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lemonlover1110 · 8 months

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𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Player Number Forty-Four

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Pairing: Baseball Player!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Tittyfucking, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Creampie

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Sitting amongst thousands of baseball fanatics makes you realize one thing: You fucking hate this sport. You don’t get the point, you don’t know what’s happening half of the time. Maybe you’re just refusing to get the point because you didn’t want to come here in the first place. You were dragged here by a friend who got some last minute tickets– She claimed she got the best possible seats for a low price, and her date canceled on her. She didn’t want to come alone, and now you’re watching the game from what you assume is a great seat.

Too bad for you, you don’t understand much of what’s happening. You’re yawning in boredom because there’s not one interesting thing catching your attention. Baseball just isn’t the sport for you, you much rather would’ve liked sitting in the stadium for any other sport. Maybe soccer or tennis.

You’re just watching Shoko sip on her beer, occasionally yelling but overall, her team seems to be doing well; you wouldn’t know if they weren’t doing well. She’s dressed just as you expected. She wears a jersey for the team that she’s supporting, the “Demon Dogs” (You found the name so fucking funny), and jeans.

“Shoko, when does the game end?” You ask, but she isn’t paying attention to you. Her eyes are staring at the pitcher that’s walking to the pitcher’s mound, and you watch her expression change. The back of her hand is slapping your collar bone, her eyes widening. Your eyebrows are furrowing as you look at her, extremely confused. “What the hell is up?”

“They’re bringing in Fushiguro.” Shoko informs you, but you have a big issue… You have no idea who Fushiguro is. You assume it’s the pitcher that spits onto the dirt as he walks to the pitcher’s mound that is outlined with a white circle. You blink slowly, getting her hand off you. You slightly shake your head, raising your eyebrows.

“I have no idea who he is.” You end up chuckling. It’s the man that’s about to pitch, you don’t know why she’s upset. The man that holds the baseball mitt is certainly a sight for sore eyes. At least from this distance. You just know that you nearly cry when his back is turned to you, leaving you to look at the number forty-four that’s on his jersey.

“He’s their best pitcher. Maybe the best pitcher in the whole league.” Shoko answers. The little hope that the team that she’s rooting for would win, is now completely gone. Her arms are crossed and her lips are now pouty. “Probably were testing the waters with a new pitcher since Fushiguro can’t play forever… But that clearly didn’t work.”

“What was even happening?” You question, and she tries to explain how awful the first pitcher was: throwing bad pitches, which kept resulting in balls– You didn’t quite grasp the concept. You were too scared to ask anyway. You watch as the man turns his body forty-five degrees, raising his left leg before he throws the ball, and your eyes widen because that’s the fastest you’ve seen a ball travel. You hear Shoko huff, probably accepting that her team is going to lose. It happens two more times until the player is finally out, and another one walks up. “I’m no genius but you were right about Fushiguro.”

“I hate him.” Shoko rolls her eyes, causing you to laugh. You certainly don’t feel the same. You throw your arm over her and then lay your head on hers.

“Why don’t you root for the better team? I think they’re selling their jerseys.” You joke, and she pushes you away. Before your conversation is over, Fushiguro has striked out another player.

“Why don’t you buy a jersey for that other team since you’re clearly rooting for them.” She says, and you’re nearly about to get up to do what she tells you. You feel awkward since you’re wearing a tank top and a push up bra, so you’ve definitely been getting stares.

“I just might.” You answer. You almost miss the moment where the batter finally hits the fast ball, if you hadn’t paid attention, Shoko wouldn’t have gotten up to catch it and she would’ve gone home with a bump and bruise on her head– Or, the more likely outcome, someone else would’ve caught it. There’s a grin on her face as the batter runs from home, goes through all bases, and returns, without a sweat, back to the home base.

She shows off the ball and hands it to you. You examine the ball before turning your attention to her. She looks smug before she tilts her head and asks, “Think you might change your mind?”

“Does your team have handsome players like Fushiguro?” You respond before you turn your attention back to the field. She taps your shoulder and then points at the player who just hit the homerun. He doesn’t look that bad, but you’re not too close so you can see him

“Don’t you think he looks good? He does have a girlfriend but–” She begins, and you roll your eyes. You block her out, watching the game at hand. You watch how Fushiguro does the same thing again, and even though you were expecting to see the ball move ridiculously fast, this time it seems like it curves. The batter hits it though, and it makes Shoko grip to her seat with a smile coming to her face. She shuts up about what she was talking about, but before the ball even hits the ground, it’s in Fushiguro’s hand. You almost laugh at how Shoko’s expression changes. She ends up sighing before saying, “Oh yeah, I was saying I wanted to fuck his girlfriend.”

“Who? Fushiguro’s?” You ask, making her click her tongue. She doesn’t bother reiterating, so you’re left clueless. You don’t care all that much either. You keep watching until Shoko’s team is on the pitching side and your Fushiguro’s team is on the batting side. You lose focus when you don’t see the man that you’re rooting for up there and batting. The man that’s pitching is the same man that Shoko was talking to you about earlier. What makes him stand out is his head of white hair. “How long is this game?”

“Why are you in a rush to leave?” Shoko sounds offended as she asks the question. You can’t even believe it because you thought you had made it obvious how you weren’t into the game at all. She doesn’t seem to pick up the cues though.

“I want him to sign the ball.” You keep it brief, and you assume that she immediately knows who it is. The same man that you’ve been talking about the past couple minutes. It amazes you how Shoko can sometimes… Completely miss the point.

“Who? Gojo?” She replies, and you exhale, holding back your laughter. You don’t even have an idea who Gojo is, but you assume it’s the pitcher, the one who hit the homerun. You shake your head.

“Fushiguro.” You answer, and she rolls her eyes.

“He didn’t even hit that ball.” She reminds you, but you so clearly don’t care. Before you can defend yourself she points to the field and informs you, “Speak of the devil, he’s coming up to bat.”

That’s what makes your eyes go to the field again, and then to the big screen that displays the field and allows you to look at the game better. Fushiguro’s brows are furrowed, his lips downturned as his eyes focus on the pitcher. You don’t care about his stance– Or maybe you do when you notice how big and muscular his arms are. Maybe you understand why people become fanatics of this boring sport because if you were to see a man like Fushiguro in every game, you’d devote yourself to the sport.

Fushiguro gets a strike, and you almost groan disappointedly. You’re not into the game enough to actually express any sort of disappointment though. If he loses, he loses. He won’t stop being hot. But the second time around, Fushiguro hits the ball and almost knocks it out of the field. It makes you turn to Shoko and ask, “Do you know what his type is?”

“Why would I keep up with that loser?” Shoko responds, and sometimes she makes it so painfully clear that she’s into women. You try to keep up with the rest of the inning, but it’s hard when all the attention isn’t on Fushiguro. You attempt to speak with Shoko but she’s focused on the game, probably praying that a miracle will happen for her team. You have a couple comments about Fushiguro but it’s best if you don’t share. They’re too vulgar to share right now.

You don’t even notice a break begin, until Shoko begins to talk more, focusing her attention on you. “I heard he’s a deadbeat. Some shit like that. He has a twelve year old son and according to the mom–”

“I don’t want a relationship with him, I just want to fuck him.” You cut her off. You really don’t want her to ruin your source of entertainment tonight. Once you know that Fushiguro is a horrible person, you won’t find him as hot while he plays. You feel ashamed for admitting that out loud so you try to correct yourself, even when Shoko knows what you mean. “I mean… I just don’t need to know all that about him.”

“Of course you– Oh my god, you’re on the kiss cam.” Shoko points out, and you look at the big screen to find yourself there, with the guy that sits next to you. He’s awkward, unsure of how to approach the situation. He looks like he wants to kiss you… But you don’t want to kiss him. Maybe it makes you shallow but you’re not kissing a random stranger because he has a great personality. He just isn’t your type.

“Save me Shoko…” You mutter, and she laughs before her hands cup your face and she pulls your head in. Her lips meet yours, and just as her tongue swipes over your bottom lip, she pulls away with a smile on her face. You end up chuckling, before thanking her.

You keep your eye on the field, watching player number forty-four closely. Fushiguro is the real star in all of this. He apparently seems to be doing well in his field, but you consider him the star simply because he looks so damn good. You keep your eye on him until the game ends.

Shoko is clearly mad at the fact that her team lost, and as the great friend that you are, you begin to comfort her until you remember your great idea. This is the only opportunity to do it, after all, you doubt that after this you’ll find Fushiguro again. This isn’t their home town, and you’re not putting yourself through the torture of sitting through another baseball game in the upcoming season just to get his signature… or well, to get him to notice you. You can comfort Shoko some other time, either way, she’s a sore loser so nothing you do will bring her spirits up.

You still have the ball in hand, and you get up from your seat and run down– Admittedly pushing some people out of the way, until the railing stops you so you can’t go further. Fushiguro is walking to the dugout, baseball mitt under his armpit, wiping the sweat on his chin with his shirt. He won’t notice you if you just stand there, especially since people are walking behind you. You yell his name as loud as you can, and it causes his eyes to dart your way. You show off the ball that’s in your hand and he walks over to you.

“Do you have a marker?” He asks, and you feel your face get warm as your brain processes the question. Of course not, you weren’t planning on getting anything signed. You bite down on your lips before you shake your head. He ends up chuckling before he yells, “Kong! Get me a marker!”

“You were really good out there.” You comment, slightly tilting your head, giving him a sweet smile. Fushiguro knows that look in your eyes– Well, he thought he did because he’s pretty sure you’re into chicks. He saw you kiss that girlfriend of yours or whatever… He can still do some harmless flirting. He smirks at you, and he’s so focused on you that he nearly misses the marker that’s being thrown at him. He opens the black marker and takes the ball from your hand.

“Really? Did you enjoy the game, pretty girl?” He licks his lips, his eyes focused on signing the ball that he has in his hand. His gaze shifts though, from the ball to your cleavage. He tries to disguise it, but it’s clear what he’s doing. You hum in response, trying your best to keep an alluring smile on your face.

“I loved watching you play.” You respond because you really don’t know what else to say. Should you ask him out? Would he reject you? He keeps looking at your cleavage so maybe he’d accept, but that also doesn’t mean anything. He probably gets asked out a lot, so it’s best if he makes the first move so you know if he’s really interested.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” He hands you the ball, and you’re hesitant before you take it. You have to say something before he leaves but you don’t know what; something that’ll really stick in his mind. You take the ball, and you’re biting your tongue, you have an idea but it isn’t prudent. You bat your eyelashes before you ask him,

“Will you sign something else?” He raises his brow until he realizes what you’re talking about. You’re pretty much shaking them right in his face… Will your girlfriend get mad or something? His eyes are on your boobs and he’s tempted. His eyes search for your girlfriend in the sea of people, and when he doesn’t see her, he shrugs.

“You sure you want me to sign your tits? It doesn’t come off easily.” He warns you.

“Do it.” You nod your head, and with that assurance, you feel the marker on your cleavage as he signs his name across your breasts. He doesn’t keep it small, he wants to make it as big as he can. He smiles when he sees the work of art, his name on your chest. You bite down on your lip before saying, “Thank you, Fushiguro.”

“Please, call me Toji.” Toji says, a smug smile on his face as he puts the cap back on the marker. Is he immoral enough to ask a woman that seems to be in a relationship out? Oh, he is. He definitely is. “Will you–”

You know what’s about to leave his lips. He’s going to ask for your number. But he knows that he just wants to fuck and for some reason his conscience is telling him not to ruin a perfect relationship just for an hour or two. Since when did he become a good human being? You’re clearly throwing yourself at him, for fuck’s sake, he just signed your boobs.

You tilt your head, “Will I what?”

“Will you tell your girlfriend to root for the better team?” He ends up saying, and the word doesn’t fully process in your head. Before you can get a word in, he’s walking back to the dugout and it hits you. Does he mean girlfriend as in your romantic partner or your friend?

“I’m convinced that he would’ve asked me out if I hadn’t kissed Shoko.” You tell your friends, who aren’t all that interested in what you have to say. Shoko invited you out to a bar along with another mutual friend, and the date that canceled on her. The woman probably feels awkward as you keep babbling on how you kissed Shoko. Admittedly, you’re not attracted to each but it’s still awkward to hear about how your date kissed someone else.

“He’s not all that great anyway. Maybe you could try to hook up with Gojo so I can–” Shoko begins and when her eyes land on her date, she shuts her mouth. She chugs half of her drink, wiping her mouth when the glass hits the table again. “Move on, drink something and–”

“And?” You ask when Shoko stops in the middle of her sentence. She’s glaring at the entrance of the place, and it makes you turn. She’s gripping her bottle, asking what the hell they’re here. You realize that this is your chance.

A couple days after you last saw Toji, he walks inside the bar with three other friends… Or teammates, you’re not sure which word describes their relationship better. You smile at your friends before saying, “Maybe the universe has other plans for me.”

“You’re not going there.” Shoko sounds clearly annoyed. She can’t believe how you’re a traitor. You want to flirt with Fushiguro even though she’s a fan of the opposing team? You’re not much of a friend. “He’s a whore. If you sleep with him, he’ll give you a disease.”

“There’s always treatments.” You’re saying under your breath as you stand up. You smooth out your skirt before walking toward the man who wears a navy blue sweater and jeans. You won’t lie, you like the baseball uniform better but he still manages to look so good in his outfit. You’re not exactly sure how to approach him, so you tap his shoulder, causing him to turn around to find you with a sweet smile on your glossy lips. He smiles back at you.

“Nice to see you here, pretty girl.” Toji’s words make you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It makes your face warm. The people who he came with are also looking at you. “She’s the girl I was telling you guys about.”

“The lesbian?” A short woman with long dark hair speaks up, asking the same question that everyone in the group has. When Toji nods, you chuckle. They end up walking away, the short woman intertwining her fingers with the blond man’s that accompanies them. You recall seeing him, he’s a catcher in Toji’s team. They’re gone before you can correct them.

“I’m not a lesbian.” You tell Toji, and he raises his brows as a smirk comes to his lips. He throws his arm over your shoulder and instead of going to the booth that his friends are at, he heads to an empty booth. You take a seat across from each other, and you ask him, “Care for a drink?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Toji jokes, and you end up laughing. He clears his throat before saying, “I’m going to get a glass of water, do you care for anything?”

“I’m good, thank you.” You respond, and you watch him walk to the bar to get himself a drink. You wonder why he’s sticking with water, but it’s not that hard to decipher that he’s probably the designated driver for the night. The more you think about it, the more special you feel. He came here to spend time with his friends, yet he sat down with you.

It’s clear he wants a hookup, and he didn’t do anything at the stadium because he thought you were a lesbian; you find it ridiculous though, considering he signed your tits. He sits back down and you smile at him. He takes a sip of the water before he asks the inevitable, “Was that your girlfriend? The woman you kissed?”

“We’re just friends. Friends kiss sometimes.” You answer, and he purses his lips, wondering if that’s true for girls. Certainly not true for him and his friends. While he stays quiet, you add, “Kiss cam landed on me, there was an ugly guy next to me so I asked Shoko to help.”

Toji would judge, but he gets it. He wouldn’t kiss an ugly girl even if she had a great personality– He doesn’t know when he became so shallow, he wasn’t always like this. But that doesn’t matter anyway since the woman that sits across from him is anything but ugly.

“Nice to know you’re into men. Only reason I didn’t steal you after the game was because I thought that was your girlfriend back there.” He shares, and you end up laughing. You could gather that by the way he reacted when he saw you, but it’s nice to hear him actually say it. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

You introduce yourself to him. He makes sure to compliment your name, a comment that’s insignificant so you don’t pay much attention to it. You still mutter a thank you. He then asks a question that leaves you confused, “So what do I have to do so you become a mako shark fan?”

“A what?” You almost burst out laughing when you hear that. When did baseball team names become so ridiculous? You’re laughing as you respond, “Is that the name of your team?”

“Yeah…” He awkwardly responds, trying to laugh it off. He scratches the back of his neck, and he swears it’s the first time that he feels embarrassed about the team that brings him so much money each year. “I take it you’re not a fan of the team.”

“Nor the sport. My friend was the one that dragged me.” You share. It makes Toji feel better, less insignificant. You bite down on your bottom lip before you blink a couple times and you ask him, “Maybe you could… Explain the game to me, maybe it’ll get me interested.”

“I know that trick, in the end you won’t care and I’ll waste my words.” He replies, and you find yourself laughing more. You end up nodding, agreeing in response. You just want him to engage in a conversation, and the only subject that crossed your mind was baseball. “Tell me about… Did you grow up here?”

“I’ve lived here for the past ten years so… Yes but no.” You wonder why he’s keeping up the conversation. Shoko acts as if he’s the biggest whore in the world but he’s trying to engage in a conversation with you when it’s clear that you want to go back to his hotel. “How about you… Did you grow up in whatever city–”

“Yeah.” He answers. His eyes glance at his friends for a moment, they don’t seem to be having too much fun, so he’s glad he’s with you. He ends up rolling his eyes before he comments, “I have to drive those idiots home later.”

“Did you offer to be the designated driver or did they give the role to you?”

“I don’t really drink so… They just brought me along. Kind of rude though, I had other plans.” He responds, yet he smirks when he looks at you. “I’m glad I’m here though… What do you do anyway?”

“Real estate agent, nothing too fun.” You reply. “Just trying to convince people into buying houses and whatnot.”

“Is that your dream job?” He questions, and your eyes widen a bit. Your eyebrows then come together, your lips pursing as you try to think about the question. You don’t really have a dream job, and you’ve never really thought about it. Other than,

“I don’t know. Maybe a housewife.” You end up shrugging. “How about you? Is being a baseball player your dream job?”

“Yeah… I guess. Never really thought about it.” And before you can dwell on the subject, he clears his throat and asks, “Anyway, I assume you know your way around the city. Would you care to be my tour guide tomorrow?”

“You’re lucky I have the day off.”

“Is that a yes?” Toji asks, and you hum in response. Around this moment he’d suggest going back to the hotel, but he has to stick around for his teammates. Luckily enough, he can see you again tomorrow. God, he just wishes he could ditch them. “So… Let’s say I wanted to buy a house around here.”

