it too much thought, and then he’ll be both grateful and very turned on if you offer him to use you to get off in whatever way he wants…
G = Goofy (is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous?)
He tends to be more on the serious side during sex, but embarrassing things happen, and it’s still better to laugh through the pain than to die on the spot, right? jsdklfjas Especially if he’s with a partner who’s not as experienced as him or who’s insecure, he’ll loosen up and be very soft and gentle as he guides you through the whole thing. Might crack a stupid joke during foreplay every now and then because we know he sometimes speaks without thinking first, resulting in a 50/50 chance of ruining the mood aksdjflksa even if he does ruin the mood a bit though, he’s quick to fix his own messes, so the dumb joke will soon be long forgotten :’)
H = Headspace (how much does he think about it/you during the day? how elaborate are his fantasies?)
Maybe he doesn’t think about it 24/7, but I do think he has dirty thoughts fairly often. They’re usually just a way to entertain himself quietly, and he’s good at keeping the filth at the back of his mind if he’s in a situation where he has to focus on something else instead. Will let his mind wander a bit if he’s bored during the day and there’s nothing better to do, but he’ll only really indulge when he knows he won’t be interrupted. Then he’ll definitely get off on his fantasies at the end of it, but will move on from it rather quickly afterwards.
I = Intimacy (how passionate or romantic is he?)
He’s fairly passionate I’d say, and that’s definitely part of the reason why he likes taking things slow. He’s just so very interested in seeing all the different reactions he can draw out of you, how you react to his touch and his words, and how he can control those reactions. And especially at times where he can let go and just enjoy the moment you’re going to feel the raw passion radiating off of him as you’re having sex. However, he can also get very romantic sometimes, to the point it’s almost cheesy, and that side of him will absolutely show if you two are simply making sweet love. He’s gonna take such good care of you and make sure you feel loved, that you can’t help but feel like you’re about to burst from warmth :((
J = Jack off (how does he masturbate and how often?)
He does it fairly often, but on most days it’s just a means to an end to get some relief after a long day. Quickly getting off in the shower is enough for him usually, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have days where he leans back at night, lets his mind wander or watches some porn and takes a bit more time to get himself off.
K = Kink (one of his kinks)
There’s a lot to talk about here, but what comes to mind first is degradation, mostly because this is linked to a lot of things he likes to do to you. Now, he’s only gonna really tap into this after discussing with you what’s okay and what’s not, but boi does he get off on this. Whether it’s teasing that barely even grazes the degradation aspect, or if he’s straight up telling you what a little whore you are - if he sees that you’re enjoying that kind of treatment he’ll go feral from it too. He especially enjoys showing you who’s in charge through gestures, pushing you around, spanking you, etcetc and then laughing at you for enjoying it this much. He will make you feel that you’re below him, and depending on where your boundaries are on this, he’s definitely willing to take this very far over time.
L = Location (favorite places to do it)
He prefers having sex in the comfort of your or his own home, and within that space he’s not too picky about where to do it. Any place goes if y’all are horny enough, but if it’s looking like it’s gonna be a long night he will definitely take you to the bedroom eventually, simply because it’s the most comfortable, and he’d hate for either of you to be sore from fucking on the table or the floor all night kasdjflks
M = Motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)
Knowing he has power over you, in whatever way, is his best motivation really. Even if it’s just the way he can tell immediately that you need him from a single look of yours, he will get cocky about it and more often than not it’ll put him in the mood too. Loves teasing you about it, and loves seeking out further proof even more. Whether that’s him using his strength against you, or if it’s the way he knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going. And you can bet he’s gonna keep his composure until he has you right where he wants you, begging for him to give you what you need. However, once you start praising him you can watch that whole facade come crashing down, revealing just how much he needs you too.
N = No (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He’d never do anything that could seriously hurt his partner. He is willing to try a lot of things, especially if it puts him in a dominant role where he’s the one taking care of you - he definitely enjoys inflicting some degree of pain onto his partner, but he’ll immediately opt out if you ask him to try something that might get dangerous. He’s just not willing to take that kind of risk. Might give in eventually if you keep begging for it and do the thing once for your sake, but he won’t really enjoy it.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Likes receiving a lot more than giving. That said, if you’re his first partner he’s ever giving oral to he will be a bit clumsy about it at first, but gets the hang of it quickly and isn’t half bad at it in the end. And though he’s not the biggest fan of giving head he’ll sometimes have days where he just NEEDS to taste you and then he usually ends up getting pretty drunk on it?? But overall he likes receiving more, even just watching you with his dick in your mouth makes him sooo horny, and yet he has enough self control to make sure he lasts for quite some time. At times he’ll simply watch and let you do whatever you want, while making sure to praise you in between. Other times he’ll guide you exactly into the pace he wants, controlling every single one of your movements, or even taking matters into his own hands and having you hold still while he fucks your mouth.
P = Pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
I think he’s more on the slow side most of the time, both to savour the moment and as a way to tease you and to make you want more. Though there are times where he’s going to fuck you fast and hard, usually his every move is deliberate and anything but rushed. Slow but rough is the combination he’s going to make you lose your mind with, he’s not going to overwhelm you with sensory input but instead let you take in every single touch he gives you and every single word he speaks properly, and once this guy has you figured out he sure knows how to make you cum from the bare minimum.
Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies?)
Hell yeah. Not every day of course, he’s the type who likes to take his time to make sure both he and his partner are fully satisfied after sex and have a good time after all, but sometimes a quickie in between is more than tempting. Then he’ll take you by the hand and pull you off to somewhere you can be alone, and though you already know what’s coming, it’ll still take you by surprise how quick his lips are on yours after locking up the door behind himself. Loves bending you over any somewhat suitable surface and making sure to get off the both of you in record time.
R = Risk (does he like to experiment or take risks?)
He does like experimenting, but will refuse to take a risk he can’t calculate, unless it’s something where his partner takes full responsibility and he knows he can trust them with it. For this reason he’s usually not the type to enjoy public or semi-public sex, though there’s exceptions, like if he knows people won’t hear you from the other room so long as you stay quiet, etc…. now if he’s drunk this changes a little bit, he still won’t do anything that could seriously hurt you, but suddenly the idea of his or your friends “accidentally” hearing how good he can fuck you doesn’t seem so bad anymore…
S = Stamina (how long does he last?)
He lasts pretty long when he’s managing his energies, otherwise just average I’d say? Can definitely go several rounds on a day where he’s prepared for it!
T = Toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)
Toys can be very practical, of course he has some ksadjflksa will use them on himself to masturbate if he’s too lazy to work for it himself, and he definitely enjoys using them on a partner. Whether they’re things like handcuffs to tie you up, or any sort of toy to stimulate you, he’s all for whatever you enjoy. If it’s about what kind of toys he’d want a partner to use on him, I think he’d be a lot pickier, like even when you switch roles and you’re the one in control there is just no way in hell this guy will let you tie him up ksadjfkls he won’t be opposed to you using toys on him to get him off though!
U = Unfair (how much he likes to tease)
He loves teasing you, loves riling you up and always being a step ahead of you as he does. You can’t trick him, but he will trick you, and depending on how much you’re willing to take he’ll find great amusement in leaving you absolutely desperate. Whispering dirty things in your ear as you’re out together with several hours to go until you can go home just seems like a lot of fun to him, so does texting you random dirty messages during the day. He will always stay respectful to the point that he won’t interrupt you during any important events though, and if you tell him he overstepped a line he’ll always immediately take things a step back. But so long as you’re okay with it too he just lives off of teasing the shit out of you - and of course he’s more than ready to deal with the aftermath and to make sure he’ll give you what you need at the end of the day.
V = Volume (how loud or vocal is he? what does he sound like?)
He’s not loud but very vocal. Tends to talk to you a lot during, especially if he’s the one in charge. Will tease you, tell you what to do or what not to do, praises you, and also tends to check in on you a lot. Definitely the type to get vocal when you’re pleasing him and especially as he’s nearing his own high, and this can range from stifled groans to the prettiest moans you’ve ever heard. He will whine if the focus is on his pleasure, but it definitely takes some work from your side to make him let go enough for him to do it without being embarrassed about it.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon)
His hand teasing you where you need it the most makes you let out a shaky whine, and you don’t miss the short laugh he lets out as you lean against his body, your back pressed up against his chest. He’s holding you in place, the other hand loosely wrapped around your throat, fingertips feeling your pulse.
“You’re that excited from just this?” Jongho asks, the tone of his voice making you shiver. “Cute.” He spits out the last word, as if he’d have rather called you pathetic instead. When he takes away his hands you whimper in protest, but he doesn’t give you much time to be upset as he places one of his palms on the small of your back instead, the other hand wrapping around his cock. “Bend over.” He gives you a little push towards the table in front of you, and as you lie your upper body down flat, you mewl,
“Yes sir.” A hand flies to your ass, the impact drawing a broken moan from your lips.
“That’s my good little fucktoy,” he praises, before he aligns himself with you and pushes inside, starting to fuck you from behind at a pace so painfully slow, he has you begging for more in no time.
X = (X) as a mark (does he like marking you/being marked? where?)
Marking isn’t something he does very often, though he enjoys it sometimes. Likes to mark you in places he knows only he will see, and then brush his fingers against the fabric of your clothes later on where the mark is located, kind of as a reminder that you’re his. He also sometimes likes having you mark him, but won’t allow it where he can’t hide it. Ends up really enjoying the feeling of it though, and might even have you mark him more often from then on.
Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)
A mess is what his sex drive is kasdjfklas like, he’ll have phases where he could go every day, multiple times, and then followed by a week or two where he won’t even think about having sex with you?? It really depends heavily on his mood, though I think it’s fairly easy to get him in the mood if you’re craving sex but he isn’t.
Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)
The type who could just black out immediately after y’all are done, I’m so sorry fkldasöfajs Most of the time he won’t though, and especially if there’s a need for aftercare he’ll make sure to do that properly!! But yeah, if the situation allows for it he’ll be knocked out asap :’)
#ateez smut#ateez x reader#jongho smut#jongho x reader#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#ateez scenarios#ateez drabbles#jongho imagines#smut
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𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.
pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader
a cursed mortal, a lonesome Dream Lord, and a story spanning one thousand years.
content warnings: angst, slowburn/slowbuild, mutual pining, dream being dream.
⏳ playlist | corinthian & wanderer playlist | pinterest board | inspo tag & asks | ao3 |
🌙 CHAPTER INDEX
YEAR 0-200
YEAR 200-300
YEAR 304
YEAR 304-521
YEAR 522
YEAR 522-619
YEAR 619-850
YEAR 916-994
YEAR 1021 I
YEAR 1021 II
BEYOND.
➥ BONUS CONTENT:
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ONE SHOTS:
inside of you, in spite of you ⋅⋆ ── [the corinthian-centric one shot, coming soon]
midas touch ⋅⋆ ── [dream & wanderer smut, coming soon]
dreamfalling into nightmares ⋅⋆ ── [corinthian & wanderer, dreamfall]
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ DRABBLES/BLURBS:
"I wonder what I look like in your eyes."
"I broke my rules for you."
“My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own.”
“You were worth the wait.”
"If I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop."
“I don’t think you understand the… effect you have on me.”
when wanderer met destruction
goodbye, stardust.
s t a y.
"lady dream."
currently accepting headcanon/drabble requests and discussions for this series, feel free to send something in!
P.S. I do not do tag lists, if you want to keep up with this fic, please bookmark this post or follow me directly, thank you.
#the sandman#dream x reader#morpheus x reader#dream of the endless#now i know peace because it's all in one place.#fic: today i bury you in me
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A Nap With Terzo
~ A special edition of Naps With Copia ~
This was for an Anon that was having a tough time with their finals and wanted a comforting nap with Terzo 💙 (sorry this took forever!)
Terzo x gn!reader
The naps are all stand alone stories so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft naps.
Warnings: none, just Terzo being a little silly, sfw, 800 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)
No one else got to see him like this.
Well, maybe his ghouls did. Spending months together packed into a tour bus allowed you to see the best and worst of everyone. You had heard plenty of stories of the things the band and crew would get up to. To be honest some stories you wished you could forget. Although knowing why Alpha was strongly discouraged from coming back to Albuquerque, New Mexico did give you good blackmail material.
Moments like this though were something rare to see. The Siblings were used to Papa Emeritus III and his ways. They had spent years watching him on stage and at the pulpit. Both were performances for your Papa. Both showed a side of him that he had spent years honing to perfection. The boisterous and carefree Papa that was quick to tease and even quicker to flirt. But right now, tucked away in your bed and softly snoring…
This was your Papa.
“I need to get up soon.”
“Hush. You need rest, Terzo.”
“Eh, I’m fine.” His body betrayed him, his jaw immediately opening in a wide yawn. When he caught your smirk he huffed, rolling his eyes as he turned the other way. “Imperator will be looking for me. So she can nitpick how each ritual went.”
“Don’t worry about her.” Terzo turned his head, his eyebrow raised in question as he peered at you. “She has her hands full.”
“Oh?” You laughed when he quickly spun around, his arms snaking around your waist to bring you in close. “Do tell, amore.”
“Your brothers promised to keep her attention until the morning.”
“Sounds ominous.”
He ducked his head, hiding his face in your neck. Terzo always got shy when his brothers helped him. Like the notion of a family acting like family was still foreign to him. You dropped a kiss onto his head and gently started carding your fingers through his hair.
“Secondo assured me no one would get hurt.”
“Bene.” He pressed a few kisses of his own into your skin before pulling away, a soft smile on his face. “What shall we do with all that time, hmm?”
His attempt at wiggling his eyebrows failed as he started yawning again. He groaned when he was done, flinging himself onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes.
“I think a nap is the only thing you need to focus on right now.”
“But amore, that’s so boring!” You obliged him when he tugged you close. “I’d rather be kissing you.”
“We can kiss after a nap.”
“We can kiss before one too.”
He leaned in and planted a noisy smooch on your cheek, his lips then traveling down to your chin and over to your ear. When his teeth gently nibbled at the lobe you squealed and tried to move away but his arms remained tight around you.
“Terzo! Stop, stop!” The bastard just laughed, continuing to attack you with his lips and teeth. “Ah! Papa, I will call Imperator, I swear to Satan.”