“Ew, why would you?” You end up laughing, and he laughs along with you. You reach into your purse to grab a business card. You slide it to him, and he inspects it when it’s in his hands. “That’s my work phone, but if you have a pen I can write my cell number.”

“Don’t you have a pen in your purse?” He responds, and you click your tongue.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I had one, would I?” You tell him, and his cheeks turn slightly pink. Of course you don’t, why would you ask for a pen if you had one. He excuses himself for a moment and stands up from his chair, running to the booth that his teammates are in. The same man that tossed him a marker in the game, is not handing him a pen. For that moment you feel special, although it isn’t much effort to stand up and ask for a pen but some people wouldn’t even try. You can also just put your number in his phone, but the idea doesn’t cross your mind until he’s back with the pen.

“What’s your number?” He asks, more than ready to write it down on the card.

“I can also put it in your phone…” You suggest, and he ends up laughing as he pulls out his phone. You’re dumbfounded when you see his old phone– You weren’t sure if they still made phones that flipped, but he’s proved you wrong. “Do they not pay you enough?”

“You won’t believe it. I tried to buy a third house but they weren’t paying me enough.” He shakes his head disappointedly, flipping the phone open, opening the phone app and then handing it to you. You take it and type in your number. “I don’t see the point in getting a new phone. I just need to call a couple people and that’s it.”

“Do you know what a computer is?” You respond as you give him back the phone. He ends up shaking his head, obviously joking. “How old are you anyway? I hope that’s not rude.”

“Twenty– Thirty-something years old. Near my forties.” He answers, not wanting to give specifics to not scare you off; of course, you can just look it up. “I know it’s rude to ask a lady her age but how old are you? It’s only fair for me to ask.”

“Not telling you.” You say, and he cocks his eyebrow. A laugh escapes his lips before he jokes,

“What? Are you a granny that manages to look young?” He jokes, and you nod in response, a smile on your lips. You haven’t talked much but you feel like you’re clicking with him. There’s a foolish smile on your face, a laugh leaving your lips every time he makes a dumb joke.

“So um… I can’t really give you what you’re looking for tonight.” He brings up after ten minutes of chatter. You slightly tilt your head.

“And what exactly am I looking for?” You question, and you swear there’s a sparkle in his eyes. This isn’t the first time this has happened to him, but he enjoys your presence. He likes the way you put your hand over your chest and you dramatically gasp before you tell him, “Are you suggesting I want to–”

“We both know you want to.” He cuts you off, and he isn’t exactly wrong. The only reason you approached him was to hook up with him– You’ll admit that you enjoy the conversation. “Do you want to join my friends?”

“Well… I’m enjoying this time alone with you, but if you want to join them.” You answer. He glances at them for a moment before looking back at you. He lightly shakes his head,

“Maybe some other time. Tell me more about you.”

Nothing ends up happening that night, but it’s fine because you agreed to meet up the next day. He tells you the hotel that he’s staying at, and you plan on meeting at the coffee shop that’s across the hotel. You aren’t an early riser nor do you like to be extremely early to places, but you find yourself with a coffee and a pastry almost an hour before the time that you agreed to meet up.

You’re scrolling through your phone, and you almost miss the man that walks into the coffee shop, extremely early just like you. Your eyes meet, and a smile comes to your face. If you believed in love at first sight, you’d say that’s what this is. But you aren’t in love with Toji, you just find him handsome– And you feel like you can spend hours talking to him.

“Toji.” You say. He walks over toward you, his hands in his pockets. When you’re in front of him, his eyes go straight to your chest since your dress is showing your cleavage.

“Didn’t really notice that my name isn’t on them.” He awkwardly chuckles, and it embarasses you. If you knew that you’d be here so early in the day to meet up with him, you wouldn’t have asked him to sign your breasts; on the other hand, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your boldness. You try your best to act confident, putting on your best smile.

“You can always sign them again if you want.” It’s meant to be a joke, and he laughs, but he’s about to ask the barista to borrow the marker. You clear your throat before saying, “Anyway, you should get your coffee so we can start.”

“Yeah.” He responds before he walks to the line. You walk back to your seat, and you finish your drink and coffee before he’s ready to go. He only gets a coffee, and he gloats about how, “I got it for free. Barista knew who I was.”

“You’re so lucky. The rich get richer and poor people like me still have to pay for their coffee.” You point out lightheartedly. He chuckles as you stand up. You walk out of the coffee shop together, and you begin to walk to your first stop: the aquarium.

You’re tired since the previous night you stayed up looking up places to take him. You’re not too sure about the downtown area, you’ve only been here a couple of times. You’re determined to give him a good time so maybe when he comes back to the city, he’ll think of you.

“So where are we going?” Toji asks, following your lead. You decide to stay quiet as you continue walking. He won’t really push it, trusting your judgment. He sips on his coffee before asking, “So… Have you gotten married before?”

“No. I assume you have.” You respond, and he raises his brow. You’re not really paying to his facial expressions, so you completely miss it.

“So um… Are you trying to call me old?” He sounds offended. You bite down on your lip as you hold back a laugh. You end up humming in response– And as you do so you remember Shoko’s words. She called him a deadbeat, something along those lines. And you shouldn’t care, you try to not let it bother you. After today you doubt you’ll ever see him again. “I have been married before. Twice.”

“Don’t want to ruin the mood by talking further about it.” You tell him, not wanting to hear something that’ll possibly scare you away. Not before you have sex with him at the very least. Having sex with a celebrity is on your bucket list and you want to check that off; although you aren’t too sure if he’s considered a celebrity. You’ve never heard of him before, but you don’t keep up with sports and additionally people recognize him.

“The aquarium.” Toji doesn’t look all that surprised. He still follows, and when you’re about to pay for two tickets, he pulls out his wallet and slams his card on the counter before you can do it. He definitely makes more money than you, he will offer to pay. Especially since he wants to get into your pants. When you’re inside, you smirk,

“Maybe we’ll see a mako shark.” He ends up rolling his eyes before he laughs. His hand goes to the small of your back as you begin to walk around. He isn’t all that interested in the fishes and sea creatures but it seems like you like to look around. You’re interested in the stupid variety of fishes.

Maybe he’s entertained when he stares at the sharks. His lips are pursed together, his hands in his pockets as his eyes follow the sharks. You’re walking around, looking at all the sea life around you until you’re back next to him. You poke his arm and you keep your finger pressed on his skin as you realize just how strong he is. His eyes finally fall on you. He doesn’t know what to say. Toji feels weird… He’s known you for a day or even less, and he thinks he likes you.

It certainly isn’t love, he knows what love is. But he enjoys spending time with you, and he knows that he’ll like to have you by his side as he grows old. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed as much as he did last night. He’s just trying to get into your pants.

Toji has a cold demeanor that a person really has to work through to get him to be nicer. He doesn’t know why he didn’t put that up with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t like making pretty girls work for his attention.

“So did you find your team in the water?” You joke, and it’s so fucking dumb that he laughs along. He shakes his head. He throws his arm over your shoulder and begins to walk elsewhere because the sharks have gotten boring. He hears someone call his name, and he turns to find a random kid. He excuses himself, and you watch as he takes a photo with the young fan.

The young fan is grinning and telling Toji just about anything he can think of, and your heart softens just watching Toji pay attention to the young kid. It reminds you of Shoko’s words though, and this question rises in your mind. Toji looks so sweet with the kid. When Toji finally gets to your side you ask the question that bugs your mind,

“Do you have kids?” It catches him off guard. It’s nice to know that you haven’t looked him up though. A weak smile appears on his face before he nods in response.

“I have a twelve-year-old son.” His arm is over your shoulder again, and you’re walking elsewhere. You follow his lead, just staring at his face as you wait for him to elaborate. It doesn’t seem like he will until he clears his throat and adds, “His mom has full custody.”

“Okay.” Your lips form into a thin line as you nod. You know you can’t really ask more, you’ll definitely be crossing a line that you don’t want to cross. You’re walking to a darker area, and he comes to a stop which makes you stop as well. “I hope you’re having fun.”

“I am.” He answers, and you look up at him, meeting his eyes. You have no idea why but you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It’s weird considering you just met, for all you know, he means danger. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel your face get warm. You stare at each other for a moment until Toji notices the jellyfish behind you, and he points at them. “That looks… Pretty.”

“It is.” You blink slowly as you take in the pretty sight. You look back at each other at the same time. He scratches the back of his neck.

“So does this count as a first date?” He asks, and you giggle.

“Yeah, I think so.” You respond. “As long as I get into your pants.”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.” He says, and he covers his mouth, his eyes widening when he notices a child walking by. He looks at the parents, “I did not mean to say that.”

“You need to watch what you say. There’s children around.” You tell him, and he scoffs.

“Fuck you.” And you pout your lips before dramatically turning.

“I guess since you don’t do the hanky panky after the first date, this date is over.” You do so more to see his reaction. You’re actually enjoying your date with him so you don’t care if you have sex or not. Your arms are crossed and your head slowly turns to see his reaction. You watch as Toji’s hands are on his knees, and he’s wiping away a tear. He silently laughs, and just watching him makes you chuckle as well.

When he calms down, he cups your face. “The hanky panky? Really?”

“Whatever you want to call it. You know what I mean.” You try your best to keep a serious face. It’s hard to. Especially when his words sound so funny even though they aren’t supposed to be. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Toji. See you on the second date.”

“You know I was joking.” He tells you, his face inching closer to yours. He isn’t going to throw in the detail that he’s leaving tomorrow and he probably won’t see you again. You’re leaning in for a kiss, and he comes to a complete stop. He’s never seeing you again after this– Maybe in a year or so but so much can happen in a year. When you realize that he’s stopped, you ask,

��Why did you–” You begin and before you finish your sentence, his lips land on yours. It’s a short but sweet kiss; you swear you hear fireworks when you feel his soft lips on yours, and you dismiss it because it’s over as fast as the kiss is.

“Is the date really over?” He asks as you gather your thoughts.

“No. It’s far from over.”

You get some lunch after and while the food was awful, you had a great time with him. You kept talking for hours until you realized the sun was setting, and that’s when you realized that you kept talking for hours. Toji offered to go back to his hotel to watch a movie since neither of you knew what else to do. You agreed, knowing that you aren’t going to watch a movie.

“So what movie do you want to–” Toji begins as you step into his hotel room, yet before he gets to finish the sentence, his hands are lifting up your dress. He’s been thinking about this all fucking– For days, he’s been thinking about fucking you ever since he signed your tits. He throws your dress elsewhere when his lips land on yours.

His tongue enters your mouth and presses against yours while his hands roam your body. He’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this for centuries. There’s so much passion in his kiss, and your legs begin to grow weaker and weaker. You swore you had no chance when he walked away after the game, and god, you’re so fucking glad that you were wrong.

Toji’s hand unhooks your bra, and he slides it off before throwing it elsewhere, just like the dress. Toji pulls away from the kiss, and kisses down your neck. His lips feel so hot on your skin, and you’re burning up.

When he gets to your breast, he licks across the area where he signed. His thumb and index finger begin to pinch your nipple while his tongue circles your other nipple. His tongue flicks your nipple before his mouth wraps around it and he begins to suck.

“I liked them better with my name on them.” Toji says when he unlatches. He kisses your breasts until he gets to your other nipple, and he latches again. A breathy moan leaves your lips as he plays with your sensitive nipples.

“You can write your name on them again.” You tell him. His lips go to yours again and he kisses you multiple times, his hands cupping your breasts. His lips then go to your ear and he whispers,

“Let me fuck your tits, baby.” His teeth nibble on your earlobe, your hand going to the buckle of his belt and undoing it. You grow more and more desperate by the moment. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do. You unbutton and pull down his pants. He completely takes them off and your hand palms his cock. God, he grows more and more impatient with each passing second. He needs some relief.

You grab his hand and you lead him to the bed before you push him down. You pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to be free, before you get on your knees. Your hand wraps around his length, and you bring your lips together to spit on it a couple times before you put his shaft in the middle of your chest. You squeeze your tits together and he bites his bottom lip, holding back a moan. You begin to move your breasts and he watches you, taking everything in him to not loudly moan into the air. He’s been waiting for this for what feels like forever.

This is better than what he imagined. How pathetic would it be for him to come fast? He hates that you’ve taken over his thoughts, even though he hasn’t even known you for a week. You’re just so fucking pretty.

“Fuck– I love your fucking tits.” He finally moans. Your head leans down and you’re licking the tip of his cock, and maybe he should’ve abandoned his drunk friends to fuck you last night; it definitely would’ve been much better than dragging too many drunk people back into a hotel room, keeping them from yelling into the streets and embarrassing themselves. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re still here, fucking his cock with your boobs. “It’s so good.”

Your boobs keep moving up and down your boobs until his dick finally twitches, his cum making a mess. Some of it lands on your tongue, most of it on your chest. You make sure to swallow the cum that’s on your tongue, while his finger goes to your chest, gathering some of his cum before he traces his signature on your chest again.

“There we go.” He smirks as you get up from the floor. When his finger gathers his cum from your chest again, he brings it up to your lips and when you open your mouth, he shoves his fingers in. You gag on his fingers, and it sounds like music to his ears.

He takes his fingers out, your saliva coating his digits. You get up from the floor and force him to lay down on the bed. You get on top of him, knees on either side of him. Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and you begin to pull it up. He helps you get his shirt off, and you swear there’s a god in your bed. Fuck he looks good.

“You wanna ride me?” Toji asks as his fingers begin to play with your clothed cunt. You bite down your lip as you hold back a pathetic moan in your throat.

“Whatever you want.” You answer. You sound so fucking pathetic and Toji loves it. He’s loving everything about this.

“I just need you wrapped around me.” He answers as he pushes your panties to the side. You lean down, your mouth kissing his. Toji takes the opportunity to run his cock through your folds before he pushes himself inside of you. He lets you adjust to every inch of his cock.

Your hands go to his chest for support as you begin to move on his cock. Toji swears he’s in heaven when he feels you wrapped around his cock. Your pussy just feels so fucking good. This feeling is euphoric, and he swears he’ll forever remember this because god– He’s fucking moaning. He’s moaning so fucking loud too but you’re drowning it out.

“You feel so fucking good.” He can’t help but moan. His hands travel from your back to grip your ass. You’re moving back and forth on his cock, hitting that right spot that makes you feel so fucking good. He loves looking at your face, filled with pleasure that his cock gives him. He just wants to snap a picture so he can look at it.

Your movements were already slow in the beginning, they get even slower since you tire out quickly. It’s unfair that you’re doing all the work while Toji, who is an athlete that definitely has more stamina, does nothing. Toji teases you, “Tired? Already?”

“Please move, Toji.” You’re sticking out your bottom lip. He chuckles before he begins to do the work for you. You curse over and over again since his thrusts are rapid at least compared to the speed that you had set.

Your hand goes down to play with your clit. Your pussy begins to tighten around him, and he has to bite down his lip to not let out an animalistic noise. You throw your head back, arching your back as you shut your eyes, “Fuck– Love your cock.”

It’s all too much for you to handle. You stop playing with yourself when you’re near the edge.

“You’re so tight.” He says through gritted teeth. You shut your eyes, and you keep moaning his name over and over again. You have no consideration for his teammates who are on the same floor as him. You don’t care if they hear or don’t hear.

“Oh, Toji!” You loudly moan when you reach your high. He loses control, god, this is just better than everything. He’s never had something so good before. His hands go to your hips and his nails dig into the flesh.

“Need to come inside you.” He says, and you don’t care to push him away. You’re on birth control, you just need to feel his cum inside of you. So fucking bad. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do with you. He’s got you in a trance ever since you met him.

“Do it, please please please.” You chant. His movements get sloppy until he finally fills you up with his cum. He keeps his cock buried inside of you until every drop of his seed is inside of you. When he pulls out, your lips repeatedly kiss his over and over again.

Your head then falls on his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you smile as you feel his hand run up and down your back. You’re breathing in his scent, and you swear you’ve never felt so comfortable in someone else’s arms like how you feel right now.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” He speaks up, and you lift your head to look at him.

“Are you sad about it?” You ask him, and you watch him shrug. Your finger pokes his muscular chest before you tease him, “You’re sad because you’re leaving? We haven’t known each other for so long.”

“I know… And I’m not sad. Why would I be?” He responds. Your head lays back down on his chest and you’re listening to his heartbeat. “You’ve just made me feel so good. I’ve never laughed so hard, and I haven’t felt this good in ages. And I don’t feel like I can let that go. I really really like you.”

“We can always reconnect. You can fly back here.” You remind him, but he seems to have a very different idea. Very different. It makes you sit up and look at him wide eyed when he suggests,

“Let’s get married.”

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unluckilyimnot · 2 months

Text

lazy day with bllk boys

characters: sae, rin, nagi, karasu, reo

fluff

m.list || rules || requests are open :)

note: i had more ideas but i got lazy lmao, feel free to ask for more

Sae + beach day

it’s better when it’s sunny but honestly he just needs it

he goes whenever he has a day off

you two usually eat around the harbor, take cute pictures, visit a little if you can

Sae loves beach more than anything in life but if you ask him he’ll never admit it. Yet that’s where he find himself naturally going when he needs some fresh air and needs to clear his mind. It happened to be rather cloudy today, but it means less people outside so he’s not complaining. He didn’t felt like dealing with people trying to talk to him. Beside you.

You always tag along since you’re a sea lover as well – and that you love collecting rocks.

“Sae, Sae look at this one !” you cheered while getting up and rushing to him. Showing off your really cute, red rock to him with a smile, he can’t help but nod with a little smile in return before offering his hand. You leave it to him so he could clean it up before giving it back to you. It’s an habit now, because you hate it when you have stuff on your hands.

You took his other hand and started walking around the beach again, admiring the view even without sun or boats. It was calm, just like you like as well.

“There.” He gave the rock back to you as he secretly promised and he couldn’t wait to see where you’re going to put it in his apartment.

Nagi + gaming

understand : usual day off

he’s always gaming anyway but that’s the rare occasion you play with him

“Ah… Ah! Aaah!!” you whined, almost throwing the controller across the room. You fell on your back, laying down with open arms. “I think I’m gonna die now. It’s fine, I can’t face the shame.”

“You did great.” Nagi added quietly, already getting ready for the next game. You two were playing Mario Party together, one of the only game you play in fact. “Come on, I choose the next one.”