With a huff he pulled away, although he kept his arms tight around you. When you noticed his pout you couldn’t help but giggle and lean in to kiss him. The man was infuriatingly irresistible even when he was driving you crazy.
“Fine, fine. Ruin my fun.” The pouting continued, even when you kissed him again. “Here I am, thinking you would have missed me after all these months. Missed my touch and my kisses. I guess I was wrong.”
“Don’t be such a baby!” You nipped at his full bottom lip this time, pulling it between your teeth to sooth it with your tongue briefly before leaning away. “Terzo, I promise that if you are very very good and take a nice long nap we can have some fun after. Okay?”
His face brightened and he snuggled closer, his hands traveling up and down your back possessively.
“You promise, amore?”
“I promise.”
His bright smile was beautiful, as was everything else about him. You had to kiss him again, a soft one that you reserved for quiet moments like this. He pulled away, still smiling, and reached up to cup your cheek.
“Then we better get started, eh? The sooner we wake up the sooner we can have some of that fun you’ve promised me.”
You snorted while you settled yourself more comfortably against him. Resting your head on his shoulder and one hand on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath it, a reminder that he was here with you again. Terzo’s breathing was evening out and you soon heard the soft snores he insisted he never did. You closed your eyes and focused on falling asleep yourself, wanting to get some rest along with your Papa.
You wanted the fun to start soon too.
~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~
If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙
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hello! may i say i absolutely love your writing??? so i thought i’d request something :) aaron is readers first actual relationship (like her first serious one?) and her family dynamics have been difficult while growing up (absent father, not a really close relationship with her mother, she always felt like more of a flatmate to her yk?), so she hasn’t experienced what it feels like to be truly loved and wanted and aaron has given her that, which makes their relationship even more special and important to her. he’s basically the only person she fully trusts and vice versa. when they get into their first big fight, she gets overwhelmed and is afraid he’s going leave her and thinks things like “i knew this was too good to be true” etc. of course, they make up and aaron comforts her and assures her he’ll never leave her.
if this is something you don’t want to write, that’s totally fine!!! 🫶🏼
Thank you, sweet nonny, for your kind words and the request 🥹 And sorry this took me so long to post!! I hope you don't mind I tweaked a bit to play more on reader's anxiety than the fight aspect- I hope this is what you were looking for 🖤
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader (angsty angst + hurt/comfort)
—————
Stupid, you chastise yourself for the umpteenth time as the apartment door closes behind your partner. Evidently he’s taken all the air in the room with him because your lungs can’t seem to find any oxygen to breathe in. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. What did you think was going to happen?
Rather than staring at the closed door in the vain hope that Aaron will walk back through it, you scrub your hands over your face and head down the hall to his bedroom. You stand on your tiptoes to reach your duffel bag in the closet that’s been sitting on a shelf since he first insisted you keep some things at his apartment. Maybe if you just give him space and then apologize, he won’t leave. After your dad walked out, that strategy had worked on most of your mother’s relationships, however short-lived they happened to be.
Your heart breaks at the thought of losing Aaron over something so seemingly trivial. Why hadn't you fought harder, spoken with more confidence in your voice? Why couldn’t you just let it go?
You had planned a quiet dinner at Aaron’s place to celebrate six months of absolute bliss together. All you had told him last week was there would be a surprise waiting for him at home, courtesy of the shiny new key on your ring you had yet to use. You spent the evening cooking the recipe that you had been buying ingredients for when you bumped into him at the grocery store, a smile on your face while the memory replayed in your head. As the clock neared seven, you left the food in the oven to stay warm and went about setting the table, complete with fresh flowers, candles, and Aaron’s favorite red wine. Music played softly in the background, a series of songs you put together that reminded you of your boyfriend that he was never allowed to find out about. You gave the sauce simmering on the stove another taste test, smacking your lips together before adding another pinch of oregano.
Then, you fired off a quick Can’t wait to see you soon! text to your boyfriend and settled down on the couch with your book to wait for his arrival from Quantico.
You waited… and waited, and checked your phone, and waited some more. As the minutes ticked by and the smile on your face faltered, you reasoned with a sigh that the BAU had probably gotten a case, and he was busy briefing the team before heading halfway across the country. You were no stranger to receiving a text or call from the jet, an apology for the untimely case and promise to make it up to you as soon as he was home.
But this radio silence felt different, and you released your bottom lip from its cage beneath your teeth with a quiet hiss when the familiar metallic taste of your anxiety getting the better of you touched your tongue. A thousand and one scenarios flew through your mind, possibilities of Aaron being hurt in the field or succumbing to another one of those fainting spells that his teammate and friend, Dave, had once warned you about.
Or maybe, just maybe, he had grown tired of you and was trying to figure out how to break things off.
Reaching the six month mark was a new milestone for you in a relationship. Most of your other relationships, if you could even call them that, didn’t make it past the third date. Aaron could probably profile you in his sleep, tell you that the absence of your father in your life and your strained relationship with your mother made it hard for you to recognize genuine connection. That you were a serial people pleaser, even at the expense of your own health and wellbeing, convinced that if you said and did all the right things, you would be worthy of people’s attention, time, and affection.
Hell, the person who cut in front of you in line for coffee could probably tell that about you by the way you insisted they go ahead first.
As the digital clock on the stove flickered to 10:00, your nerves over Aaron’s welfare outcompeted your guilt over bothering him at work. You unlocked your phone to find your earlier text to him delivered but unread, and pressed his contact picture to place the call. He picked up on the third ring, and you released a sigh of relief until he answered with an easy, “Hi, honey, how are you?”
Confusion muddled your features, but you kept your voice even as you answered, “Fine, my love. You got a new case?”
“Luckily no, and I’m so sorry I didn’t respond to your text earlier. I just got caught up trying to finish this report so I don’t have to work this weekend while we…” He trailed off with a quiet curse before coming back on the line. “Baby,” he breathed out, a heavy sigh laced with regret. “We were supposed to celebrate tonight, weren’t we?”
“It’s okay,” you offered immediately, not really answering his question as your gaze flicked up to the wax dripping down the half-eroded candles.
“No,” he responded firmly, and you could hear the distinct shuffling of papers in the background. “It’s not okay. It’s late, so there shouldn’t be traffic now. I’ll be home in twenty.”
You had spent those twenty minutes cleaning up the kitchen and convincing yourself that you weren’t really upset, just worried that he hadn’t eaten all day or taken proper care of himself. Then you changed out of your dress, opting instead for sweatpants and one of Aaron's old law school shirts to appear as casual as possible. By the time you heard his key in the lock, you were ready to meet him at the door with a smile.
“Hi, baby,” you purred in greeting, cupping Aaron's face in your hands and drawing him down for a sweet kiss. He practically melted into your touch, pressing his lips to yours between words of apology. “It’s okay, really,” you answered easily with a shrug. “We can just have what I made tomorrow!”
Aaron’s mouth turned downward at that, and you immediately criticized yourself for mentioning the meal at all. “Sweetheart-”
“Aar, baby, it was nothing,” you attempted to laugh it off, but his brows furrowed even deeper at your insistence.
“Why aren’t you upset? You should be upset.”
“Why?” you challenged in return, smoothing your hands along his arms even as your fear that he was trying to push you away reared its ugly head. “I know how difficult your job is. I don’t expect you to remember every little thing we talk about.”
“Y/N, no.” His voice was firm as he gripped your shoulders and dipped his head down to meet your gaze. “This wasn’t a little thing. Just… give me a minute and then we’ll talk.”
And now, here you are, hastily packing your bag and trying to make your escape before he returns to avoid having that dreaded conversation. The trite It's not you, it’s me and It’s for the best and You should be someone’s priority. Aaron had already sighed out the classic You deserve better before walking out the door.
You jump in surprise at the sound of Aaron’s voice rumbling over to you from the bedroom doorway. “Are we going somewhere?”
You look up at him and his heart breaks at the way your eyes are glistening in the dim light. “I thought I should spend a few days at my place. Give you some space to breathe.” And save you the hard part of saying we shouldn’t be together anymore.
His bags fall to the floor unceremoniously, and Aaron crosses the room in two short strides to cup your face in his hands, brows furrowed, eyes searching yours. “Why would I ever want to be apart from you when I don’t have to be?”
You gape at him in disbelief. “You don’t want me to leave?”
His answer is firm, resolute, a simple, “No.”
“And you’re not leaving me?”
“Absolutely not.” He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you down beside him, tucking you into his broad chest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear when I left. I just went to get my things from the car, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry for assuming the worst,” you whisper. Your voice is so small and fragile, and Aaron tightens his hold on you. “I just thought…”
“You’re used to people not sticking around?” You nod, his starched shirt brushing against your cheek with the movement.
Aaron pulls back a bit to tilt your chin up, his gaze soft yet determined as he looks into your eyes. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. You understand?” You nod again, and he dots kisses all over your face until your mouth turns up in a genuine smile. “You-” He takes a deep breath and pulls your hand into his lap, running his thumb over your knuckles before continuing, “You have made my life- and Jack’s- infinitely better, and I can’t picture our family without you now.”
You lift your joined hands to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand. Then, hesitantly, you ask, “Aaron?”
“Hm?”
“Why did you get upset about me not getting upset?”
“Because you deserve the world, angel,” he answers firmly. “And you deserve better than the bullshit I pulled tonight. And…” He trails off, and you can feel the tension mounting in the rise of his shoulders. Placing your hand on his taut muscles, you rub it back and forth in a soothing pattern until he releases a breath and admits, “It reminded me of my marriage, when things started falling apart before the divorce. Haley had gotten so used to my absence or making work a priority that she would just excuse things. First it was little things, like not answering a text for hours.”
“Huh, you don’t say,” you interject, and Aaron’s gaze cuts over to you to find a cheeky smile on your face.
He nudges your shoulder with his own, muttering an apology before continuing, “Then it was bigger things. Holidays and trips and back to school nights. I even- I missed Jack’s first steps, y’know that? I was on a case, halfway across the country, and I didn’t see the video she sent me until days later.”
“Aaron,” you sigh, now tucking him into your chest. “Do you know what Jack’s going to remember? That you were always there when it counted. He’s going to remember the night you went out in the rain to find his special Darth Vader suit for Halloween, and the countless hours you and Dave put in to coach his soccer team to the championship, and the blanket forts and movie nights and walks in the park with ice cream dripping down our wrists until it’s an unsalvageable mess. You’re his hero, you big dummy.”
Aaron shifts until his head is in your lap, looking up at you with a small smile and glistening eyes. “How did we get here?”
“You gave me a key to your apartment and then missed our anniversary dinner.”
“Thank you, you sassy little thing.” He playfully tugs at your hair falling down from your shoulders and framing his face. “I mean, I was supposed to be apologizing and groveling at your feet for my transgressions, but here you are comforting me instead. You really do-”
“If you say deserve better, I’m going to beat you up, Aaron,” you threaten, although the smile on your face says otherwise.
He mimes zipping his lips, then twists his wrist around to glance at his watch. “It’s still our six month anniversary for another hour or so, and the apartment smells divine. You up for a late night meal?”
Leaning down, you nuzzle your nose against his before answering, “Deal. But I’m sitting pretty at the table and you’re serving me, Hotchner.”
“In just an apron and nothing else underneath?”
“Oh, hell yes,” you squeal in delight. “You’re in trouble now, baby. I’m going to milk this for all it’s worth.”
“As you should, my love. As you should.”
__________
AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies
#this is unfortunately how my brain works#ow my feelings#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotch x female reader#hotch x you#hotch x reader#hotch x y/n#hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x you#hotch imagine#hotch#ssa aaron hotchner#criminal minds fic#criminal minds imagine#reader request#angst and hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort#angst with comfort
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own terms
Summary:
“We have to tell ‘em soon.”
Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.”
Warnings: gender dysphoria, unplanned pregnancy
Word count: 1494
hi hello this is kinda part 6.5/7 of that comic series I’ve been posting. I have lotsa thoughts abt a lot of other points in this timeline but this is the only other one I’ve done something with oops.
“We have to tell ‘em soon.”
Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.”
Luffy sighed, flopping to the foot of their bed with his head in his hands. “That’s what I’m saying,” he reasoned. “I think it’s been as long as possible.”
Law rolled his eyes at his husband. “Well, you think wrong,” he insisted, freeing an oversized black hoodie from his dresser. He pulled it on and observed himself in the mirror. “I’m hardly showing, and I have plenty of clothes like this.” He nodded, satisfied with the way the fabric swallowed him. “Honestly I may be able to conceal the whole thing without even using my powers,” this part was muttered to himself.
”Why though?!” Luffy whined. “My crew knows!”
“And I wish they didn’t!” If looks could kill, Law would have been guilty of mariticide and, in this moment, he didn’t even think he’d regret it. “Do we have to go through this again? I don’t want my crew to know I’m pregnant. It’s bad enough that Bepo made me tell Penguin and Shachi.”
“Why’s it bad that your brothers know we’re having a baby?” The irritation in the Pirate King’s voice was becoming increasingly familiar to Law, it’d been weeks of this conversation and he was, quite frankly, sick of it.
“I can’t believe you keep making me have this conversation,” Law sat at his desk and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “At this point it’s just insensitive.”
“Did you forget we’re pirates, Torao?”
This was a new talking point. Law quirked an eyebrow. “And that means you can be insensitive?”
”I mean, kinda? – But wait, that's not the point,” Luffy sighed heavily, speaking slowly like he was explaining something to a child. “Your crew should know the kind of coverage you need.”
Law shot to his feet. “You’ve proven my point,” he said sternly. “I don’t need additional cover. I’m just as capable as I’ve always been.”
”Torao—“
“I’m not having this conversation again.” He waved his hand dismissively and swiftly sent himself to the deck of his ship.
Left behind, Luffy let himself indulge in a long, frustrated groan.
—-
“You don’t understand,” Usopp implored. “If I were in his shoes I’d be sensitive about it too, okay?”
Luffy crossed his legs on top of the crate he was perched on in Usopp and Franky’s workshop. “But he’s always so…I dunno…practical,” he sighed. “And not telling your crew — y’know, the ones you fight with — that you’re fucking pregnant is totally not practical!”