No answer.

“Come onnnnn.” It was his time to whine but when you still didn’t answer him, he had to use his special technique : laying flat on top of you. A strangle oof left your lips before you tried to pus him. It’s your tall, heavy boyfriend against your limited strength.

“Move !!” you command but it fell into deaf ear. You cry even more, not really in the mood to receive the treatment you gave.

“Okay,I’m sorry ! I’m ready now move please ! I can’t breath !”

“You’re a liar,” he started, pulling himself up on one arm. “You’re still breathing.” You roll your eyes at his statement.

“No shit.” you scoffed before pushing him for good. “I’m gonna win this time.”

Nagi only nod, knowing dawn well you won’t but still loving your enthusiasm.

Reo + bath and skin care

he likes to take care of you and himself

his day off are dedicated to that

+ funny picture to decorate your wall

A mask now setting on you face, your whole body was immersed in hot, bubbly water and all your muscles were finally able to relax. Your back resting against Reo, you look up to catch him looking at his phone, with a mask on his face as well.

You two just had the best skin care routine hour and Reo had the wonderful idea to run a bath. That’s how you ended up with both you hair up and you blowing bubbles around like a child. It’s been a while, you missed it.

“Babe, hear this,” and then he goes on about some news about one of Mikage corporation’s partner and their research. You don’t get about everything about business but you still into it as well, but you weren’t really in the mood. Kissing his jaw, you answered.

“What about I don’t and you try to disconnect a little ?” You took his phone off his hand after whipping your hand. Reo sighs behind you but you didn’t mind. His head laid on your shoulder, waiting for you to come back in the water. After putting a soft, lofi background music you were back in the hot water and in your lover’s arms. Reo slowly stroking your arm while talking about some book he’d like to read, finally leaving work behind. You couldn’t ask for more.

Karasu + reading together

he likes some quality time on his resting day

some tea, a good book and you reading by his side

Karasu couldn’t ask for more when you asked him to make another tea pot. You already have finish it when he only drank 2 cup, but it also mean that you’re really into your book and he loved that sight. You gasping from time to time, holding your month or even when it shows that it takes you everything to not get up to run laps around the house.

You know he likes to have close while reading session but sometimes it just physically hurt you. And he makes fun of you every times. His laughter filling the whole place, light and so annoying but you can’t help but tag along after a few second.

You can’t even give it back because he doesn’t react at all, annoying you a lot, but you accepted it in the end.

All of that with the tea he kindly makes every single time you two sat down in his living room to read.

Rin + him reading for you or vice versa

depends on who’s tired

but he reads better than you

still find it calming when it’s you

“ “I’m just going to do it. Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.” “Huh ?” I asked –” you quoted, reading one of your favorite book to Rin. He was laying his head in your lap, kind of falling asleep from time to time but still catching up when something bothered him in your tone or the story.

“She’s annoying with her maze.” he noted.

“I think he is to not get it.” she answered, sounding a little offended. “He’s annoying all the time in fact. I get her, but I don’t get him.” she added before going on. Rin knew that, he heard about it enough, yet he never once read it and the last time you said you felt like reading it again, he asked you to read it to him.

You two don’t really share any tastes in books, but you still kind of enjoy it when the other is reading it for you. You usually get fed up by his reading and Rin found yours comforting, but maybe it’s just your voice. He likes the fact that you try, maybe a little too hard, to show the emotions. It’s deep too, in some kind, and he knows you’re especially close, if he may say, to the things you read. It’s like discovering you again.

i hope you liked it !

it's me, i collect rocks. the book y/n's reading in rin's one is Looking for Alaska by John Green.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #hcs #reo x reader #reo headcanons #nagi x reader #nagi hcs #rin x reader #rin hcs #sae x reader #sae headcanons #karasu x reader #karasu hcs

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wheresarizona · 21 days

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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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haet-sal · 11 months

Text

Maniac au // jiung x reader SMUT

You should turn back to your rat pack, tell 'em I'm trash

Tags: jiung x reader, non-idol school!au, band kid/misfit jiung, popular pretty aesthetic!reader, reader has female parts but isnt referred in feminine terms Warnings: ROUGH smut, basically a HATEFUCK, 'slut' 'whore' spitting in your face, CHOKING (yeah…), begging for his cock (yeah…), thanking him for fucking you, fingering + blowjob ONLY, cumplay + swallowing it, DUMBIFICATION I think??? Not 2 sure :/

Popular kid!YN broke up with Jiung out of… peer pressure. But of course they still want him back 💔💔 and Jiung will only let them have him on his terms.

2.5k

~~~

You clutch your purse to your side as you wait on the bus stop bench outside of school, occasionally looking back towards the school to see if he was coming. It’s been 2 hours since you’ve waited outside; Jiung was practicing for his band in the music room, and you knew he would come out at 4…

Suddenly you see it, his head of intricately dyed hair, with his bandmates Keeho, Shota and Jongseob trailing behind him. They got on their bikes, and as they rushed to leave the campus, you could tell by Jiung’s face that he did not look happy.

You didn’t look happy either, and it’s not because you had been waiting for too long; it’s because of Jiung.

Ever since you’d broken up with him, and things just hadn’t been right… you just needed to talk to him. And you knew he had to feel the same way, you just weren’t happy without each other.

“Oh hell no,” Jiung muttered loud enough for you to hear, as you ran after his bike. “Guys, go go go—fast!” He started driving the others like you were a bear chasing them.

“Jiung, wait!” You hated this right now, this was putting a damper on your pretty little outfit, and your heels weren’t made to run in. It’s just so insulting, that you had to run after him.

“Keeho,” Jiung demanded with a whine, “pedal faster!”

“What is wrong with you?” Keeho carped at Jiung, “just talk to them!”

“Do I look like I’m in a talking mood?” Jiung started pedaling so fast he’d surpassed Soul, far away from you now. You felt like crying, but you couldn’t just give up. You’d waited two long hours in the scorching sun…

Okay so in retrospect, it was a bad idea to tell your friend to tell your boyfriend that you’re breaking up with him. But Intak had stressed it to you that he could absolutely do it in the most humane way, just trust him!

Now you’re reflecting on your actions! Why won’t Jiung just listen? You get that he’s mad, but he has to.

You decide you would find him at home anyway, if all else fails, and sure enough, there he is, home alone—perfect.

If only he’d open the door.

“Jiung,” you stomped on his carpet outside, “just please open the door? We need to talk.”

“Why don’t you just send Intak to speak for you again? It worked great last time!” he yelled back from the other side of the door.

“Jiung! I’m trying to fix this, do you know how long I waited for you at school today?”

He opened the door. Yanked you inside by the sleeve of your cardigan. “You’re embarrassing the neighbors—how do you expect me to even look at you? After everything that happened?” he demanded. “You sent Intak to break up with me, you couldn’t even do it yourself.”

“It was a mistake,” you stressed, “I thought Intak could explain it better—”

“Because he’s the one telling you to break up with me, isn’t he?”

“Well…” you stammered. “Not just him. Kazuha said… things.”

“They’re always saying things.” Jiung was exasperated. You really started to believe he didn’t want to see you after all. “Zuha and Intak don’t like me, Y/N, you know that. I didn’t think you’d finally start listening to them, though, I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you!” You throw your arms around him, but he stiffened himself, unable to conform into your hug, so you just cup his thin cheeks in your hands. “I’m so sorry, I hate that I did this—”

“I can’t believe I was with someone like you. I should have known before we started dating, you’re just as mean and superficial as Kazuha and everybody else.” You shake your head, eyes filling up with defiance. No, no, no— “Did you tell Intak what to say? Because his speech said, you’re tired of me, I don’t deserve you, and there was that part where he insulted my whole family for being poorer—”

You gasped. “I didn’t know he said that—Jiung, oh my god, i’m so fucking sorr—”

“Of course you don’t know!” He swatted at the wall in anger. “I don’t know what’s worse—that you just let him say whatever to get me off your back, or if you’d actually given bulletpoints to why you’re breaking up with me—1) Jiung’s a freak, 2) Jiung plays band, making him a loser—”

“I don’t think that!”

“Well, Intak said everything you’d ever need to say to me, so please leave now.” he started pushing you out the door, but you push back.

You claw at him, making him close the door, keeping you inside. “Jiung! Wait! I told Intak to finish the job because I couldn't even bare looking at you-because I really cared about you!”

“'Finish the job' are you kidding me? What am I, a mortal combat final boss?” Jiung, with a glance at you, saw your shaking pupils, pretending to rain down tears, and yielded. He sighed. “Fine… fine. I'll agree that you were confused, Intak and Kazuha are assholes that influenced you—”

“I went insane,” you say, “momentarily. Can we please get back together?”

Jiung looked at you with scrutiny. “You were an asshole,” he says finally. “You promise you'll never act that way again?”

“Yes!” You swear there's happy tears forming at the edges of your eyes as you approached him, wanting to dive into his arms like you always used to—but he holds you at arm's length.

“You promise you won't be a jerk again, and we can date, and you won't let those assholes you call your friends get into your head?”

“Well…” you stammered. “Well… Intak and Zuha can’t know we're together again.”

Jiung's eyes flashed with some sort of animalistic rage. “What?!” Before you can explain, he starts to bellow with laughter. “Oh, I’m your dirty secret? You want me to kiss you behind closed doors, it’s sooo shameful to fuck me, is that it? Do you believe everything Intak tells you about me? That I’m some worthless, nerdy freak, not even on your level?”

“Of course not!”

“Why do you even want me back if I’m such a loser, huh? Oh, what, because you want what you can’t have?”

“Ji…” you swallow, looking into his wild eyes. It seemed you’d only dug yourself into a deeper hole with every word you speak. “I really do love you. It’s just complicated…”

“My feelings aren't complicated,” he says plainly. “I fucking hate you. Get out my house—”

“No, Jiung!” You grapple, grabbing at his arms which are forcing you out, like you're in a soap opera. “I’m sorry! Please, just give me a chance to fix it!”

Because you’re holding onto his arms, there’s not much he can do with your weight hanging on—but he yanks his hand back, and you keep holding on, which makes him and you both topple over each other, onto his parents’ strawberry colored carpet.

He’s angry that he even has to be lying on top of you, you didn’t deserve to be close to him, and he’s right—you were a coward and a superficial asshole, but if you could just fix it—you grab his face and pull him in a kiss, desperately wanting him close to you, his familiar tongue in your mouth.

But Jiung immediately pulls away, hands pinning you down so you can’t sneak attack him again. “You’re so desperate, it’s pathetic, Y/N.” But his hands slowly went under the bottoms you were wearing, like it was just magnetic, chemistry, Jiung can’t keep his fingers off Y/N.

You encourage the roaming of his hands all over your body, in fact guiding them so they could feel the best parts of you, remind him what he still loves.

You guide his hands all over your body, under your little pink bra, which he was stretching out as his hand went under it to grope you until your nipple hardened, while his other hand squeezed your butt, nails digging in like into juicy forbidden fruit.

Jiung’s breath hitches as you watch; he’s shaking with anger, but he still wants you, and you hope he could just fuck the rage out and love you like before.

Jiung feels you over your panties, there’s so much hesitation in his expression—like he’s gambling with his pride letting you fuck him again. But he quickly gives in, pushing the wet fabric to the side and wets his fingers, before carefully prodding your entrance, while his thumb rubbed over the clit on top.

You moan and scoot backwards at the sudden feeling, it felt like discovering your clit for the first time, so much feeling in one swipe of his thumb. You whined, "Jiung…"

“Shh,” he snapped. “You better not get smart right now.”

His finger entered you, just the middle one, taller than your own, which curled up and hit you exactly where it felt heavenly, making you moan.

When it wasn't enough, he added a second one, and loved the way your walls felt so tight and warm around them, and with the volume of both digits, he started to pump in and out of you, each thrust coating his fingers in more slick, white on his digits.

You threw your head back and called for his name, fingernails digging into the carpet.

"Good?" He prodded.

You nodded, rocking your hips into him until he was knuckles deep.

"Words," he demands.

"Yes, so good, so, so good, oh, Jiung…" you gave your best pornographic moan, still on a mission to seduce him back.

“What was that you were telling Intak? I’m a nerd with fingers that are good for math and not much else?”

“Jiung…” You could scream, but you focus on your breathing.

“You better be running back to Intak telling him how well I fuck you.” Oh, he's mad… Yes you get that he's mad, but he's actually really mad. “Slut,” he snarled, “it’s almost like you have no fucking shame in you-and look, you’re tight around my fingers, little slut gonna cum?”

You mewled, hard, pushing him back, not willing to take any more humiliation. But it still scared you that he might stop and never fuck you this way again, because, goddammit, no one fucks you like Jiung does.

You grow perturbed, but his thumb against your clit just made a dumb little bimbo out of you, so you jut your lips out in a pout, eyebrows furrowed. “J-Ji… kiss… kisseu…”

Instead of showering you in a million soft kisses like he used to on the good days, Jiung growls at you again, and with the curl of the corner of his lips, he spits on your needy mouth.

"You'll swallow it if you want me to make you cum," he commands, so you do as he demands. He’s holding your orgasm ransom.

It’s wet, you know you’re dripping all over his carpet and his fingers, and it feels like relief but you still feel… empty. You need Jiung so bad.

You had a sweet, pure relationship that you could count the number of times you had sex on your fingers-meaning not that much-and he'd never fucked you like he hated you, so it makes you nervous… but Jiung understands exactly what you want from him once your gaze lands on his crotch.

"You look pathetic right now," he says. "Tell me how much you want my cock now, and maybe I'll consider fucking you."

You glare up at him. “N-no… you wouldn't… you wouldn't just walk away, you were gonna fuck me anyway.”

He scoffs. Suddenly his fingers are out of your wet cunt, and he wipes the slick digits on your bare thighs. "Try me, Y/n."

No nicknames, no softness. He starts to walk away.

You crawl up, on all fours, on your knees, grabbing at his pants. "W-wait! Please!" Now you’re really begging, on your knees even, rather than lying on your back-you'd made it more humiliating for yourself.

"Please, Ji! I-I'm so sorry, and you know I love you!"

"Love me?"

"I do! I do love you, I just-"

"Do people dump the people they love through second-hand?”

“I—Ji! Please! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it! I’ll beg like a dog—”

“Shhh.” He’d lost that rage in his eyes, replaced by a calm storm that brewed in the dark pupils. “You’ve swallowed my spit, I think you’ve surpassed patheticness.” He nods at you, so you think you’ve both reached an agreement—you reach out and pull his pants down, the baggy sweatpants coming off easily. He's more than semi-hard from seeing your cunt, but it’s not like he needs you, or even wants you.

“Do you think your pussy deserves my cock?” He asks. “Honest question, really: do you think that?”

You falter. “N-no… no, you deserve… better…”

You see his gaze soften as he looks at you, and you almost think he’d kiss you, but he just reaches forward and pets your head. "Go on, then," he told you. "Go ahead, suck my cock that you don’t deserve."

You stared up his cock for a second, almost in adoration, before you realized what you were meant to be doing, and immediately took it in your warm mouth, tongue wrapping around the underside softly like trying to not break a thin candy.

Jiung gathered your hair out of your face and into a ponytail, as if he werent even affected by your warm mouth around him. "I always did like your hair like this, no matter what Zuha says about letting your hair down," he says wistfully. "You’re such a little dummy. You do everything they tell you to do."

You moaned around his cock, wanting to speak, but the way he was hardening on your tongue meant that he did want you, and you didn’t want to lose that.

"Dating me was, what? The one individual choice you made for yourself? Poor Y/n, they couldn't let you have that. Now you've lost me, and yourself."

He's way too deep, you feel your own spit and his precum dripping down your throat, it’s disgusting but you loved it, loved having Jiung come apart for you like this. You were the only one he wanted to fuck this way, you had to be!

You were tearing up, you didn’t know if it were from his words or your gag reflex straining itself. But you put more work into sucking his cock, pumping it with your hands like you knew would get him cumming down your throat.

"Stop."

He's almost there. You can feel him pulsating in each quivering vein.

"I said stop," Jiung says sternly, pushing your head back with one finger on your forehead. You stop, mouth still wide open, tongue out, like you've seen in all those amateur movies.

Jiung's cum starts to spray white unto your tongue, as he pumped it, and you take it all with a hum. More, more! You hoped he'd finally show you some love at the end of it, but…

He thumbed away your tears with a fake coo. "I gave you my cum, what do you say?"

"Th-thank you…"

"See," Jiung starts to say, "pretty little dummies can be taught, after all."

He stuck his fingers down your tongue, swirling the cum and spit around. "I think you should go, if you stay any longer I might start to feel bad."

He helps you fix your dislocated bra, and the too, and your sopping wet panties he just takes off and throws into his room, they were too wet to wear, anyway. You start to ask if you were back together, if things could be okay again, but he repeatedly shuts you down.

“Go back to your rat pack and tell them I at least fucked you good one last time,” Jiung speaks in low mutters, like he’s too good for you to hear his voice properly.

You missed all of him, especially his voice. He used to be so gentle with you, never once cursing…

“I’m done with you.”

Eyes teary from gagging, you reach out for a piece of his shirt, crying. “Please, no, Jiung—”

“That’s enough,” he says decisively, “we’re over.”

He doesn’t push you away, but he does leave the front door open, where anyone from the porch could see you kneeling on the carpet, eyes filled with tears. It hurt your heart, but you couldn’t be more humiliated than right now, and you gave up, scared of what he’d do if you stayed.

But you did love him, you wanted to say it to him a thousand times now, over and over again, as if that would fix all your mistakes.

#jiung smut #p1harmony smut #p1h smut #p1harmony imagines #jiung x reader #jiung imagines #jiung fic #p1harmony fic #p1h fic #p1h imagines #kpop smut #p1harmony x reader

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 10 months

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(Genshin Impact) Jean, Eula, and Rosaria's S/O being terrible at handling kids

ENOUGH ABOUT CHILDREN'S RIGHTS, IT'S TIME TO TALK ABOUT CHILDREN'S WRONGS Okay before you kill me, that's a joke. This is in regards to a lot of posts of reader usually dealing with kids in a great way like a good dad/mom. So this is for me the folks who have no idea how to interact with kids. Like, I'm talking THIS kinda level of bad with dealing with kids:

Jean has always known how to speak to kids thanks to growing up with Barbara. Though she is usually a bit more formal than she needs to be, every one of the kids thinks she's the nicest lady in Mondstadt.

It warms her heart.

S/O on the other hand always had raspberries blown their way by the kids, even when she's with them.

She's gotten reports of S/O accidentally making kids cry by trying to help. Specifically, there was one child named "Timmie", who S/O accidentally made angry by scaring his pigeons away.

S/O tried to make things better by feeding ducks, but apparently something went terribly wrong which resulted in duck casualties.

Though nothing will top the moment when she was enjoying a date with S/O and had a kid walk up to her and ask:

(Child) "Miss Jean, why are you dating a jerk like S/O?"

Which made her choke on her drink.

She has always thought about having kids herself when things settled down, but clearly S/O needed to learn how to not provoke them.

Even if it was accidental.

Despite the adults disliking Eula, many children adored her. Something she was surprised by herself.

That being said, many approved of her but not S/O.

Apparently they just didn't like S/O...That was it. Not really a reason beyond that. Well, at least she could understand that feeling.

She can't help but feel bad for S/O everytime she witnesses it.

(Child) "We dropped our ball!"

(Eula) "Ah, one moment-"

S/O picked up the ball and was prepared to throw it back to them.

(S/O) "Here you go!"

(Child) "...Uh, that's okay. You can keep it Miss Eula. Come on, let's go!"

The kids looked disgusted by S/O's presence and quickly ran off, making Eula look sympathetically at them.

(Eula) "...I suppose we do need to balance each other out since we're both hated by one half of Mondstadt..."

Rosaria wasn't great with kids herself. Her resting face was enough to make them flee in terror.

That's probably for the best, considering her true line of work. Besides, there was much better sisters to talk to the little tykes anyway.

That being said, she finds it hilarious how much kids seem to hate S/O. They always seem to scowl at them whenever they pass by and are called things like "poopybutt".

Rosaria finds it doubly hilarious whenever S/O attempts to calm them, they end up making them even more upset by having them stomp off and getting glares from nearby sisters.

Best of all, she didn't even have the reputation S/O does among the kids of Mondstadt.

(Rosaria) "Jeez, what'd you do to piss them off?"

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #jean gunnhildr x reader #eula x reader #rosaria x reader #jean gunnhildr #eula lawrence #rosaria genshin impact

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thenbecauseggoes · 3 months

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A/N: I think im lowkey back??? guys this took soooo long to finish and im ngl i kinda love it. but i also have lost like a tonnnn of motivation to write for Evan, im in a bit of a 1975 era... so if u guys like them feel free to send in some recs lololol. kk love uuuuu

warnings: panic attack (kinda), oral (f receiving), pnv, unprotected sex (plsss use protection lolz), lmk any i missed

WC: 1288

based on this request

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All I Need To Hear

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It wasn’t that you were entirely insecure, it was just a crazy party. A crazy party that Evan brought you as his girlfriend to. In front of paparazzi and other actors. To make things even worse, you were his first girlfriend since he split with Emma Roberts. You loved Emma, had nothing against her, but people certainly didn’t like you because of her. You could practically already see the comments on Twitter saying stuff like you were a knockoff Emma or just a rebound. You could even see the comments saying that Evan was a creep for dating someone so young. It wasn’t like you were terribly young. You were 22 and could make your own decisions, and you didn’t find Evan weird for loving you, but people are crazy.

An arm sneaking around your waist grounds you back to reality, Evan was engaging in conversation with some other actor. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes and your breath started to shorten. To stop yourself from embarrassing yourself or Evan you excuse yourself from the conversation and walk to the restroom. Upon walking in you realize it’s just a little room so you lock the door and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was so nicely done for the event, you realize you have a bit of mascara smudged around your eye. ‘Oh god, was that there when they were taking photos?’ you think. Brushing it off as just a silly thought. You just let the tears freely fall from your face and into the sink. Eventually opting to grab a paper towel in an attempt to not ruin your makeup.

Suddenly the door to the bathroom rattles, startling you. “I’m in here” you choke out, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“Baby, are you alright?” the other voice said. Oh god it was Evan.

“I’m fine” you attempt to say without your voice cracking despite tears continuing to well up in your eyes at an alarming rate.

“Let me in,” Evan says again, worried clearly in his voice. You timidly open the door and let him in when he turns around and locks it again. He notices your tear stained face and immediately rushes to grab a paper towel and dry your face. “Can I hug you?” you nod again and he throws his arms around you, holding you tight to his chest.

“They hate me Evan” you choke out finally after what felt like forever.

“Who does?” Evan pulls you back to look in his eyes, he's worried someone hurt you clearly.

“All those people, I'm too much. They all hate me because of Emma and like my age and I just know they do,” you speak through a sob.

“Oh honey,” Evan coos, rubbing small circles onto your back, “nobody hates you. I was just talking to people and they agree you’re so great.” His words help to settle you down and you stop crying. “Come on baby, let's go home” He says, grabbing your hand.

“I don’t wanna ruin your time at the party though,” you really don’t want to make him leave, these things are important.

“I wanna leave anyways, come on, please, can we go home,” you nod feebly and follow him out of the party.

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You walk into your shared apartment and immediately make a beeline for the bedroom, dying to take off your dress. You’re halfway done getting undressed before you feel arms snake around your waist and open mouth kisses being placed to your throat. “Evan,” you trail off, leaning into his touch.

“Let me take care of you baby,” he moans against you, “please.” You nod to give him permission and he drags you to the bed, laying you down gently on the bed. He's working down your body with kisses that ignite your skin. Goosebumps rise on every spot he touches, taking off your dress leaving you in just your bra and panties. “Been dying to do that ever since you showed me that dress baby,” he speaks softly against your skin. You whimper under him as he removes his dress shirt, casting it onto the floor beside your dress. He crawls up onto the bed and mouths at your breasts, sneaking his hand around you to undo the clasp on your bra. He throws it onto the floor as soon as it’s off, letting out a groan at the sight before leaning down and taking one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking.

He waits until you’re practically begging him to just do something until he’s kissing down the valley of your breasts and down the rest of your body. Once he gets to your panties he's pulling them down your legs to join the pile of clothes on the ground. He looks up at you for a sort of silent permission to let him in and you give a nod. He wastes no time in licking a broad stripe up your cunt and attaching his lips to your clit, making you moan out in pleasure. You’re practically screaming his name already and he's barely done anything. He brings one of his fingers up to your entrance and slowly pushes it in, leaving you to squirm and writhe under him. He groans into your pussy, the vibrations sending you over the edge.

“Evan- I- fuck- i’m gonna,” you whimper out again.

“Come for me baby,” Evan groans as you come undone and come all over his face. He groans, coming up to kiss your lips, letting you taste yourself on him. You moan at the taste and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. “Can I fuck you now?” He asks, sheepishly almost.

“Please,” you smile onto his lips as he undoes his belt buckle. He unbuttons his pants and takes his cock out of his boxers. He's rock hard, leaning down to your ear he whispers.

“See what you do to me baby?” He kisses the shell of your ear, you’re not above begging but you certainly don’t want to let up so easily, luckily he makes an easy decision for you by suddenly pushing into you. “So wet,” he breathes out.

“Only for you baby” you whimper

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers before thrusting into you, he connects your lips together, swallowing any moans or whimpers you have left. He disconnects your lips to leave marks on your neck, you squirm your hips and whimper loudly. “Shhh, it’s okay baby, I got you” he says gently. Holding you even closer he thrusts harder, snaking two fingers down to rub at your clit. You cry out and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Evan I can’t-” you trail off

“It’s okay baby, i’m right there with you” he smiles as he kisses you. You both come undone with moans filling up the room. You stay like that for a moment, just basking in it. A dusty blush covers Evan’s face and you swear he’s never looked so beautiful. “Can I pull out honey?” he asks as you nod, wincing at the emptiness that follows. Evan comes back into the room with a damp washcloth and uses it to wipe your legs, apologizing profusely when he has to clean your ruined cunt. He kisses your legs and throws the dirty cloth in the hamper, he hands you a large t-shirt and picks you up to put it on you.

“Love you Evan” you say, exhausted and letting your head fall onto the pillows.

“Love you too baby” he plants a kiss on your lips and throws an arm across your waist to hold you in place before you both drift off to sleep

✮ my recs are open

✮ masterlist

✮ taglist

#evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters x reader #ahs smut #tate langdon #tate langdon x reader

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alwaysaslutforfic · 1 year

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Tsukki Headcanons ❤️ - NSFW

Just some musings on my favourite Sendai Frogs middle blocker ☺️

Warnings: nothing super explicit. Mentions of sending nudes, hair pulling, and oral sex

Minors keep away from the cut and DNI!

Beta readers? Pft