“I dunno, dude,” Franky offered from his work bench. “You sure that’s why you’re so hung up on this?”
Luffy’s face scrunched up at the question. “What else would it be about?”
Franky lifted his welding mask and shared a knowing look with Usopp. They nodded back and forth and whatever nonverbal conversation they were having led to Franky sighing. “Okay, okay. Think about it. When’s the last time you ever saw anyone land a hit on Traffy?”
That was a tough question to answer. Truthfully, most pirates wouldn’t touch the pirate king or his consort. The new World Government still required levels and levels of approvals to engage with either of them, and even then it’s not like Koby would grant that approval unless a lot of things had suddenly changed.
”Doesn’t matter,” Luffy decided.
“Exactly,” Franky continued. “Now tell me, why else would you want the Hearts to know?”
Another tough one. What other reason could there be?
”They were the last ones to know about you two being together,” Usopp added helpfully. Franky cleared his throat, clearly he’d wanted Luffy to get to that fact on his own. Usopp shrunk into himself sheepishly in apology.
“Yeah, I still don’t get why Torao was so embarrassed,” Luffy muttered, paying no mind to his friends' silent exchange.
”And how’d it feel knowing he was embarrassed?” Franky encouraged.
”…I…” Luffy looked down at his hands in his lap. “…Didn’t like it.”
”Bingo!” Usopp cheered. “But it wasn’t that he was embarrassed of you, was he?”
Having finally caught up to the conversation, Luffy rolled his eyes. “No,” he whined. “He’s insecure.”
“Exactly!”
”But he’s not like that anymore!”
“And this isn’t the same situation as before,” Usopp insisted. “You’re asking a trans guy to walk into a room full of people and say ‘hey everyone, I have a uterus!’”
”But they’re his nakama! And everyone knows Ikakku’s trans and it’s not like anyone’s ever been stupid about it,” Luffy pouted.
“No one’s gonna be stupid about it,” the sniper agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t subconsciously change parts of how they interact with him, even if it’s only while he’s pregnant.” Usopp huffed a laugh. “Even if he weren’t a guy I’d think someone like Traffy’d want to keep it under wraps. When Kaya was pregnant tons of randos wanted to touch her belly all the time. It’s fuckin’ weird.”
“…Torao does hate it when people touch him,” Luffy muttered.
“And Ikakku talks about being trans, those are conversations she chose to have. I get to talk about it if I feel like it, like only when I'm comfortable enough to. I’ll bet Traffy hates not having a say in the matter,” Usopp sighed in empathy.
Luffy straightened up at that realization and a momentary silence fell over the trio.
Franky cleared his throat. “Just keep an eye on him if anyone’s dumb enough to fight us,” he said in summation. “He’s his own captain. Let him handle his crew.”
He hated to admit it, but Luffy knew he was right. He offered a grunt of acknowledgement and nothing else.
—
Luffy returned to the captain’s quarters of the Polar Two greeted by the sounds of his husband emptying his stomach in the en-suite bathroom. It wasn’t an uncommon state to find him in these days, but it certainly didn’t make it any better. He made his way to the ajar door and poked his head in. Law sat on the floor, forehead resting on his arm that was slung across the toilet. Upon noticing his company, he shot his husband a glare.
”Lunch taking revenge?” Luffy offered light-heartedly.
Law held his glare for a moment longer before allowing his face to soften slightly. “What else is new,” he grumbled, looking away. He decided his stomach was settling enough to relocate so he flushed the toilet and moved to get to his feet. Luffy was there in a flash, gently taking his arm.
”I don’t need any help,” Law sighed, pulling his arm back and reaching for his toothbrush. Luffy hovered, waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth before he spoke.
”I’m sorry,” he offered, hanging back in the doorframe of the bathroom while Law went to sit at his desk.
“Are you now?” Law cracked open a book, pulled a few pages of loose leaf from a precarious pile on the desk, and started to scribble on them.
“Yeah,” he replied, tentatively crossing the room to stand behind his husband. “Usopp and Franky reminded me that when you didn’t tell your crew we were together it wasn’t ‘cause you were embarrassed to be with me.”
Law placed his pen flat on his desk. “…That’s what this has been about?”
Luffy wrapped his arms around the other captain’s shoulders and nuzzled into his hair. “Maybe.”
They stayed like that in silence for a few long moments.
”I’m not embarrassed to be having your baby,” Law muttered after a while.
”I know.”
“I’m embarrassed to be having a baby period.”
“I know.”
“I’m certainly not embarrassed of her.”
“I know.”
”And I’m their captain,” Law continued. “I don’t want them thinking I’m less capable because…”
”They’d never think you’re not capable. They may be more protective though, and I get that you don’t want that.”
Law nodded. “…Yes,” he agreed, leaning back into his husband’s embrace.
“But if someone’s dumb enough to come after us, you can’t do anything stupid okay?”
That earned a hearty laugh. “Look who’s talking,” Law chuckled, looking up into Luffy’s eyes.
“I mean it!” Luffy insisted. “You’re super strong. But…” He let his hand travel down to rest protectively on the front pocket of Law’s hoodie.
“I know,” Law whispered. “If I’m being honest, I have been thinking about your point. It’d be…practical for them to know.”
Luffy grinned at that. “And you do love practical.”
Law nodded pensively.
“Anyway, you tell ‘em when you’re ready. I’ll get off your ass about it.” In one swift motion Luffy hooked an arm under his husband’s legs and whisked him out of his chair bridal style.
“Excuse me,” Law protested. “I have work to do!”
“Yeah, I got stuff to do too!” the other captain laughed, turning on his heel to close the short distance to their bed.
#my art#lawlu#lulaw#law x luffy#luffy x law#cw dysphoria#cw unplanned pregnancy#u can spot the part that's the most overt bit of all of this that i was mad abt being visibly trans when i did all these lmao#and yes i have put my grubby lil trans hands all over these characters#usopp? trans. ikakku? trans. sanji? definitely some flavor of trans
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better than revenge | alt chapter: one last cigarette
Toxic!Ex!Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader
Chapter summary: Just when you were ready to leave the past behind, the very person you're trying to escape shows up. 949 words.
Author’s note: Final upload for this series! Wrote this back in March, but it took me forever to post because it's hard to officially say goodbye to the series but here we are.
This chapter is not canon. The main story line officially ended with the previous chapter. This one is just an alternate ending I wrote when I was trying to figure out what to do with Mattheo’s story arc and I like how it turned out. Ex!Mattheo isn’t very popular in this story and for good reason. In the end, I couldn’t write this ending without him being toxic!Mattheo so be warned.
This chapter contains angst and a bit of angry sex so 18+ only below the cut. It was hard writing this because the tone has been mostly fluff, but you can’t really have an ex!story without the heartbreak.
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A rude awakening
A/N: This is the final flashback with yours and Mattheo’s story.
“I love you, Mattheo,” I whisper against his ear as the first rays of sunlight filter through the window.
Mattheo wonders what he did to deserve her affection. Breathing here in between slumber and the waking world, his defenses dwindle. The thoughts he long kept at bay claws its way to the surface.
He is the dark lord’s son. He was always fated to ruin everything and everyone he loved. If he didn’t hurt her now, he would in the future.