Listens to any and everything but with a purpose 👌🏾. Ask him for a recommendation in any genre and he’ll give you a top 5 tier list. Has playlists arranged by mood, genre, vibe and occasion (he even has one for you that he will literally never tell you about but plays often. He just tells you it’s his favourite mix). Dude is highkey a music snob. Like he’ll listen to a song in any genre but it better be a fucking ✨S tier song✨ or he will Judge. Will never concede the aux cord.

Meanest tutor ever. Will have you crying at the kitchen table asking the same question till you get it right. “If Johnny has 5 apples! 😤” typa tutor. But his notes are amazing and he’ll always lend them without question.

We already know how I feel about clingy Tsukki. But let me reiterate: this man is obsessed with being in your personal space. Like ”I’m gonna go take a shower.” ”….. without me? 😒”

But he also respects your space when you need it. Just don’t be gone too long or he’ll get lonely. He’s highkey touch starved.

An impeccable driver. And unreasonably hot while doing it. I’m talking hand on thigh, arm on headrest when reversing, will do your seatbelt HOT. And you’re his favourite passenger princess. Tsukki refuses to let anyone adjust your seat. If they’re feeling cramped they’re more than welcome to sit in the back, or even better, walk.

A great cook. He lets you be the taste tester when you cook together. If you can’t cook this is the one time he has an amount of patience teaching you. He is, however, a horrendous baker. Tried to make you valentines day chocolates and you had to throw out the tea towels cos they somehow ended up singed. You laughed till you cried he’d have been hurt about it if you weren’t so beautiful

Likewise, his actions speak louder than his words when it comes to affection. Obviously he compliments you and tells you he loves you, but only on special occasions like birthdays, christmases and blowing your back out ten ways till sunday. But mostly he’ll show you how much he cares by treating you like royalty. Carries your bags while calling you weak, says ‘no’ every single time you ask for a favour but does it anyways, takes you for walks to your favourite ice cream shop and pays for both of you while you bitch about a character in your dumb show that he hates (read: binges with you and gets invested in)

A slip it in while you watch a movie kinda dude. At this point the Netflix subscription is for show. There is literally no point in trying to watch something with him because your legs will be over his shoulders way before the halfway mark.

Much like his actions speaking louder than words, he’s willing to try anything once if you suggest it. This has led to a very interesting bedroom life. There were obviously things that you both decided weren’t for you, but Tsukki would do anything to please you even if he’d never confess it. Once you asked for a personalised dildo so you could have his dick whenever you wanted as a joke. It was there by next week.

Loves fucking you in public. You guys are banned from THREE different lingerie stores. You’re 65% sure he only takes you out so much so he can find somewhere to fuck you, since it’s how most of your dates end. The Karasuno gang clocked you two on a club night when Noya and Tanaka took a badly timed trip to the bathroom. They are constantly embarrassed when you two go missing for half an hour and return dishevelled.

Send. Him. Nudes 😩 Especially when he’s busy. He sends them back and holy shit are they art personified. He heard “don’t send dick pics, send cumshot vids with the sound on” and boy did he run with it in the best of ways. Has a password protected folder for all the filth you send each other.

Speaking of nudes, his dick is so pretty. He doesn’t even manscape. It’s just long and slightly curved with just the right amount of hair. Also so much pre-cum. He was actually a little embarassed by it until he saw how much you loved licking him clean.

Pull his hair and listen to him moan. If you pull it hard enough when he’s close he will just cum. He definitely wasn’t embarrassed the first time it happened. Now it’s sort of a game to see if you can use it to get him off when he’s going down on you.

He’s reconciled with the fact that he has a volleyball brain. Seeing you at his games, and feeling your eyes on him as he jumps blocks is like foreplay to him. It’s always a race to see how quickly he can get you naked and under him after a match.

I will undoubtly have more thoughts on this, because I spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking about Tsukishima Kei

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #tw.smut #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #tsukki x y/n #tsukki smut #haikyuu fluff #tsukki thirst #hq fluff #hq #haikyuu #hq tsukishima #hq tsukki

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nicksnosering · 2 months

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I Hate Myself For Loving You Pt. 3

PT 1 PT 2

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night air was cool and biting against the wetness trailing down my inner thighs, and I marveled in the freedom I felt from such an uncharacteristically bold move I’d made.

My phone buzzed in my purse, and I let it ring out three times before finally picking up on the fourth call.

I didn’t get the chance to say hello before I heard him yelling in my ear.

“What the fuck? You’re actually fucking kidding me. My brother? You’re disgusting. You’re actually the most despicable human being alive—“

He kept going for another few minutes until I heard the sound of him breathing angrily into the phone, signaling he was done.

“Alright, Chris. I’ll level with you. Yeah, maybe me hooking up with your brother wasn’t exactly the nicest thing I could’ve done, but you and I both know you’re not stupid enough to be confused about why I did it.”

My heels clicked against the sidewalk as I walked, punctuating my sentence for me. I’d never felt so liberated, so free, so—

“I hope it was worth it considering I’m never going to touch you again.”

My heart fell to my stomach.

Of course I’d wanted to make him mad. I’d wanted to see him seething, undeniably jealous and unable to hold back from admitting it any longer. He loved me the way I loved him, I know he did. Does.

With the alcohol still coursing through my system, my mouth opened before my brain could catch up, my words coming out far bolder than they’d usually be.

“I’d never want you to touch me again.”

He scoffed. “I’ll level with you,” he sneered, throwing my words back in my face. “Your slutty little ass can’t stay away for longer than a day, maybe two if you’re feeling especially bitchy right now. I need you to listen to me, because I’m only saying this once. I’m not coming back this time. When you call me crying because you realize how badly you fucked up, I can promise you I won’t pick up. So you better pray to God it was worth it, because I am not going to fuck you. Ever. Again.”

A laugh bubbled up out of my throat, my head swimming slightly as his words only really half sunk in. My eyes rolled and I shook my head as a grin crept its way onto my face.

“See you soon, Chris.”

——————

Once I was inside my front door, I kicked off my heels and headed straight for bed, not bothering to get out of my dress or take off my makeup. Tonight was exhausting, and I could already feel the headache starting to come on, signaling a raging hangover in the morning.

I’d almost been asleep when my phone started buzzing again. My heart lurched, shocked that he’d given up so quickly and was already reaching back out.

Except it wasn’t him.

“Hello?” I said, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hey,” Matt breathed out. “I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. I couldn’t find you anywhere when I went back downstairs, so I assume you and your friends must’ve left.”

I smiled softly and warmth spread throughout my body. “Yeah, I’m home. Thank you for checking, that’s really sweet of you. Did you make it back okay?”

“Yeah, walking through my front door now. I’m sorry again about Chris, he’s not usually that…”

“Intense?” I supplied.

“We’ll go with that. Anyway, I just wanted to call and check in on you. I also wanted to say that I had a great time tonight, and I’d love to see you again if you’re up for it.”

The gears in my mind started turning, still feeling half-tipsy and fully spiteful. “Actually, I’m off work tomorrow, and I’ll probably be up for a few more hours anyway. You’re welcome to come over and continue the party here.”

“Oh,” he said, an air of surprise to his tone. “Um, yeah. That sounds good. Text me your address?”

“See you soon.”

I sent over the details and swiftly threw off the covers, climbing out of bed and heading straight for the bathroom. My reflection was rough. There was eyeliner smudged in rings around my eyes, and my hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days.

When I heard the first knock at the door, I’d managed to wash my face and get my hair under control, swapping my dress for some sweatpants and a tank top in an effort to look sexily indifferent.

I swing the door open to reveal Matt, still dressed in the same clothes he was in at the party. I suppress a grin at the thought of him rushing out of the door after our phone call and step aside to let him in.

“Hey,” he says, a soft smile on his face as he steps through the threshold into my apartment.

“Hey,” I respond.

He follows me into the kitchen, and I pull a bottle of cheap vodka out of the fridge, setting it on the counter as I look for two shot glasses. “Feel like keeping up the buzz?” I call over my shoulder.

“Oh, always.”

I pour us two shots and we both slam them quickly, shivering as the rubbing alcohol taste sets in. “Sorry, I only buy the cheap shit.”

“All good,” he smiles, stacking our empty shot glasses and leaning forward on the countertop. “This is a nice place.”

I glance around at my cheap one-bedroom apartment, taking in the chipping paint on the walls and the out of date shag carpet that’s peeling up at the corners of the living room. I turn back to him with a raised eyebrow. “No it’s not. This place is a shithole.��

He laughs loudly, raising his shoulders in apology. “Sorry, just trying to break the ice and make conversation. It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“Real smooth,” I tease, circling the countertop and coming to stand next to him. “Who says we need conversation?”

He takes my not-so-subtle hint, wrapping his arms around my waist and giving me a gentle smile before leaning in and softly capturing my lips with his own.

Matt could not be more different from his brother. Chris is all rough grabs and harsh teeth and aiming to get to his end goal, whereas Matt is more soft touches and gentle kisses and putting your needs before his own.

I can’t help but wonder if there’s a way to meet in the middle.

His tongue lightly traces over my neck, placing a soft kiss just below my ear before sucking gently, like he’s scared to leave a mark. My fingers come up to wind into his hair, pulling gently and reveling in the low moan he produces before sucking a little harder.

I inhale sharply when he leans back and blows, the cool air sending a rush of goosebumps down my spine. His hand starts slipping lower on my body, finding the waistband of my sweats and pushing inside. His fingers swirl over the crotch of my panties, and he pushes them aside to rub lightly over my clit, the sensation sparking all of my nerve ending and causing me to arch forward into his touch.

“Fuck, Matt,” I whisper as I dip my head and rest it against his shoulder, gripping his bicep to ensure his arm stays in place. He takes it a sign to speed up, fingers brushing exactly where they need to, and I let out a small whine, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck and entangling my hand in the soft hairs there.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he whispers back, and he slips forward and sinks two fingers into me quickly, pumping them in and out at a slow pace, fingers crooking in the perfect spot with every thrust.

I can hear myself panting and moaning loudly as he works, and I look up and make eye contact, taken completely aback by his features.

There’s a soft smile on his face and a caring light in his eyes, and he just looks so… soft. Like he gives a fuck how I’m feeling. If this is good for me. It’s overwhelming and devastating all at once, and I can’t stop myself from thinking that this must be how Chris would look if he let down his guard and was fully open with me.

My heart twinges painfully in my chest, and I feel slightly guilty for still comparing the two when I should be solely focused on Matt, but these past five months of emotional torture that Chris has been putting me through are embedded in my brain. I can’t seem to separate the two of them no matter how hard I try.

Another precise curl of his fingers causing me to come soaring back to reality, and I lean in to kiss him again, needing to feel his emotions rather than seeing them. The kiss is sloppy, breaking apart each time I pant or moan again, and he moves to place small kisses on my cheek, on my eyelid, on my forehead.

Just as I feel like I’m about to burst into tears from the sheer kindness of his actions, he pulls out and grabs the back of my thighs, picking me up and placing another small kiss on my lips. “Bedroom?” he asks.

“Through the living room, to the right.”

He caries me through my apartment, pushing open the door with his knee and walking inside before laying me gently on the bed. His hands slide down to the waistband of my sweats again, and he hooks two fingers inside, glancing up at me for confirmation. I nod gently and he slides them off my body along with my underwear before climbing onto the bed with me. He hovers over me and reaches up to remove my shirt, leaving me bare and exposed in front of him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, running his hands along my body in a way that’s far from sexual. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, trying to memorize every curve and dip and the softness of my skin. Like he’s praising me. Worshipping me.

I can’t take it any longer, and I yank his shirt over his head and reach down to tear open the button on his jeans, but his hands come down to stop me. I look up in question, and he laughs a little. “Slow down, sweetheart. We don’t need to rush through this, I want to take my time.”

The air leaves my body at his words, watching in a daze as he slides his pants and boxers off in one fluid motion. He leans back over me, head ducking down and tongue flicking out lightly over my nipple. I shiver and moan slightly as he slides his way down to between my thighs, and immediately sets to work lapping at my clit. His fingers come back up to slide into me and my hand flies down to his hair, gripping it tightly as I arch my back off the bed.

“God, yes. That feels so good,” I whine, digging my heels into the bed and scooting forward, trying to push him further inside me. His fingers begin to scissor slightly, and I feel my legs start to shake, so close to the edge but refusing to let myself fall over it yet. “Matt, please. Please, I need you inside me.”

His head pops up and a grin overtakes his face at my begging, but his fingers continue to work inside of me, twisting and arching and making me fall apart beneath him. He pulls them out and rubs slow, lazy circles over my core, watching me intensely. “You sure?”

“Yes, fuck. Please, Matt,” I say, moving my hand to his shoulder and trying to pull him up. He stays rooted where he is and gives me a wink, maintaining eye contact as he leans down and licks a flat stripe over me again.

It’s almost too much, and I let out a mix of a whine and a whimper, trying to pull back. His hands hook under my thighs, pulling me closer and keeping me firmly where I am. He blows again, the rush of air breezing over my clit and I feel my stomach muscles tense. “Matt,” I whine again.

“Okay, okay.” He relents, pulling himself up to settle over me. I feel his tip pressing against my entrance and he leans down, placing another kiss on my forehead before pushing in slowly. I gasp at the feeling, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist and arching up to try to take him in more. “Slow, baby. I want you to feel it all.”

I can’t even form words at this point, utterly wrecked under him from the anticipation. I feel each slow, excruciating inch push in until he’s settled at the hilt, and he pulls back out just as slow before sliding back in. I’ve never been treated so tenderly, and I feel simultaneously too cold and too hot with the way his gaze trails over my face, searching for any sign of discomfort.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, continuing his gentle pace. “Just like that.”

I finally give in, relaxing my entire body and simply allowing myself to feel. His head drops down to nestle against my neck, switching between light sucking and simply pressing his lips there, and I hear my phone buzz on my nightstand. He doesn’t pay it any mind, and I reach over to find Chris’s contact name lighting it up.

I knew he’d give in.

I ignore the text and opt for calling him instead, discarding my phone back on my nightstand as it rings. I watch the screen go black, signaling he picked up, and wrap my arms around Matt’s neck.

“Fuck, Matt. You feel so good,” I moan.

“You sound so pretty, baby. Keep saying my name,” he responds, picking up speed with his thrusts.

My body arches up into his and I pull his hair slightly, making him groan and dig his fingers into my hips. “Harder, Matt, please,” I choke out, turning to suck a spot onto his neck. The thought of him going home and Chris seeing it fuels me along with his noises, and he starts to pound into me mercilessly.

I’m holding on by a thread, and I can feel his legs shaking, a clear signal that he is too. “Cum for me, Matt,” I moan, and we both unravel together, my high-pitched whining turning into a near scream as he mumbles sweet words into my ear.

“Fuck, yes. God, I could stay here forever,” he says, nipping at my earlobe as we both come down. “Your body is so perfect. You’re so beautiful.”

I lean up and press our lips together, sealing his words into my mouth. We lay intertwined, sweaty and panting, and he rubs light circles over my back as his other hand runs its fingers through my hair. I’ve never felt so content after sex, and it’s a feeling I could quickly get used to.

I lean over to check my phone screen and see the call has ended, as well as six new text messages having come in. I flip it over and cuddle back into Matt, placing light kisses on his torso as we start to drift into sleep together.

Chris can wait.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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ro-is-struggling · 1 year

Text

Literally no one asked for this but lately I can't stop thinking about Bucky being shy around a girl he likes. The idea of such a tall, strong, imposing man turning into a nervous mess who can't even look you in the eye drives me crazy. It's the duality of the toughness of his exterior contrasting against the softness and tenderness of his interior that leaves me screaming, crying and throwing up. So I'm gonna write about it!

Rambling under the cut (wc: 2400 This was supposed to be a drabble… ooops).

Read part 2 here!

I imagine that after everything Bucky went through he has a bit of a hard time reconnecting with people. That cheerful, confident boy who had left for war over 70 years ago was long gone and he wasn't sure he could get him back. But he was still trying hard to get better, to regain at least a little of that spirit that had been taken from him. Steve, Sam and Natasha were a great help, as well as Shuri and all those who had assisted in his deprogramming in Wakanda. His new friends were a great support, the firm foundation on which he could begin to rebuild his life. They always pushed him to experience new things, to step out of his comfort zone.

That's how he met you.

It was an accident really. Sam had proposed the idea of going out to celebrate every time they completed a mission. He said it was because they deserved some fun after all that hard work, but Bucky knew it was all an excuse to force him to go out and have contact with people other than them. He tried to get out of it that time, excusing himself by saying he was too tired to go out, but his friends dragged him with them anyway. At the time he had hated them a little for it, but now he couldn't be more grateful.

The bar Sam wanted to go to was closed and by some chance of fate they ended up celebrating their recent victory at the bar where you worked. It wasn't the fanciest place in town, but it was cozy. It was dimly lit and although the music blared throughout the place, it wasn't unbearably loud. One could chat with friends over drinks without having to shout or feel sweaty people brushing against your body every couple of seconds. Bucky liked it, it was the first bar they went to where he really felt comfortable. And he liked it even more when his eyes met your figure behind the counter. There was something about you that called to him. He couldn't explain it in words, but for some reason he was unable to take his eyes off you.

He immediately captured your attention as well. A man like him attracted everyone's attention every time he entered a room. He was tall, strong and imposing. His long dark brown hair covered part of his face, hiding behind the locks a mysterious, calculating look. While his friends talked and laughed among themselves, he was silent most of the time, watching his surroundings carefully, studying the people around him. He looked dangerous, but for some reason you didn't feel intimidated when you felt his gaze on your figure. You were... intrigued. So you put aside what you were doing —which wasn't much really, it was a slow night— and approached his table to take his order.

You were hoping to hear his voice, to discover something more about him through that little interaction —to hear him joke with his friends, for him to give you a corny compliment like most of the men there, maybe catch his name in the middle of a conversation. You would have settled for anything that would have helped you unveil the mystery behind his eyes, any little comment that would have helped you reveal something of his personality so you could satiate your curious mind. But he never spoke to you. He didn't even look at you as his friend ordered a round of drinks for the group. He kept his head down, his eyes glued to his fingers fiddling with a piece of paper on the table. So that night you went home with that mystery man circling around in your head.

You thought you would never see him again, that his deep blue eyes would remain engraved in your memory, his mysterious and penetrating gaze haunting you in your dreams as your mind became obsessed with discovering more of him. And for a while that was the case. But then one day you saw him again, walking through the door of the bar with his imposing stride. You noticed he looked different, his hair was a little longer and a luscious beard adorned his face, adding to his scruffy and mysterious appearance. When your eyes met you felt your heart beat faster, electricity coursing through your body as you felt his intense gaze admiring your figure. But the moment was short-lived, the strange connection between you breaking when he looked away after a few seconds, turning to look for a table.

You were able to find out his name this time, though it wasn't because he told you, but because you'd heard his friends call him 'Bucky' a couple of times. He still didn't speak to you or look at you, at least when you approached his table. You could feel his intense gaze on you as you served other customers. He followed your every move, admiring the contour of your hips as you walked or the way your lips curved upward when your co-worker made you laugh. Sometimes you'd catch him staring at you, your eyes connecting for a few seconds before he'd look away. It was frustrating, but at the same time it left you wanting more. You longed for his arrival with each passing day, watching the door every night in hopes of seeing him come in.

Although it wasn't long before that strange cat and mouse game you seemed to be playing started to annoy you.

Bucky and his friends became regulars, showing up at the bar once or twice a month. And over time you became friends with the whole group except for one, the only one you were really interested in getting to know. Your relationship improved a bit, at least now he talked to you from time to time, but it was nothing compared to the friendships you had formed with Steve, Nat and Sam. You knew Bucky a little better, but that was less because of your relationship and more because you had the opportunity to observe him interacting with his friends. He seemed to become more open with each new visit to the bar, chatting and laughing more freely with his friends than he had the first few times. You also noticed that he no longer seemed to be so aware of his surroundings, allowing himself to relax and get lost in the moment with his friends.

It was nice to see him getting better, letting loose a little more each day. But for some reason that didn't affect the way he behaved with you. You still felt his gaze on you at every minute, but when you approached his table he barely spoke to you. Sam, Steve and Nat always joked with you and asked you about your day, but he barely laughed along and that was if you were lucky. You didn't understand why it was so hard to get through to him, you treated him with the same attention and kindness as the rest of his friends and yet he could barely look at you. It was frustrating and honestly it was starting to piss you off. Who did he think he was to ignore you like that? Did he think he was better than you somehow? Was he too good to talk to someone like you?

One day you got tired of the doubts, of wondering if you had done something wrong or if Bucky was just a self-absorbed asshole, so you expressed your concerns to Steve. "What's the deal with your friend?" you asked him as you poured the drinks he had gone to the bar to order. "Why does he always look down when I'm around? I mean, he barely speaks to me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, no," Steve was quick to say, resting his hand on yours in a comforting gesture. "He's just... a bit difficult sometimes."

"Difficult as in an arrogant asshole who thinks he's better than everyone or-?" you started to say, but Steve interrupted you before you could finish.

"No, he's a great guy. He's just been through a lot."

"Oh," you mumbled, not knowing what else to say. "Is that why he never talks to me?"

"Yeah, just give him some more time, I'm sure he'll come around."

Steve returned to his table with the drinks, leaving you alone behind the bar, processing his words. Neither of you noticed that Bucky was only a couple of feet away from you as you spoke. Maybe if he was a normal person he wouldn't have been able to hear your conversation, after all he was a bit far away and the music coming out of the speakers was a bit louder than usual. But he was not a normal person and that was his problem.

His enhanced sense of listening because of the serum running through his veins allowed him to hear your conversation with Steve and I'd be lying if I said that listening to you say those things didn't make his heart clench in his chest. He supposed you were right, he hadn't been very nice to you all this time, but that wasn't because he didn't like you. On the contrary, he liked you too much and that scared him. He couldn't explain very well what he felt, but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he felt things for you, things he hadn't felt in a long time. It was a strange attraction that called him to you, a force that made it impossible for his eyes to leave you.

He looked forward to the end of missions like no one else, not because he disliked working, but because it meant he could see you. You were his motivation. He longed more than anything to walk through the big doors of the bar and see your smile, he missed it every night he didn't see you. But for some reason he couldn't do anything but duck his head every time you came near him. He didn't understand what was wrong with him and honestly it was driving him a little crazy.

“You like her, Buck,” Steve told him after listening to him explain his situation. His friend had approached him the next morning to talk about you and your concerns. Steve knew there was something between you, a special spark, and he didn't want Bucky to miss his chance because he was afraid to act on what he felt. "You should let her know before it's too late. She kinda thinks you're an asshole."

Bucky knew his friend was right, but how could he? He had nothing to offer you. He was a broken man with a past as dark as the blood stains that covered his hands. He wasn't ready to be in a relationship. Sometimes he thought he never would be. The guy capable of loving and being loved had died the day he was captured in the war so many years ago, he just hadn't realized it yet.

"You have to stop blaming yourself for it," Steve said as he read the doubt in his friend's eyes. "You have to move on. You deserve to have a life, the life that was taken away from you, and I think this is how you can get it back," he added, sliding him a piece of paper with a number and your name scribbled on it in black ink.

Bucky stared at the piece of paper for quite a while, debating whether or not to follow Steve's advice. The more logical part of him, the part that had been to countless therapy sessions, told him that his friend was right. He had been controlled and manipulated by Hydra to do those horrible things. They were the ones who had turned him into a weapon, a killer. He had been trapped in his mind for over 70 years and now that he was finally free it was his turn to decide the course of his life. And he knew Steve —and his therapist— was right, he deserved a fresh start, he deserved to get his life back on track and find happiness.

But guilt... oh guilt paralyzed him. He had spent all this time training his mind to control that voice inside him, but sometimes it still resurfaced. And every time it did it reminded him what a piece of shit he was. He didn't deserve a happy ending, the people he had hurt did and he had taken that away from them. It was an insult to their memory to go on with his life as if his hands weren't covered in blood. And it was naive of him to think that anyone could ever love a murderer like him.

It was a constant struggle in his mind, the two sides of him fighting to win. He liked to believe that most of the time positivity came out on top, but he wasn't so sure about that. He'd had some pretty dark days lately.

Looking at the piece of paper one more time, Bucky decided that he had let fear and guilt paralyze him long enough. Part of getting better and making amends involved facing his fears, overcoming his insecurities and starting over. So he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saved your number, typing a quick message to send before he could get cold feet.

You were enjoying your day off when your phone vibrated on the coffee table. You stretched your arm from the couch to grab it without having to get up, not even bothering to pause the movie you were watching to check the notification. You were sure it was nothing important, but you were pleasantly surprised when you read the message from the unknown number, smiling at the screen like a schoolgirl.

I wanted to tell you that I’m not arrogant, I’m shy. But if you want we can go for a cup of coffee sometime.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes #marver imagines

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cutiepatootie62782 · 3 months

Text

What you do to me ~ M.S

warning: PURE SMUTT minors do not read dom!matt (for most of it)

i’ve been best friends with the triplets since freshmen year of high school when i was seated next to nick in math class and me and him grew into inseparable friends and along with that i made friends with his brothers well more like brother. me and chris bonded well he was like the older overprotective brother i never got to have and well matt he just hates me i think he’s still holding a grudge since i broke up with his old best friend at the end of freshman year .

the only conversations i’ve ever had with matthew ended in an argument and sometimes it hurt enough for me to cry i just can never grasp why matt can’t move on and me and him can have a normal friendship together i know we could cause we have a lot in common more than me and nick and i think that makes me like him much more than i already do. i know matt’s a great guy and having him looking at me with his angry eyes is just so much hotter than knowing he’d be a perfect boyfriend but it makes the fact he hates me hurt much more.

nick🤍

nick🤍: come over let’s watch a movie we miss you!!

me: we as in you and chris

nick🤍: give him time y/n trust me when he caves you guys will be perfect together

me: i wish anyway i’ll be over in like 20

nick🤍: perfect! pick up some mcdonald’s otw?

me: was already planning on it!!

nick🤍: your the best

I started putting on some makeup more than usual i had already curled my hair this morning so i decided to leave it be and i put on my new white langerie set then black leggings that hold my butt just right i never wear tight clothes but i’m feeling different today so i’ll make an exception. i put on a blue fresh love hoodie and headed to my car

little time skip

when i pulled into there drive way i saw nick step out of the house and run towards my car helping me bring the mcdonald’s inside to the boys

when we walked in i saw matt laying on the couch on his phone his hair was a little longer obviously in need of a cut but i liked it long like that, a little stubble and to my shock a light blue fresh love hoodie and black jeans we were.. “twinnin i see” chris says knowing it would piss off matt

matt rolled his eyes and got up and walked toward his room “where are you going matthew?” i asked confused

“i’m going to change” he said annoyed god his voice was so deep i loved it i could feel a wetness between my legs start to form

“anyway y/n i’ve never seen you in leggings your bod looks great #bodgoals” chris said while sticking out his tongue and holding up the peace sign i just rolled my eyes and opened my happy meal

matt’s pov

god i love it when she calls me mathew makes me wanna cream myself right there on the spot and we were twinning unplanned that has to be like a sign i don’t know what i’m saying that’s not true but the one thing i know is true was the statement i just heard Chris yell y/n looks so good with those leggings wrapped tight around her perfect legs and ass anyway i can’t take too long so i throw on a pair of fresh love sweats and a t shirt ik she loves i always see her staring at it and when i’m done i head back out

y/n pov

after a bit we decided to watch the conjuring right before it started matt walked out with a bright pink hershey bear t-shirt and grey fresh love sweats the one outfit that gets me turned on the most is ofc the outfit he decides to wear

“you almost missed the movie we were gonna start without you” nick says

“well i’m here aren’t i? just start the fucking movie” matt says

“ooo tough guy matt has arrived” chris yells but i don’t care abt what there saying all i can think abt is how good he looks i can’t help but stare it’s not even a glance it’s a full blown stare

“y/n stop eye fucking matt” chris says

my cheeks flood with heat “i wasn’t i was just - uh idk - zoned out ig?”

matt chuckles at this “not funny matt” nick says

“it’s kinda funny” matt says

“okay guys wtv i just like that fit” i say i mean it wasn’t a lie i just didn’t include the fact that it turns me on

“yeah okay y/n” matt says

i finally try and focus on the movie but i can feel matt’s stare burning through me probably just trying to make me nervous cause i know he knows i like him

matt’s pov

i knew this shirt would turn her on it pisses me off that i can’t do shit abt it cause we’re in front of my brothers and she doesn’t know how i feel about her so i just stare at her eye fucking her worse than she was earlier but no one gives 2 shits to call me out for it cause they think i hate her which makes this even better on my behalf

y/ns pov

he’s still staring and it’s the only thing i can focus on i don’t even know what’s going on in the movie and i’ve watched it 20 times before all i can focus on is him and the feeling between my legs the only thing i can do at this point is sit up and rub my thighs together but i want him so bad i can’t even think straight

“bro when’s this movie gonna end” chris says annoyed

“like 15 more minutes be patient” nick says

15 more minutes and i’m going to matthews room and convince him to stop hating me i need him to atleast not hate me i also need to be alone with him.

matt’s pov

i see y/n rubbing her legs together she must think i’m an idiot i know she’s horny right now trying to get more friction. it’s probably swollen by now and just the thought of it gets me so..hard. fuck i’m rock hard there’s no way i can fucking hide that without something on my lap so i grab a blanket and pull it on me hoping it will go away soon but near the end of the movie it’s worse it’s so bad it’s physically hurting me so i run to my bedroom hoping to relieve the pain

y/ns pov

matt went to bed early but no one really noticed theres about 5 minutes left of the movie. suddenly nick gets up to go to the washroom

“y/n you sleeping in my room tonight?” chris asks

“no i’m gonna hangout w nick and watch rupaul i will tomorrow night tho!” i say knowing damn well i’m not going to either of there rooms

“okok but can we build lego tmr night then? i bought some lego car sets” chris asks

“bet” i say back

we finish the movie and soon realize nick also went to bed early and not to the bathroom so i peeped my head in the door “hey nick i’m going to build lego’s with chris crash in his room just letting you know!” i say

“okay y/n! see you tmr” nick says

that’s when it’s time to go see matt but i hear some unusual sounds coming from in their “ngh- uh- fuck” it sounded like moans i stuck my head in the room “matt” i say softly

“Y/N FUCK GET OUT” matt yells covering himself under his blanket

“shhh let me talk to you please i’ll be quick” i say

“okay whatever” he says i close the door to let him get dressed and when he gives me the green light to come in i go and sit at the edge of his bed and take a deep breath “matthew why do you hate me look i get i broke up with brayden but that was freshman year! please get over it i wanna have a good friend ship with you please” i say

“you think i’m holding a grudge since you broke up with brayden? i could care less about him he was a major dick and he only got with you cause i liked you.” he says in the softest tone i’ve ever heard

“what? i-“

“i never hated you i just hate the way you make me feel i never felt this way about a girl and i hate it i can’t control myself around you so i act like i hate you so it hurts less. y/n you don’t know what you do to me.” he says cutting me off

“what do i do to you matthew?” knowing exactly what he means

he reaches his hand over to grab mine and brings it to his sweats where i feel his giant bulge i don’t think i’ve felt a dick that big before so my jaw is practically on the floor i give it a squeeze “fuck y/n” he whimpers “i was hoping this was what you were referring to” i say with a little smile before smashing our lips together i pull back so i can get up and straddle his lap then connecting our lips again matt tries to open my mouth with his tongue which i eventually open my mouth our tongues fighting for dominance which matt eventually wins so he flips us over that’s when he bites my bottom lip causing me to moan against him “matt i need more” i beg

“wdym princess” he says playing dumb

“i need you down there” i say

“all you had to do was ask baby” he says smirking

he lowers himself down on the bed and grabs the waistband of my leggings i nod as he pulls them off slowly then throwing them god knows where in his bedroom leaving me in a hoodie and my white lace panties “god y/n your so wet for me” he says smirking

“don’t flatter yourself matthew” i say back

he quickly take off my sweater now leaving me in panties and a bra he slides my panties down and shoves them in his pocket

“wait matt” i say

“what is it do you wanna stop?” he asks concerned

“no it’s just i’ve never exactly done this i mean my fingers but that’s it but don’t be so gentle i can take it” i reply

“oh i’m so glad you told me that i’ll try not to hurt you but i need to stretch you out before is that okay ?” he asks

“okay” i nod

he puts his pointer and middle finger in my mouth i start swishing it around with my tongue until he takes it out and inches it toward the place i desire him the most slowly inserting them both and moving in and out at a good pace

“matt faster please” i managed to get out

he speeds up his pace curling his fingers and hitting my g spot

“your taking my fingers so well baby” he praises

i clench down from his words i start to feel a knot tighten in my stomach i think matt can tell cause he starts speeding up his pace

“cum on my fingers princess” he says

and i do just that he rides me through my high with his fingers and then licks all my juices from them aswell

“as much as i want to cum in your mouth i need you now” matt says

“please” i beg back

matt pulls his pants and boxers off in one swift movement and taking his shirt off after when i finally get a good look at his member i swear my mouth was on the floor “i don’t think that’s gonna fit” i say worried

“hey it’s okay it will it’s just gonna hurt you can still back out now if you want too or if you want to atleast try we can make a code word just in case” he says sweetly

“banana” i say back chuckling at myself

“banana?” he says back confused

“that’s our code word now hurry up i need this please” i say

matt nods and lines himself with my entrance slowy pushing in i wince at the pain but he keeps going half way in until he stops

“your doing so well i’m gonna go in fully and let you adjust it’s gonna be okay” matt assured me

“thank you matt” i say

“what for doing the bare minimum? you deserve it baby” he says back

matt pushes in fully and let’s me adjust “matt i wanna be a sub i want you to be rough i don’t care please” i ask nervous

“i was hoping you’d ask that i’d love to see you be a sub for me” matt says smirking

“whatever” i say back

that’s when matt starts moving not to fast but i wince at the pain and

i scream “MATT FUCK -“

“you know you like it” he reply’s

he wasn’t wrong i loved it

“it’s your fault for being a bitch and giving me attitude” he adds

matt continues these semi-fast thrusts still making me moan out and kissing me from time to time

“faster” i say needing more of him

matt picks up his pace to one making my legs almost shake

“FUCK OMG MATTHEW” i scream again

he grabs my throat pinning me down more to the bed

“stfu your gonna get us caught do you want my brothers to walk in on us?” he says

i nod my head no

“that’s what i thought” he says again

matt still has a hold of my throat and continues to pound into me at an ungodly speed he’s holding my throat enough for me to breath but it’s still so hot seeing him over me like this and that’s when i feel a familiar knot in my stomach wanting to come undone

“you about to cum pretty girl? i can feel you clenching fuck it feels so good cum on my cock like the slut you are” he demands

and just a few seconds later i do as i’m told he rides me through my high and he soon does the same

“oh fuck y/n” he says that and stays in me for a bit longer before pulling out

“omg y/n are you okay did i hurt you at all” he asks

“no i loved it omg” i say back

“okay good baby we’re not going so rough next time i’m sorry let’s get you cleaned up” he says

he picks me up bridal style and carries me to the bathroom to clean me up when we’re done we cuddle and fall asleep in him bed

time skip

“WTFF” chris yells

me and matt jump out of bed

“what we’re you guys doing?” nick asks concerned

“i think we all know the answer to that question” matt says back

“so does this mean you guys are finally together” chris asks

“i’m down if your down” i say to matt

“bet” i reply

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #smut

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drpoisonoaky · 3 months

Text

Lala

When you realize you have a new weapon to make fun of your sister, you have to use it even though for you it isn't a weapon. At least that's how Zuko thinks about it.

Azula: I’m going to kill your friends and my brother.

Katara: Your brother is also my friend.

Azula: But it’s a different crime. And is that what you are worried about in the whole sentence?

Katara: You want to kill them a lot. Nothing new. But don’t.

Azula: Ugh.

Katara:

Azula: At least you could ask why.

Katara: Fine. Why do you want to kill them this time sweetheart?

Azula: I’m going to ignore your tone. They discovered the “Lala”.

Katara: Is another weird tradition of the Fire Nation or..?

Azula: It’s Zuko’s Zuzu.

Katara: Oh that Lala. I think it is cute. But isn’t new, right? Zuko calls you that a lot.

Azula: To them it is. And Zuko is enjoying it.

Sokka: When you come back to the Southern Water Tribe I’m going to force you to do penguin sledding.

Azula: Why would I eve-

Zuko: Hey buddies.

Azula: Don’t call me buddy ever again.

Zuko: Ok Lala.

Sokka: We were-

Sokka: Wait what, Lala? What is a Lala?

Zuko: You know Zuzu?

Sokka: Are you asking me if I know you? Did you hit your head or something?

Zuko: Not dumbass, the nickname. Azula calls me that all of the time.

Azula: We know, Zuzu. So penguin sledding?

Sokka: Forget that. Did he just call you Lala? Can I call you Lala? Oh god the mighty Azula, princess of the Fire Nation…AND WE CAN CALL YOU LALA.

[Azula proceeds to electrocute Sokka]

Zuko: That was unnecessary.

Azula, getting ready to throw another lightning:

Zuko: LALA STOP IT

Aang: Azula really did a great job in the meeting.

Zuko: She’s actually really good but she’s really mean.

Aang: Yeah, although I was thankful when she made all of those councilors shut up.

Azula: My pleasure Avatar. I always love to make a grown up man cry. Ask Zuzu.

Zuko: She certainly does. Especially when I’m in that group.

Aang: Anyway thanks for today. Right?

Zuko: Yes, thanks to Lala now we only have like 5 boring meetings to go.

Aang: Wait.

Zuko: There’s more?!

Azula: Oh no.

Aang, grinning: Did he just call you Lala? That’s so cute.

Azula:

Zuko: See Azula, that's so cute. You should appreciate it.

Azula: I will deal with Zuzu later but if you want to use that word again Avatar let me remind you I already killed you once.

Zuko: If you kill him now Katara would break up with you.

Azula: SHUT UP DUMB DUMB *goes away*

Zuko: That’s worse than Lala. But at least she’s angry for the next meeting.

Aang: The next meeting it’s going to be awesome.

Suki: All of my warriors are spread inside the festival so we are protected.

Zuko: Great. All set then.

Azula: Wait, what about the harbor?

Suki: We are protecting a festival inside the city.

Azula: If I want to attack a festival I would do it through the harbor cause nobody would be there. You bring a few water benders or a Katara and break it all in like 5 minutes.

Suki: I hate to say this but you’re right. Let’s relocate some of the girls.

Zuko: Good job Lala.

Azula:

Suki:

Azula: I’m honestly more angry by the fact you just praise me like a dog than the nickname.

Suki: Yeah Zuko. We’re grown ups.

Zuko: But-

Zuko: Suki, I am giving you a chance to laugh at Azula’s expenses.

Azula: And she’s a grown woman who is doing her job. Shush.

Suki: Yeah Zuko I’m busy now. When I finish I can laugh and use the Lala.

Zuko: It doesn’t feel like a victory.

[After sparring time with Azula]

Toph: I needed that. Being police is awful.

Azula: Well you are a gun for the government.

Toph: You are part of the government.

Azula: Not the government that has you as chief.

Toph: You and I? In the same government? We will have to stop a coup like every day.

Zuko: But unfortunately you both will stop them.

Azula: Of course we will, Zuzu.

Toph: What are you doing here, Zuzu?

Zuko: Came to see why we were hearing two people fight to death on a Wednesday afternoon.

Toph: I was beating a princess’ ass.

Zuko: And also Lala, can you look at these scrolls? I need a second opinion.

Azula: Sure let’s me clea-

Toph: LALA.

Azula: Shit.

Toph: HE CALLED YOU LALA. IT SOUNDS LIKE A FUCKING CHILD SONG.

Toph: ZUZU AND LALA I CAN’T.

[Toph is rolling while she’s laughing]

Zuko: For once, I didn’t say it to bother you.

Azula: For once, I believe you.

Zuko: I think she can’t breathe.

Azula: Whether she dies because she can’t breathe or she feels more relaxed after a good laugh, she deserves it.

Azula: I swear to Agni.

Mai: Don’t be dramatic.

Ty lee: Why are you so angry? It never bothered you so much before, Zuko has been calling you Lala for years. It’s cute.

Azula: I mean it doesn’t bother me if Zuko calls me that. But them. Feels like I’m a joke.

Mai: Lala sounds like a joke.

Azula:

Ty lee: I think what’s bothering you so much is the exclusivity.

Azula: Explain yourself.

Ty lee: When he calls you Lala it comes from your “bond”. When any other person calls you Lala they are probably trying to laugh at your cost.

Mai: That’s deeply complicated with only having 2 lines of information.

Ty lee: I manage all the feelings in this group. I’m well trained.

(many years ago)

Zuko: Why can’t you stop calling me that stupid name?!

Azula: Zuzu, it's cute. Nobody calls you Zuzu. I’m the only one who does it.

Zuko: Oh. That’s…okay you can call me Zuzu but

Azula: What?

Zuko, grinning: I’m calling you Lala cause nobody would call you that.

Azula: WHAT! NO! ZUZU.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #azula #fire siblings #katara #zuko #azutara #kazula #toph #mai #ty lee #sokka #suki #lala and zuzu #this came from the poll #so sorry or you’re welcome #i forgot to post this

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damn-stark · 11 months

Text

Chapter 4 Snow on the beach

Chapter 4 of Moonlight

A/N- last full Cregan chapter, now onto Aemond, let’s see if he can beat Lord Stark

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, FLUFF!, Talks of blood and death, suggestive nfsw, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader, Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- Before 1x08

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*127 AC*

“…we’re hoping for a girl. So if the gods are generous you will have that sister you always wanted, wouldn’t that be great? Having a girl? Daemon also hopes for the babe to be a girl. He said maybe you could choose a name, would you like that? I think it’s a marvelous idea, please write your ideas.”

A girl? Your mother is hoping for a girl again?

Maybe it’s because you’re far away from her and you haven't seen her in four years, but the idea of her having another daughter beside you makes you feel bitter with jealousy.

Is that cruel to feel?

“Anyway, I’m glad you have made friends with Lady Arra, I hate the thought of you being alone so far away. Tell me is she kind? It’s okay to admit if she’s rude and a bitch—”

You snicker softly at your mothers words regardless of your previous feelings.

“—it’ll stay between us. But if you don’t feel comfortable telling your mother then tell your cousins or your brothers. They won’t tell, trust me, Jacaerys never wants to show me what you write to each other now. But, I am glad that you share a bond regardless of distance. I know he misses you as I do, my Sweet. Everyday.

I love you so much.

Love always, your mother, Rhaenyra.”

You put the letter down on the desk and simply smile softly. You don’t cry anymore when you read her letters.

The first two years that's all you could do, cry as you read what your mother, grandmother, brothers, and even what your cousins wrote. You just longed to be by their side again, you missed them terribly. But when your rendezvous with Cregan and you changed to secret forbidden romantic nights, you stopped crying at night and when you read the letters from home.

Now albeit you feel like starting crying again. Is it stupid to feel jealous about her having another daughter? Is it foolish to feel like you’ll be replaced?

You’re so far away, you’ll always be far away because of your marriage to Aemond, having another daughter will cure that longing to have you with her. Having another daughter means she’ll replace you because it’s a daughter shared with the man she’s in love with, not someone she married out of political gain, not someone who had different preferences. She’ll be the apple of your mothers eye, of their eye—

No! No, It’s stupid, you’re being stupid. Your mother loves you, she’ll never do such a terrible thing.

Albeit…before when she was with Ser Harwin having her hope for another girl didn’t fill you with jealousy because at least you had your father; he wasn’t always available, but he was there, he loved you too. He’s gone now though, so if she does replace you you’ll have no one.