It was easier, kinder even, to let her go now.
So he did what he knew best.
The last cigarette
A/N: Timeline wise, this takes place before chapter seven. In this alt timeline, you and Enzo never attend the ball.
I inhale the cigarette smoke, letting it fill my lungs, and exhale. One last cigarette for Mattheo. Once I snuff it out, I’m letting him go.
A week after we broke up, grief came in waves. I’d do well in class and get excited to show Mattheo before I remember I no longer could. I’d see his favorite food at the Great Hall and turn, but he wasn’t beside me. I’d snuggle in bed and wait for him to climb in, but he no longer did. How did I keep forgetting?
How did I keep remembering?
I remembered one evening how smoking helped him relax. Maybe it could help me too.
All it did was make me smell like him and I clung on because it was the closest I could get to him.
But here, now, one last smoke then I'll let him go. I inhale and think of twinkling night skies, when Mattheo and I pretended we were floating among the stars. The way they reflected his eyes.
I remember hot chocolate and croissants, snuggling by the fireplace. He complained about my chocolate flavored kisses. Deep down, I knew he loved them.
I recall his fire. Hair pulling, lips crashing, back scratching. The way his touch seared my soul.
And it was good for a while. I exhale and watch it all drift away in the night wind.
I inhale and recall that night. Begging him to stay, to talk to me, we could work it out. Instead he said he got bored. Instead he kissed her.
And oh. Love really did leave you hollow when it left. I exhale and watch the smoke disappear.
I inhale and—
“I thought you liked your lungs?” Mattheo asks, approaching me.
“Don’t talk to me like you know me.”
He stands beside me, eyes searching my face. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“It’s a little too late now, isn’t it? What the fuck, Mattheo? I’m with Enzo and suddenly you care about me?”
“I’ve always cared, please—” he tries.
“You had three weeks to find me, Mattheo. To apologize. But you didn’t. I’m not some trophy you can take from Enzo just so you can score another point against him!”
He recoils, hurt in his eyes. “Do you really think that little of me?”
“Have you forgotten what you’ve done?” I ask.
“If I could take it back, I would.”
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” I accuse him.
“What do you want me to say?” He asks, exasperated. “I’m an idiot! I messed up. I never felt like I was good enough for you.”
“No Matty, you don’t understand,” I point to him, a tear escaping. “You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough!”
My tears spill and his eyes water. He pulls me in his arms as I sob.
“You don’t get to hurt me and cry as if you’re the victim,” I say.
“Angel, please, I didn’t mean to” he shifts so he can look into my eyes and wipe my tears. “If words are not enough,” he kisses me.
My lips are electrified, everything inside me burning. Needing, hating, mourning. I want to scream, instead I suck his lower lip hard enough to bruise and grip his hair. It earns me a grunt as he hauls my body to his, closing the gap between us.
His hand trails down my waist to press me where he needs me most. Moving against each other, friction and heat sparking embers within. And it’s still not enough.
Without leaving my lips, Mattheo turns us around. Hands locked around his neck, eyes closed, I follow his footsteps until I feel the wall behind me. His hand snakes under my skirt, caressing my thigh. A filthy moan leaves my mouth—begging, praying, craving. More.
He moves his finger where I’m most sensitive and I gasp, breaking our kiss. He brings his mouth to my ear, “I’ll show you just how sorry I am.” With his free hand, he tugs my hair until I’m staring at the stars, and runs his tongue from the base of my throat to my chin.
Muscle memory takes over as his fingers slide across my folds, knowing just where I needed him. My breathing gets ragged when he fills me up with his fingers, exploiting all the ways he can make me moan and whimper. “Fuck. I missed you, angel.”
I ride his fingers, hating his stupid voice and his messy hair.
He bites my neck, leaving marks and I hate his filthy mouth.
He moves relentlessly. I hate his eyes. I hate his hands. I hate his voice.
I burn until I’m overcome with white hot rage, coming undone for him. Shockwaves of pleasure writhe through me as he presses me for all I have.
A second before afterglow, in the quiet darkness, I hate myself most because I still love him.
“Come on angel, I’m not done apologizing,” he says, taking my hand, leading me to my dorm.
I never get to finish my cigarette.
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A/N: If there was a quote for you and Mattheo in this series, exploring your past relationship, it would be:
"The love was there. It didn't change anything. It didn't save anyone...but it still matters that the love was there."
Thanks again to everyone who followed the series! ♡
Taglist: @hoeforvinniehackerrr @i-think-you-are-gr8 @thecraziestcrayon @adreamingpendulum @themarauderswife7 @midsoulz @ultramarinetovelvet @val-writes @lafrone @daisiesformylove @mildly-delulu @allebasi05 @enha-stan @skb4000 @nat1221 @s0urw00lf @helpimhopelesslyinlove @helendeath @optimisticsandwichgladiator
#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo x you#slytherin boys#hp fanfic#hp fandom#harry potter fanfiction#amongemeraldcloudswrites#amongemeraldclouds angst
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Redamancy: Chapter Twenty
Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?
Warnings: angstyyy
Notes: Posting a day early - y’all can thank @losa12308 for catching me in a good mood, hope this helps ya feel better hun❤️
Word Count: 2130
Series Masterlist
Reader
Nearly two weeks Jacob Black has not only been ignoring and avoiding Bella, but Quil and I too. Ever since the night of the movies, since his uncharacteristically rude outburst at Mike Newton. Both of my best friends were stressed about it which in turn stresses me out. I’ve called him multiple times to leave voicemails about what he’s doing to his friends, but it was to no avail - radio silence remained.
Bella said Harry Clearwater told her it was mono, but anyone could smell that bullshit from a mile away. Did mono render you catatonic? Unable to communicate with people that care about you?
An uneasy feeling settled in my gut, it had to be more. Something was keeping him from us and I want to know what that something is.
I need to know, I can’t just lose another one…
• March 4th, 2006 • Home •
Reader
“Mom!” I shout through the empty house, trying to locate her.
A rare day we both have off to spend together and I’m about to ditch her.
“Yes, sweetheart?” I hear her voice drift from the laundry room as I make my way downstairs.
Turning as the sound of my approaching footsteps, she raises her eyebrows at my appearance - noting that my state of dress isn’t exactly for a day-in at home anymore.
“Bella called, was wondering if I’d go hiking with her? I think she just needs to take her mind off of Jake and wants company.”
My moms face falls slightly, but I can tell she won’t stop me from running to my best friend’s aid, “Just be careful and take your phone.”
“Thanks mom!” I surge forward and hug her quickly before snatching my keys from the hook by the door on my way out.
“And be back before dark!”
“Of course, love you!” I shout back.
“I love you too, honey!”
I speed almost the entire way to Bella’s - wanting to get her mind off of Jake was true, but she also wanted help finding the meadow.
As in, the meadow.
Her and Edward’s meadow.
• March 4th, 2006 • Ithaca, NY •
Jasper
For months I’ve been feeling with this crack in my soul because of her and I’ve been doing it alone. Admittedly it’s my own doing, but the chafing of not really having my brother in my corner has worn away at me in way that doubles the pain of the loss.
I find myself gravitating towards his closed door, something that before Ithaca would’ve been an odd sight, and knocking on the thin wood.