~~~

*4 FEW YEARS BACK*

“All right, now…” he trails off and glances around the ship, you follow his line of gaze to see what he’d point to, but he then turns around and points at something else completely. “…that. What do we call that and what’s its use?”

You squint your eyes on the large spar that extends forward from the ship's vessel prow, and think back to what he and Ser Qarl have taught you whilst on your way to Dragonstone. Out of all the things you’ve learned it takes time to come up with the answer right away, but it then comes to mind. “It’s the bowsprit!” You clap out of excitement. “And it prevents the ship from…uh, being submerged in water when the waters are rough!”

“Yes!” Your father exclaims. “Yes! Good job.”

You skip forward and then speak to Ser Qarl. “I’ve thought of a scenario, all right, Ser Qarl.”

Said man leans his arm against a barrel and scoffs in amusement before he softly throws his chin up to gesture you to share what he asked of you a while ago. Something you thought of with a lot of precaution.

“I’m on deck, and then whoa, I get attacked,” you tell as you clasp your hands back and walk towards the quarter deck. “Pirates are coming on the ship, my crew is getting hurt, so then I run forward, use my blade to cut the main yard and swing across the deck to save them, and myself.” You spin around and face both men with a smile. “Huh? Is that good?”

Ser Qarl and your father share a glance and break into a chuckle, making your smile falter.

They think it’s stupid don’t they? Yes, you knew it, it’s too dramatic and childish.

“That’s,” your father clears his throat and walks over to you to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “That’s a great plan, darling, well thought out.”

You look up at him with hesitation and probe. “Really?”

He shoots you a grin and nods. “Yes, really.”

“You’ll make a fine sailor,” Ser Qarl compliments. “Probably one better than your father.”

You giggle and once again can’t help but bring back your smile to your features.