“Go away.” The words rumble in his distinct baritone just loud enough for me to hear.
“No.” I answer simply, just as tired.
The door whips open in a flash and his eyes send a shock through me. Not because they’re dark with hunger - but dark with anger. And his emotions reflect it threefold.
“What do you want?” His tone raises my hackles, reminding me that my brother isn’t one to be messed with in a mood like this one.
A delicate hand curls up and around his chest, the owner of it completely blocked from view by his massive frame, and he visibly deflates. His anger dialing back a fraction at the influence of just her touch.
A slice of pain lances through me, regret or just plain loneliness at this point I’m not sure.
“Hear him out.” Rose orders him softly, kissing him on the cheek as she slips out from behind him and meets my eyes before disappearing down the hall. “Good luck.”
I reign in the laugh that threatens to bubble up at her throwing me to the wolves, but it’s another thing I’m doing to myself of my own free will, I need my brother.
Holding open the door wider for me to enter, he turns on his heel and deposits himself into the loveseat across from the tv, some muted football game flashing on it.
“I miss you and I’m sorry.” I unload on him with no preamble. No drawn out apology has ever been a requirement of his, short and to the point always a favorite to him.
A dark laugh thunders from him in a way that crushes me even more, “That’s it?”
I nod, I had thought about this conversation for months since he started avoiding me, but all my rehearsed words vacate me.
“That’s one hell of an apology.” The remote emits a small crack as his anger continues to boil. “I got no say, no one wanted to hear me out, and I’m just supposed to suck it the fuck up and just go with the flow of what’s best for the family.” He’s practically vibrating with barely constrained rage, but I let him continue. “She’s not just yours, Jasper.”
A shock jolts me for the second time, his sadness tugging at my heart heavily.
“She’s yours and that’s what makes her mine.” I can tell my confusion spurs Emmett on and he rises from the couch, “As your brother, it’s my responsibility to be her protector and you fucking ripped that away from me. You’re hurting her on purpose and it’s hurting me.”
I’m speechless as his words sink in. Familial-like bonds in a coven as old as ours are strong, but I had no idea.
“She was also my best friend-my little sister. I told her I would be there for her and you’re making me break my promise - something I’ve never fucking done.” Turning away from me to pace in a very non-Emmett move, “Are you going to say anything?”
“I had no idea-”
“You never considered, never noticed, never asked. It’s only been you in pain. You and Edward. You don’t even see what it does to Alice every time you ask her to check on Y/n.”
Her name sends agony anew through me, a thin knife that slices flesh from bone with surgical precision.
“I’m scared.” He would’ve missed my whisper if it weren’t for his supernatural hearing.
“Scared of what?” He’s before me in a flash, gripping my shoulders. “Scared of loving her?”
“Scared of her loving me! Scared of hurting her!” The house falls into dead silence, listening. “You’ve never known terror like this with Rose! You’re not afraid to kill her just from being around her, smelling her, touching her. You have no restrictions, no boundaries!” Tears of venom swirl my vision, but refuse to fall.
I push him off me and turn, attempting to reign in my distress.
“Bro-”
“I can’t do this without you. It’s like wave after wave of grief and I’m at my limit Emmett.” The seriousness in my tone softens him, love and compassion flow from him in a way that feels like his old self and it loosens the tension inside me a fraction.
“I may be angry with you, but I’ll never leave you.” My brother spins me around and engulfs me in his signature bear-hug.
Esme may be the mother of our group, but Emmett is the glue holding us all together. I’d be drowning without my brother and if his death-grip of a hug is any indication, he knows it.
• March 4th, 2006 • Forks, WA •
Reader
“I’m pretty sure we passed that tree two times in the last hour, Bells.” Tromping behind my best friend, I keep my eyes fixed down to prevent myself from tripping over the dense foliage.
“We’re close, I just know it.” There’s a desperate edge to Bella’s voice that stops my teasing and squeezes my heart, I know that feeling. To be grasping for something out of reach to link me back to him.
Pushing through a particularly thick cluster of low-lying branches, I smack face first into Bella’s backpack.
“Bella, you can’t just stop-” Finally my surroundings make sense and I realize we’ve found it. It’s brown and sad as fuck, but we actually found it.
I spin, taking in every inch of the dead meadow as Bella drops to the ground, fingers clutching the crunchy grass. Facing the middle again, I gasp at the figure standing before us, the sound startling Bella into a standing position next to me.
“Bella and Y/n.”
“Laraunt.” His name is a choked gasp on my best friend’s lips.
“I didn’t expect to find either one of you here.” He begins pacing casually in front of us “I went to visit the Cullen’s, but the house is empty? I’m surprised they left you both behind. Weren’t you both sort of… pets of theirs?”
“Y-yeah, you could say that.” Bella answers him as I reach for her hand, a sort of dread sinking in as I think over his words and what he might be getting at.
“Do the Cullen’s visit often?”
You need to leave, darlin’. He’s not safe.
“Yeah absolutely - all the time.” Bella’s lie causes the hair on the back of my neck to raise.
“We’ll tell them you stopped by.” I chime in, trying to make it seem believable and also trying to keep the shaking from my voice - both from the deadly turn of the conversation and from hearing his voice in my head.
“I probably shouldn’t - Edward,” the name rolling of her tongue has her squeezing my hand in pain, “Because he’s pretty protective.”
“But he’s far away, isn’t he? They both are.”
Terror begins to flood my chest, he’s making sure we’re alone.
“Why are you here?” Bella flips the questioning onto Laraunt.
“I came as a favor… To Victoria.” His answer practically stops my heart and I know he can hear it.
“Victoria.” The whisper slips from me without a second thought.
“She asked me to see if either of you were still under the protection of the Cullens. Victoria feels it’s only fair to kill Edward’s and Jasper’s mates, given they killed her’s.” His eyes flicked between us, no doubt sensing the blow of both of their names. “An eye for an eye.”
“Edward would know who did it! And he’d come after you.”
Threaten him.
“Jasper would hunt both of you down.” My emotions fill my voice, the threat not as potent as it could be.
“I don’t think they will. After all, how much could you mean to them if they left you here, unprotected?” The vampire sighs, like he’s actually fucking torn, “Victoria won’t be happy about my killing you, but I can’t help myself - both of you are so mouth watering.”
“Please don’t, y-you helped us-” Bella begins to panic, but he flashes directly in front of us with his speed, fingers reaching for our faces.
“Shhh-shhh, don’t be afraid! I’m doing you a kindness - Victoria plans on killing you slowly, painfully. Whereas I’ll make it quick. I promise, you’ll feel nothing.”
“Edward I love you.” Bella’s confession slips as I close my eyes and squeeze her hand in mine. At least we go together, right?
“I can’t believe it.” The awe in Laraunt’s voice opens my eyes as twigs begin snapping in the tree line behind us.
One large wolf, black as night, emerges from the forest. Large being a gross understatement - more like the size of a fucking horse. Behind the massive animal emerges more of the same, although slightly smaller, but no less scary.
A pack of wolves. A pack of supernaturally huge wolves.
And they’re facing down a vampire, no less.
A vampire on a mission to kill us.
Run.
The command zings through me and takes charge. I yank on Bella’s arm as Laraunt bats away the first wolf like it was nothing, it’s yelp stunning her into action.
The panicked sprint through the woods for her truck is much faster this time than the hike out, neither of us stopping or looking back.
Afraid to see if anything was giving chase.
Afraid to see if the wolves didn’t buy us time.
The ride back to Bella’s was tense to say the least. Too stuck in my own head to even say anything to her, the terror still coursing through my veins keep my mouth shut and fists clenched. What if Laraunt got away from them? What if he was still hunting us?
I never realized until now how scary it is, not having the supernatural protection of the Cullens.
I never realized that I took for granted the safety Jasper surrounded me with. Well, used to surround me with.
The sour thought sends another all-too-familiar painful zap through my chest.
As soon as Bella pulls into her drive, I hop out and climb into my own as she runs inside, probably to tell her dad about the absolutely massive wolves lurking in Forks’ woods.
Wolves that might’ve just saved our lives.
Next
Taglist Part 1:
@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings
#redamancy series#bless-my-demons#jasper hale x reader#jasper hale fanfiction#jasper hale x female!reader#twilight fanfiction#jasper whitlock hale#twilight#jasper hale#female reader insert
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hiiiiii ❤️ I love your art but i wanted to ask if you use AI or not? It’s getting harder to find who the real artists are and who keeps faking it I’d love to see how you start your drawing process and wips!
Hello Anon and thank you for the ask!
I understand the concern of not knowing whether any piece uses AI, but I assure you, none of my art work uses any form of AI. I use Clip Studio Paint to do all of my artwork and everything is sketched, inked, and colored by hand. I have shared many of my WIPs with a few friends of mine, but I'll share them with everyone now, as to put any suspicions to rest! =D
These are wip and sketches, so please don't mind the messy process I have lol! At some point I was thinking of streaming my process, so people can watch me work, if they are at all interested. I'm still working on setting it all up.
Below are my WIP for some of my popular Elucien art!
The Elucien kiss, this was just putting down some shading before I worked on the lighting and coloring over the sketch.
My 'anime' style lucien. I had just put down flats and brief shading on his skin. I used the CSP background of a sunset here, adjusting it later and adding some glow.
My Lucien in Illyrian leathers! I was trying out different brushes and mood painting. A lot of this was attempting some monochromatic base painting before adding colors on top.
The sketch and painting of my Elucien garden. I had the HARDEST time trying to get Elain's head to gently touch Lucien's!
I painted the colors down, and started to get into the flow of the tone I wanted, and bigger shapes of Elain's hair. Like AI, hands are the BANE of my existence! I need a lot more study and anatomy practice. Perhaps I can post some of that here too! (I'm just always embarassed of the messy looks and weirdness of the process)
The base colors for my Elucien mother's day painting! This one turned out so pretty, I LOVED How Elain's hair came out in the end, I was pretty shocked! The sky looked sunny too!
Lucien and his wet shirt! This was the first time I've ever tried to paint a wet shirt effect before. I had no idea what I was doing, and had to try and find many different references.
These are the sketches I had done for Lucien and Elain's Final Fantasy pictures I made. Again, I need more anatomy practice, but doing these were so much fun! I listened to Final Fantasy music too to really get me in the mood. ^-^
And this is Elain of that series, in her flat colors!
There ya have it Anon! Here are just some of the WIPs I could find from my painting/drawing process. A lot of it is messy, chaotic, and just ugly looking at the start, but as they say "trust the process!" I certainly hope this helps ease any thoughts or suspicions. I understand its hard to find good work out there that is done with legitimacy, but all my work has hours of blood sweat and tears in them. =D
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Friday Fic Recs: Long WIP edition
I’ve been thinking a little bit about the (very arduous) process of writing longfic, and how much of a difference support and cheerleading can make on that particular journey; so, although it’s been a while since I’ve made a Friday rec list, I thought I’d put one together celebrating all the incredible in-progress longfics in the Tolkien fandom I’m keeping up with at the moment!
Atandil series by @eilinelsghost. Such a gorgeous graceful moving exploration of Finrod and his relationship with Men, and the slowest and most sensual of slow burns in his romance with Bëor. The amount this series has made me THINK – about love, and hope, and memory, and Taliska grammar – is off the charts, and to top it off it’s written in the loveliest most Tolkienesque prose.
we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin. Ohh this AU is just like a warm gentle hug after a long day. The “kidnap fam but make it a classic children’s novel” concept is so so inspired, all the characterisations are so nuanced and moving (Maglor my beloved!!) and the OCs will steal your heart.
And Love Grew by @polutrope. On the other end of the kidnap fam spectrum, this complex and careful examination of the time after the Third Kinslaying is SO brilliant. Incredible characterisations of all the key players, some truly fascinating OCs (Dornil!!) and of course beautiful graceful prose.
tongues of the sky series by @welcomingdisaster. The first fic in this series, seabird, was written for me and I can be SO obnoxious about this :) but also it’s a wonderful moving ultimately hopeful fix-it AU with note-perfect russingon and m&m dynamics. The sequel, sparrowhawk, is currently in progress and soooo good.
ashes, ashes, dust to dust — the devil’s after both of us by @that-angry-noldo. This is SUCH an original and fascinating take on an AU where Maedhros and Maglor take Finarfin captive to bargain for the Silmarils, featuring incredible character dynamics and a terrifyingly eldritch Eönwë.
and all his towers cast down by @actual-bill-potts. What if Finrod survived the events of the Leithian? Well, angst and trauma, to start off with. And also beautiful beautiful writing, impeccable characterisation and a Maglor-Lúthien teamup!! I adore this AU.
All That Glitters Gold Rush AU series by @allthatglittersisnotgoldrush. This one is LONG LONG LONG, but also SO worth it. Ever wanted to see the entire Silmarillion retold as a western, complete with a terribly tragic and complicated Maedhros, Morgoth the terrifying slave-owner, and a beautifully multicultural Doriath? The authors have you covered.
And the Stars Shine the Same series by @runawaymun. OC-centric fic is such a rare delight and this series set in early Third Age Rivendell is just wonderful, tender and complicated and with a truly incredible Elrond.
Retelling the Hobbit comic by @retellingthehobbit. Something a little different, but I binged all of this comic retelling of The Hobbit on a plane recently and GOD it’s so so beautiful. A truly gorgeous art style, and slowly converting me from a Bilbo/Thorin sceptic into an enjoyer!
In Heart by @tanoraqui. An AU where Fëanor takes the Doom of the Noldor as a what-not-to-do manual and ends up making better choices! Featuring incredible worldbuilding and fantastic characterisation.
Please add on the longfics you love in the reblogs! Let’s get some love going for these difficult beasts!
(Couple of incest recs under the cut.)
naught green upon the oak series by @welcomingdisaster. A CoH-inspired Maedhros/Maglor AU in which Maglor winds up with amnesia after his encounter with Glaurung. I’m SO insane about this series that I can’t be coherent but it is fantastic and chilling and devastating with the most beautiful prose aahhh.
Strange Currencies by @jouissants. Maedhros is re-embodied at last only to learn that he is married to Maglor: a touching and painful post-canon fic interleaved with incredible flashbacks to the First Age.
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