“Yes,” your father agrees. “You will. You’ll make a legendary sailor.”

~~~

*NOW*

“See! That’s how you do it!” Cregan exclaims and smiles as he admires the arrow impaled exactly at the center of the makeshift target. “Let’s see you best that.”

What if he wants to replace you? Prince Daemon? He has daughters, but those are his own, what if for some reason he just wants to replace you?

“Y/N.”

No it’s unbelievable that she’d want to do that. She loves you, all of you, in fact she was often advised that she not be so affectionate towards any of you, especially towards your brothers. So she wouldn’t just replace you.

No?

“Y/N?” Cregan calls again and this time touches your shoulder, snapping you from your mess of thoughts raveld in your brain.

“Yes?” You query and meet his curious grey eyes.

Cregan blinks and then points again at the target with his eyes. “It’s your turn darling,” he says and quickly looks back at you to study you.

Albeit before he catches anything you lift up your bow and an arrow to then go stand where Cregan was. You exhale softly to try and forget what you were thinking of and shift your feet and lift your arms. You get the arrow in position and get ready to shoot it, but hands then fall on your arms, making your breath catch and your gaze drift to the corner of your eyes as Cregan stands behind you.

“Relax your bow arm,” he advises softly as he holds your gaze the entire time.

You can’t help but smile and stare at his lips.

“You did hear me?” He asks.

You relax your bow arm like he said and nod.

“Just making sure, you’re not looking at me in the eyes,” he teases.

You roll your eyes and slowly meet his gaze with a playful smirk. He snickers and then steals a kiss from your lips before he stands back.

You flash him a giddy grin before you look back at the makeshift target, you then exhale deeply again and let the arrow fly.

Albeit the arrow whizzes past the target clung onto a thin tree.

“I see,” Cregan stifles his laugh. “That was terrible.”

You sigh and lower your arm to stand back without meeting his gaze, your mind is just too caught up.

“Your teacher must not be so good, you missed the target. You’re usually good.”

“The tree is too thin,” you throw out the first complaint that comes to mind.

“The target isn’t the problem,” Cregan says. “When we go hunting the prey is moving. At battle the target is moving as well. This, this is easy.”

“I won’t use a bow and arrow,” you mutter and briefly meet his gaze. “I’ll have a sword in battle, and Astraea.”

Since you look up at the bird flying overhead you miss the way Cregan reads you and sees right through your troubled mind right away.

“The target isn’t the problem,” he repeats and leans his equipment against the tree behind him to approach you. “What’s wrong? What troubles you my darling?” He asks softly and grabs the stuff from your hands to put it by his.

You’ll sound like a total whiner, a spoiled brat. He’s more humble than most of the people at Kings Landing, so he probably won’t agree.

Yet all these thoughts are overflowing your mind and they’re beginning to drown you, you can’t hold back anymore. Besides he is your best friend, and your…paramour? Partner? No that sounds too official, you aren’t. Paramour sounds right—he’s your secret paramour, he should know what troubles you.

“It’s,” you begin to share and sigh deeply. “It’s my mother. She’s with child again.”

“That’s great news, I’m happy for you,” Cregan responds with happiness right away, albeit you continue frowning and with your eyes gleaming. He notices and backtracks. “Is it not great news?”

You mindlessly grab the pendant your grandmother had given you and meet his gaze. “They’re hoping for a girl, again. Aegon came out as a boy so they’re hoping for a girl this time…to replace me.”

Cregan scoffs and shakes his head as he looks at you as if you’re mad. “What? Darling, why would you think that?”

Tears fill your eyes as you’re slammed with sadness. “Because,” you share in a shaky voice. You can’t even look at Cregan in the eyes, it just heightens that anguish in your heart. “Unlike Aegon and this new baby they’ll have soon, I wasn’t made out of love. My parents had a duty to commit, not Prince Daemon and my mother. They love each other, their kids are made out of love. She wants to replace me with a daughter she wasn’t forced to have. A different daughter that…” you pause and shake your head whilst you wipe the tears that managed to break out. “…that’s not like me.”

Cregan sighs before he closes the gap between the two of you with an embrace. “Oh my darling girl,” he says as he begins to caress your back. “That’s the most maddest thing I’ve heard.”

Now that you’re in his embrace, as his comforting smell filters in your nose you can no longer hold back your tears, you cry softly as you hug him.

“I may not know your mother, but from what you’ve told me, it seems she loves you,” he assures you. “She’d never replace you. Never. Who would replace a woman like you?” He asks and pulls back to then cup your cheeks. “It’s like if you had a daughter already, wouldn't you want another if the gods were generous enough?”

Well when he puts it that way.

“I suppose I would,” you whisper.

Cregan offers you a faint smile and nods. “See? You just miss your mother, that’s all. Besides you’re her eldest you’re special to her, you always will be no matter who comes along.” He wipes your tears away and then leans and presses a gentle kiss on your lips before pressing one on your forehead. “You’ll always be my favorite girl regardless.”

You slowly begin to smile at him before you lean over to steal a lingering kiss from him, making him smirk under your kiss and then deepen it. When you pull back you lean your forehead against his and wipe his lips with your thumb.

“Thank you Cregan,” you whisper with your heart beginning to race as words begin to run up your throat. “I don’t know how I’d survive being so far away without you.”

The corner of his lips tug to a soft smile and he then whispers against your lips. “I’m the one that should be thankful, the gods put you in my life and saved me from this loneliness I was bestowed with.”

Your entire face burns and you can’t help but slam your lips against his. Right away Cregan slides his hands to the sides of your head and begins to push you back against the tree, whilst your hands travel to the back of his neck, and your nails dig into his skin.

Driven by passion Cregan then begins to slide his hands down, letting them linger on your breasts before he tears open the top part of your dress, making you gasp. But your disbelief only lasts for a few seconds because you then give in and begin to unbuckle his shirt.

Albeit he then pulls away and leans his forehead against yours, causing you to reach for more, but he stops you. “Who would I be if I made you mine?” He mumbles between pants. “I can’t.”

You grab his cheek and assure him. “You won’t dishonor yourself or me because I love you.”

Cregan scoffs in disbelief and can’t help his smile from spreading on his face. “We said we wouldn't fall in love.” He reminds you of your ultimatum.

You sigh. “I couldn’t resist myself, not when you’re the very breath in my lungs. Without you I can’t breathe.”

It might be foolish to say, no it is stupid since you won’t marry, but it’s a truth you can’t hide. He’s driven you too madly in love.

Cregan grins. “If that’s so then I can finally relieve myself of this weight I’ve been carrying for too long and say that I love you too.”

You smile at him and steal a kiss, making him whisper against you lips. “Give me the privilege of giving me your maidenhead then, of being mine. Only mine.”

You meet his gaze and never think about Aemond, he doesn’t cross your mind when you’re with Cregan. Neither of you think of the consequences of what could happen, you’re too driven by lust and passion, by love.

“As long as you are mine,” you whisper as you pull his shirt off.

Cregan grins and nods. “From this day until the end of my days,” he whispers against your lips as he holds your gaze and nothing else.

——

*128 AC*

Screams fill the room while the sour metallic smell of blood begins to filter the room.

“Come on My Lady push! The babe is almost out!” The midwife instructs Lady Arra.

Albeit Lady Arra throws her head back and shakes her head. “I can’t,” she cries out shakily. “I can’t! It hurts! Please don’t make me go on, please,” she begs with streams of tears mixing with the thick beads of sweat that bath her face.

“Arra,” you mumble and lean over to grab her jaw and tilt her head to the side so she can meet your gaze. “Arra, I know it hurts, I know, but you have to keep going for your babe. If you don’t then they’ll die,” you share the harsh truth so she can get inspired. “The pain is almost over. I promise.”

Turns out that Lady Arra didn’t turn out to be a concern you worried she’d be, unexpectedly she turned out to be a good friend even if you do love her husband. Sure it took time to become friends mostly because you pushed away the possibility out of your fear that she hated you, but she didn’t, she doesn’t.

Turns out that her preferences are different, she enjoys the company of women, mainly that of her handmaiden. She just put on an act that day Cregan became Lord to fool the masses. Which is a relief, you probably wouldn't be able to handle the guilt if she actually loved him.

“Something,” she stammers as she holds your gaze. “Something feels wrong.”

You look up and meet the gaze of her handmaiden/lover and share a concerned look before you look at the abnormal amount of blood that is pooling around her.

“We won’t let anything bad happen to you,” her handmaiden assures her even if you both knew the cruel truth. “Promise,” she says in a way that doesn’t involve the others, but doesn’t give away that her words are coming solely from her own heart, not that of the others.

“Push, My Lady, push!” They instruct again, and she listens, she puts as much effort as she can into delivering the babe that Cregan and her managed to make.

However, she lost too much blood as the babe struggled to come out of her. She didn’t even get to meet her baby boy, she took her last breath as he cried for the first time.

Now you dreaded for Cregan to know. He didn’t love her, but he did care for her; she was his friend since he was a child, he was the mother of his newborn son. The moment she began to bleed he left the room. So now no one can find him, but you know where he is.

It’s obvious too. It’s the only place he can think of going to at such a desperate moment. The Godswood.

“Cregan,” you call out as you see him sitting on a tree trunk by the red leafed Heart tree.

Said man looks up with gleaming eyes. You approach him first, and then unclasp your hands to pick up your dress skirt as you crouch down in front of him. “It’s a boy,” you share with a faint smile.

Cregan smiles at the ground and murmurs. “Rickon.”

You take his hands in yours and lose your smile as the dread to share the news begins to choke you, threatening you not to speak. Albeit he looks up at you and sees right through you, he sees the tears stains now on your cheeks and the new tears beginning to form, and knows.

“No,” he mutters and shakes his head. “No it cannot be true.”

You sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Cregan drops his head to hide his sorrow from you. After all these years he still hides his anguish, but now he doesn’t put on a brave face and then hide away in his chambers, now he lets you see his vulnerability. He lets you comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat and begin to caress his back. “I’m sorry.”

Cregan drops his head on your shoulder, letting you slide your hands to the back of his neck so you can gently caress it. You stay like that for a while longer, not as long as either of you would have liked but you couldn’t be caught being so affectionate so, when the others found him you let go and pretended like nothing happened.

You learned to get better at pretending. The first year of your secret relationship you were almost caught doing things friends shouldn't do too many times, luckily it didn’t happen and a scandal didn’t spread.

All because of Lady Arra, she offered her aide then, she taught you how to be very discreet. Well, you were sneaky before, but you would get caught before, because of her you didn’t and won’t. She helped a lot…

It’s why you wish you could pretend that Lady Arra’s death didn’t wound you, but it did. Not as much as your fathers death did, no, she didn’t leave a gap in your heart like he did, but her death ached.

At least she leaves a part of herself with baby Rickon. Now that she’s gone albeit…there’s one problem, your departure. You had made the excuse when the five years were up that you wanted to wait for Lady Arra to give birth; the Queen granted it, but now?

Now Arra’s gone and the baby is here, meaning you will leave soon. You’ll leave Cregan.

Perhaps that’s what truly aches, knowing that Lady Arra’s death means that your time here has also come to an end.

You’ll have to leave and face…Aemond.

Seven hells.

You exhale deeply and fall on your bed now that you were in your semi sheer white nightgown.

All the walls that surround you that you once thought dull and bland, and the ceiling above you that you hated looking at when you first got here will soon change for you. This freedom you have here will soon change to a never ending pester. People are somewhat nice, they are certainly a lot nicer now than they were the first year, they’re not racist anymore, but soon you’ll be surrounded by creeps like…Aegon.

Albeit creeps like him exist even here at Winterfell so that won’t change that much. The silence at night though, that will change and you’ll miss it too…

“Damn.” You grumble. “Maybe they should catch us together. It’ll be a bit of a scandal, but what of it.” You groan and sit up to push yourself off the end of your bed and walk to your balcony.

Perhaps the coldness is the one thing you won’t miss, but the silence, the tranquility you will miss the most after Cregan.

You sigh, and fold your arms over the railing to rest your chin on your hands as you admire the empty street below. You let the silence linger for a moment before you begin to laugh quietly to yourself. Once upon a time when you lived in Kings Landing, you’d look down at the streets below past your window, you'd see the calamity of everyday life and wish to be amongst it, now you’ve found peace here and wish to stay here in this castle amongst the tranquility.

Have you grown or have you forced yourself to make peace with your life?

You don’t know. So you sigh again and turn your head to the side, catching there in that moment the rare blue winter rose on the corner of your railing.

A smile spreads on your lips and you rush over to pick it up, finding a small scroll around the stem. When you open it you see a small sentence; “meet me in my quarters.”

That’s bold of him, but you don’t argue, you’ve found ways to sneak to him. You use the same methods now with no hesitation and find yourself in his quarters, you find him looking out his own balcony.

When you make sure no one is approaching you break your silence. “Cregan?” You call out carefully, finding his still behavior odd.

Said man turns, and you quickly add on. “Are you all right?”

The corner of his lips twitch to a slight smile. “Rickon is the most precious thing ever.” He begins to walk to you, and you don’t fail to head towards as well—“You have to meet him.”

You smile. “I have. Albeit our meeting was cut short. He looks like you though.”

“You think?” He asks softly.

You nod as you meet halfway right in the middle of his room. He takes no time to be sweet and grabs your hands to wrap them with his warm ones. “Baby Rickon makes me think of…our own children.”

Your heart skips a beat before it begins to race. His words are absurd, you can’t be man and wife, but hearing him say those words makes it seem like a possibility.

“Hair white as snow, kind eyes like yours,” he says and cups your cheek. “Mighty children born of ice and fire.”

You can’t help but let your smile widen. Yet you have yet to say anything on the matter because you knew deep past that illusion he’s building that it can’t happen.

“How are you doing Cregan?” You ask and avoid the topic. “Be honest.”

Said man averts his gaze and lets your hands fall to then wander away to the side of his bed and take a seat. “I,” he interjects but pauses and drops his head.

Now that racing heart he made beat slows down and sinks as you see the anguish he was trying not to show. You approach him and sink down beside him on his bed.

“I feel as if I could have done more,” he reveals and looks up to meet your gaze, letting you show the tears that gleam over his eyes. “I know I didn’t love her as I possibly should have, but she was still my friend, and she died and I couldn’t stop it.”

You shake your head and press your hand on the side of his neck to caress it gently. “It wasn’t your fault,” you comfort him. “You did not do this. What happened to Arra unfortunately is normal. There was no preventing it. It was simply the Gods will. I’m sorry.”

Cregan swallows thickly and drifts his gaze away again, letting you press his head against your chest to gently wrap your arms around his neck.

“Now what you can do to honor her memory is be Rickon’s father,” you add quietly. “He’ll need you, Cregan.”

Cregan pulls away and faces you with tears rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t know how to be a father.”

“Who is?” You counter softly. “We don’t spend our lives training to be parents. You’ll struggle, everyone does, but you’ll know one step at a time as life moves on. Be the father yours was to you,” you add as you cup his jaw.

Cregan holds your gaze for a lingering minute, his lips part and his gaze softens. He doesn’t say anytbing for a moment that seems to be eternal. But then, just as you were growing insecure about what you said he smiles before he steals a kiss from you.

“See,” he breaks his silence and grabs your cheeks. “This is why I love you. This is why you’d made a great Lady of Winterfell. Your kindness can melt the coldness that surrounds this land.”

You scoff and roll your eyes whilst you push his hands away and stand up off the bed. He lays down and watches you pace away.

“I’d also make a good Lady because I am stubborn, a good ruler needs that,” you play along, making him chuckle.

However you end your amusement fast and go serious. “But you truly can’t say that,” you mutter and grab the pillar of his bed to spin around and begin to walk to the other side. “You can’t say those things to me.”

“If I put a babe in your belly they’ll send you back to me,” he suddenly blurts, causing you to stop just as you reach the other side of the bed to stare at him in disbelief.

“You’ll have no choice but to be my wife and Lady,” he adds.

Regardless of the heat that basks your face you pretend to be bothered and grab a pillow off his bed to throw at him. Albeit Cregan catches it and snickers.

“My darling love,” he adds and then flips on his bed to crawl towards you. “Is that not your wish? Your greatest desire? I can put one in you now. Have you back with me in 60 days. ”

“Cregan,” you mumble and sigh with sadness knowing it’s not something that can happen. “You’d know what would happen if you did. Aemond would come after you, my family.”

Cregan sits up on his knees before he grabs your hand and suddenly yanks you towards him on the bed, making you yelp as you grab onto his shoulders.

“What?” He counters. “You don't think I can fight him?” He snickers and cups your face. “I’d do it. I’d fight every fucking man on this world if it meant making you my wife.”

It’s these words that only add to your ache about leaving, that only made you swoon that much more for a man you can’t have.

“I have to—”

“Quiet,” he interrupts you and covers your mouth, making you let out a muffled scoff and twist your face to demonstrate your discontent. “Don’t say it,” he says, knowing that you were going to tell him you had to leave. “Just lay with me tonight.” He pulls his hand away from your mouth and pulls you down with him so you can lie right next to him on his bed.

You debate on dwelling on the matter, but if these were your last moments then you want to appreciate them, so you don’t bring up your fate and just let him gently stroke your exposed back with his fingers. You snuggle against his warm chest and embrace him, you don’t think about anything but him in the comforting silence that blankets the two of you.

——

*A COUPLE DAYS LATER*

Tonight is the last night you’ll ever spend together. Tonight is the last night you’ll see his beautiful face basked by the moon's soft light, tonight is the last night you’ll touch his lips, laugh, and hear his sweet voice pour in your ear like honey. Tonight is the last night you’ll be embraced by his warmth, it’s the last time you’ll have his smell filter to your nose, it’s the last time you'll hear him laugh, see his smile painted on his features.

Tonight is the last night you can be lovers before you have to act as mere strangers passing through the night. And he’s making the most of it, acting as if nothing is going to happen. You try to act as clueless as him, but the thoughts keep coming back.

“Cregan,” you call out as he keeps walking on ahead deeper in the woods. “It’s far enough, and It’s cold, perhaps we should go to your quarters.”

Cregan peers back briefly and flashes you an assuring smile. “Not much further, just catch up.” He waves you over, forcing you to pick up your pace in the fresh snow that blankets the ground tonight.

However, you come to a quick stop at the same time Cregan does when a wolf's howl breaks out very close by. Or at least that’s what it seems. Maybe it’s your sudden fear that makes you hear it.

“Cregan,” you whisper out and approach him slowly to clutch onto his arm. “Let’s go back to our usual spot, come on. These aren’t our grounds.” You look out to depths of the woods to see if you’d find a pair of glowing eyes.

“These are my grounds,” Cregan corrects you and reaches for your hand. “Come let’s get closer.” He tugs you further, but you instantly yank him back.

“Are you mad?” You argue in panic and slight judgment. “There can be a pack of wolves out there.”

Cregan scoffs and grabs both of your hands to pull you towards him and counter. “And you have a fucking dragon, don’t be freigntned.”

“Astraea wouldn’t bite our faces off and shred us apart with her teeth,” you counter back louder. “The wolf will, and Astraea can only get here so fast.”

Cregan shoots you a smirk, just a simple smirk before he lets your hands fall to run ahead without you.

“Cregan?!” You call out as you stay put and just watch as he reaches the top of the small hill, before you lose his figure past some trees. “Cregan, don’t leave me alone!”

Seven hells!

Fucking man…

You squint your gaze and take a step forward, but don’t catch a glimpse of him. You just hear the sound of a wolf howling again, causing your heart to race as your fear heightens. “Cregan!” You call out for him. “Don’t jest with me!” You take another cautious step forward and stick your neck out. But still, nothing.

Alas then, from the deafening silence there’s a scream that comes from Cregan up ahead.

The wolf got him!

Rather than being hesitant, you pick up your dresses skirt and run to where you saw him disappear to, even if there’s a wolf close by.

“Cregan?!” You cry out desperately and proceed to come to a stop when you don’t see him or a wolf. “Cregan?!” You grab onto the tree and turn your head from side to side, however it’s at that exact moment that hands slap against your shoulders and a quiet “boo,” is whispered against your ear, causing you to yelp and spin around hastily.

And there Cregan is, his grey eyes reflecting the moonshine, and his smile just as bright as the stars before he breaks into a laugh. An evil laugh.

“Why would you do that?!” You remark at him with anger before you try to shove him back. However, he catches your wrists in time.

Albeit his feet aren’t planted against the ground well, and the force you put behind your hit was strong, so he loses balance and falls backward, taking you along with him since he doesn’t let go.

When he hits the ground you scramble to get up, but the hill you fell on was steep, so you accidently tumble and take him with you down the snow covered hill.

He laughs the entire way down, but you find no amusement in what happened considering he had you worried sick. “You are mean,” you grumble the moment you stop rolling and fall on him. “You are a mean man.” You try to move to the side, but he grabs your hands and tugs you back down against him.

“It was only a jest my sweet love,” he coos and grabs your face. “I just wanted to see something.”

You shoot him a glare and shake your head. “What? How bad I can get a heart attack? I thought you got hurt.”

“And you came running, I’m honored,” he counters with a smirk before he pulls you in for a kiss. Albeit you pull away and smack his chest.

“It wasn’t funny, I was worried,” you mumble with a pout and turn your head away.

Cregan finds this more amusing, so he lifts his head up and tries to steal kisses from you, but you keep pushing him away and turning your head. He finally has enough of you turning away so he presses his hand against your back before he flips you over with ease, so he can be on top of you.

“Don’t be angry with me,” he whispers. “It’s funny, laugh.”

You hold his gaze and feign a laugh, causing him to roll his eyes.

“What is it you wanted to show me?” You ask and lift your arms to grab his biceps. “Maybe that will change my mood?”

Cregan shoots you a smirk and caresses your cheek. “I’m more than content staying right here, I love the view.”

Oh his sweet words, they reel you back in with ease.

“Well,” you whisper whilst you roll your eyes. “My view isn’t terrible either. Albeit my ass is getting wet.”

Cregan feigns concern. “Really? Let me see.”

“Pft,” you blow out and slide your hands down his arms to grab his hands and let him sit you up.

“Come then,” he says and keeps your hand warm under his as he begins to pull you with him. “Let me show you the world.”

Your grin widens and that fear vanishes, leaving only curiosity and glee.

Once you arrived at where he wanted, you knew you should’ve known better because this place isn’t new, you’ve been on the hill that overlooks Winterfell before. Many times actually. It’s his favorite spot after all. Regardless, the castle from here, all the glimmering torch lights, the snow littered ground never fails to amaze you.

“Sit,” he points as he extends his cloak over the ground. “This way you won’t have to get your pretty ass wet.”

You meet his gaze and snicker as you sit, letting him lay down in front of you and rest his head on your lap.

“I’ll miss Winterfell,” you mention as you look at the castle below while you stroke his arm. “In a month's time it’s back to, “yes your Grace, no your Grace”. Locked towers. The insufferable Ser Criston Cole who thinks he’s high and mighty, and my fucking uncle Aegon, pft.” You sigh in frustration.

“I can go beat him bloody,” Cregan interjects.

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I can handle him. Maybe show him a thing or two,” you say smugly, making Cregan smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he says.

You smile down at him and lean down to steal a kiss from his pink lips.

“If that place is such torture, then stay,” he suggests in a playful tone, but you know he’s being serious—“All your things are already here. I only need to ask your mother for your hand.”

Your smile falters, and you avert your gaze not wanting to entertain this further. You want this to be a good last night.

“I have to go see my grandfather the King, he’s clinging onto life,” you find an excuse that doesn’t involve Aemond just yet. “I miss my family. I may not be ecstatic to return to King's Landing, but I’ll see my mother again soon after I arrive. My brothers, my cousins, all my family who I miss terribly.” You sigh softly and look up at the stars to think of the only person you won’t see now; your father Laenor.

“You’ll see them at your wedding to your prince,” Cregan grumbles. “Speak the truth, you want to return to him.”

You blink in disbelief and look down at him with your face contorted in slight annoyance and shock. “No,” you counter back quickly to assure him. “No, Aemond…he’s a stranger to me now. We’re betrothed, he was my best friend, but he stopped sending ravens, he stopped caring. He means nothing more than a stranger does.”

Cregan sits up and turns to face you. “Then stay,” he snaps out. “If he truly is a stranger then stay with me. Marry me. Don’t leave me in agony.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head with a pitiful look on your face. “You know I can’t do that, it’s not that simple.” You argue.

Cregan clenches his jaw and huffs out before adding onto his argument. “I told you I’d fight him. I’ll fight everyone that comes in my way.”

You can’t let his words affect you now, no matter how fast it makes your heart beat, and how hot your face burns as you grow flustered.

“We’ve kissed, we’ve laid together, you are mine,” he continues. “I’ll kill him to prove it.”

“No,” you quickly interject, causing him to stiffen and furrow his eyebrows.

Aemond may be stranger to you but he’s still your…friend, you still…well…you care.

“He has the oldest dragon,” you add and grab Cregan's arms. “He’d kill you first. And if he does then…” you trail off and scoff. “Then what will become of me without you?”

Cregan pushes your hands away and stands up with a scowl painted on his face. “I don’t care because I hate the idea of him touching you, of him kissing you the way I kiss you. I fill with rage knowing he’ll be inside you.”

Your body begins to burn with desire at his words, at the sound of his jealousy, but you don’t let him tempt you. You just stand up and let him grab your cheeks.

“I don’t want him to see you smile, or-or feel your comfort,” Cregan continues. “He hurt you already,” he whispers and traces the scar on your face that Aemond accidentally left you with. “I just want you to be mine.”

You shiver at his gentle touch, you crave for more, but you still push him away. “If that’s so then…” you pause and let out a shaky sigh as your eyes fill with tears and a lump grows in your throat. “…I wish we had never become friends. I wish we had never met, or loved each other the way we do—”

“Don’t say that,” he cuts you off and approaches you, but you step back.

“I don’t want to be the bane of your existence Cregan,” you finish saying with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I told you before, that night we revealed ourselves to one another for the first time. And you,” you point. “You were okay with it. You knew what was going to happen. You know I’m stubborn, you knew nothing was going to change my fate.” You stifle your whimper and drop your head.

“Y/N look at me,” he says sternly.

You lift your gaze and meet his grey eyes that brew like the angriest storm.

“I’d rather die tomorrow than spend a century without knowing you,” he says, making your breath catch. “You will never be the bane of my existence. Never. Forgive me.” He approaches you and let him this time. “But I just don’t understand why you want to marry the prince. Do you not love me?”

You nod and cup his jaw to assure him. “I love you. I just…” you hesitate. “I'm just afraid of losing you. If you win a fight for my hand, Aemond wouldn't stop there. And I can’t even breathe with the thought of living my life without you. Sure we’ll be far from one another, but I’ll be content knowing your heart is beating, that we are living under the same sky,” you whisper and lower one hand to press it against his chest to feel his heart beat. “That we share the same sun, that we look at the same moon and stars.” You offer him a sad smile.

Cregan swallows thickly, and lingers there stiffly for a moment before he suddenly pulls you in for a deep but short kiss.

“So be it then,” he gives in as he pulls away. “I’ll let you go without a fight. I’ll ache for you every day, I’ll love you from afar and want nothing but happiness for you.” He presses his forehead against yours and begins to caress your face. “My sweet love,” he coos and smiles softly at you. “If I hear that he hurt you I’ll march down there and kill him.”

You chuckle and feel tears stream down your cheeks. “Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll write to you every week. Don’t forget me.”

Cregan shakes his head and scoffs. “Don’t talk mad woman, I’d never forget you. I’ll write back every week. And if you don’t get married 6 months from now I will go to your mother personally and ask for your hand.”

You beam at him and nod, knowing that you’ll be married by then. “All right. Okay. I like the sound of that.”

Cregan pulls his head back and then slams his lips on yours to kiss you again before he can’t anymore ever again.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

No matter how much you keep telling yourself it was going to happen, nothing could actually prepare you for leaving Winterfell, Cregan. You couldn't even sleep or eat knowing that your life was going to change again.

All your friends, Cregan, every aspect of this life is going to become nothing but good memories. Which is very hilarious considering you dreaded coming five years ago, now you don’t want to part from it. Or him.

“Farewell, my friend,” you tell Rolf who is now a Knight, and now stands a foot over you; he was small when you first met.

“Farewell, Princess, may our paths cross again,” he says back with a friendly smile.

You draw in a small breath and nod before you step forward and surprise him with an embrace. “If you ever find yourself at King’s Landing come find me, just say you want to talk to me.” You laugh softly.

Rolf tightens his arms around you and assures you. “Of course, Princess.”

You linger in the embrace for a moment longer to let this interaction take longer. Because once you part away the last person to say goodbye to is Cregan.

You’re not ready.

“Farewell, Lord Stark,” you say softly and hold back from kissing him one last time, from telling him how much you love him. “Thank you for letting me stay, for making Winterfell my home.”

Cregan clenches his fist to resist himself from comforting you, from kissing you and forcing you to stay. He holds himself back even if it pains him.

“Farewell,” he says in that stern voice he uses when he’s amongst his people. “Sweet Princess.” He steps forward as he holds your gaze and reaches his hand out to ask for yours.

You know what he wants and don’t hesitate to give him your gloveless hand. When your warm flesh touches his he carefully embraces your hand with his, and then pulls it towards his lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

You shiver at the feeling of his wet lips, and continue to hold his gaze. You let your hand linger in his as you add more to your final farewell.

“Write, I’ll be far but it doesn’t mean we still can’t maintain our friendship.” You smile and slowly pull your hand away to clasp it in front of you again.

Cregan nods softly. “I will,” he assures you and then looks away for the first time since he’s walked you to your carriage, he looks back at one of the servants and gives him a nod.

“I have something for you,” Cregan adds and meets your gaze again, sparking your curiosity. “A farewell present from me and Rickon.”

You slowly begin to grin and look at the servant who falls beside him and hands him a small wooden crate.

“I know how much you love these feline creatures so I want you take one home,” he continues and motions you over with his eyes.

When you’re a few inches before him and look into the crate, you see a small but chunky balled up dark grey kitten. “Oh,” you muse and open the crate to carefully take it out. “Hello, my beautiful friend.”

“It’s a piece of Winterfell to take with you,” Cregan interjects as he admires you comforting the kitten.

“Don’t worry, Astraea won’t eat you,” you tell the kitten. “You’ll be friends, won’t you, Wolf?” You name the grey kitten that reminds you of Cregan’s grey eyes. You then blink and look over at Cregan with a beaming grin. “Thank you Lord Stark. I love the gift. I shall love it, cherish it and always keep it safe.” You exhale deeply and let your handmaidens take the crate as you step back towards your carriage that will take you to the harbor.

“Farwell once again,” you keep longing the interaction as much as you can.

“Farewell, y/n Velaryon,” Cregan tells you one more time and clenches his hands into fists again.

This time he doesn’t ask for your hand, he doesn’t hand you another present, this time it’s time to leave. So with one last lingering look you turn and walk to the carriage with tears forming in your eyes.

When you reach the steps however, Cregan is there beside you, you meet his dark grey eyes again, one last time. You give him your hand again, let him cup it and help you up the two steps. Before you can walk inside and close the door in front of him, you linger there, you hold his comforting gaze even as Astraea lets out a soft cry in the distance.

Neither of you want to pull away, but you have to, you have to leave, so you pull away first and walk in. You let the coach close the door before Cregan and minimize your view of his beautiful face.

The coach doesn’t take long to depart from that spot it was stationed at, and even if you could only see glimpses of Cregan's grey eyes and his pale face through the little gaps designed on the window, you take that opportunity and watch him for that small second before his figure disappears before your very eyes. After that all you see is snow, endless blankets of snow.

You want to cry, but you can’t, you don’t want to give anything away, so you hold onto your kitten, Wolf, and let Astraea express your hidden sadness with her melancholy song as she follows the carriage you’re in.

Now onto the stranger that was once your best friend, who is still your betrothed, Aemond.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton

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forget-you-morelike-fuck-you · 11 months

Text

Euclid- E.M.

Okay, I put a rush on this so I could have it out before I leave for my anniversary trip tomorrow, and I need to warn you, it is brutal. You can listen to the song I drew inspiration from here: https://youtu.be/DDdByJYUVeA

It's been months since Eddie cheated on you, and life has been hell as you try to heal. But when the chance comes, are you able to take him back?

Separate Ways (Pt. 1) - Part-Time Lover (Extra)

Masterlist

TW- 18+ Minors DNI, smut, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of drinking, panic attacks, cursing, pining, mutual pining, pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweet girl), oral (f receiving), fingering, pnv, protected sex (Wrap before you tap, besties <3), all around shitshow of feels and lots of crying

Pairings- Eddie X Reader, Bestfriend!Robin X Reader

Word Count- 7,698

The phone rang at least twice a day, but you didn’t pick it up. Not when you knew who would be on the other side. It’s been like this for the past couple months, and your eyes start watering of their own will every time you hear it, wishing so badly you could just throw the phone at the wall and smash it into a million pieces. Why can’t he just give it a rest? Take a hint? He should know by now that you want nothing more to do with him, not after everything he did to you.

You still wake up smiling every few days, dreams of him on brighter days dancing across the backs of your eyelids fading into the grim reality that he forced you to see just a few months ago as you wake up alone again, and again, and again. You still touch the space in the hollow of your neck, grasping at a necklace that no longer resides there for a comfort you can never seem to find. He broke you. Eddie broke you.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be married to him by now. In some parallel universe, you had graduated high school with full honors, and you had been able to make your journey back to Hawkins to spend the rest of your life with the man you loved to the ends of the earth. But not this one. In this one, you laid in agony day after day wishing that the man you loved had loved you enough to wait for you just a little longer before turning into the arms of another.

“Sweetheart?” A sliver of light breaks through the darkness of your room as your mom opens the door. You wipe your face of stray tears and sniff back the snot threatening to drip from your nose as you sit up to talk to her. “Are you hungry? I was thinking about getting from that place you love over by the movie theater,” Your mom has been so good to you, even after all of the venom you spent on her and your dad when you were forced to move here. Now it was like a little slice of heaven on most days. You never had to worry about seeing Eddie around town. He’d be stupid to show up here, especially unannounced.

You nod to your mom, your voice hoarse as you respond, “Yeah, that would be great mom. Thank you,” She gives you a soft smile, knowing how hard it is for you on these kinds of days. The days where you can’t seem to get him out of your head.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon then,” She starts closing the door, but she opens it back up to say something else, “I hate to ask, sweetie, but I’m expecting a call at some point tonight from the carpet people to confirm our appointment for this weekend. Your father should be home soon, but if you hear the phone before he gets here, would you mind grabbing it?” She looks at you apologetically as the pit forms in your stomach, but you nod anyway, giving her a fake smile.

“Yeah, I can do that, no problem,” Your fingers find dried pieces of skin to pick around one of your thumbs, and you pull one that was too fresh. You can feel the live skin pulling away and you know you’ll bleed.

“Thank you, honey. I’ll be back soon,” She closes the door then, softly clicking the handle back into place as you’re enveloped in darkness again. You heave a heavy sigh, throwing your head back against your pillow before rubbing your down your face to hopefully wipe off some of the sleepiness from your eyes. You click the light on next to your bed and contemplate getting up. You don’t want to fall back asleep before your mom gets home with the food she kindly offered to get you.

You sigh again as you decide to at least go to the bathroom and get something to drink, so you heave your legs over the side of your bed and slip them into your house shoes before quietly padding your way down the hallway to the bathroom, then the kitchen for a glass of water. You drink it down and refill it, taking a few more big gulps before setting it to the side and going to get plates out of the cabinet for dinner.

As you set the table, your blood runs cold when you hear the phone ring shrilly on the opposite wall from you, nearly dropping the forks in your hand as you jolt to attention. It’s a daunting task to walk over, and so you take your time putting the forks down in a heap on the table before trudging over to the dock and gingerly picking it up. You put it to your ear and let out a quiet “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s dad.” You almost cry in relief when you hear his voice over the receiver.

“Dad, hey what’s up?” You try to calm the shaking in your voice as the adrenaline seeps from your system, but it’s no use.

“I’m gonna be a little later getting home than I thought. I need to go by the Xerox place before they close to copy a few things. Just ask your mom to put my dinner in the microwave for me?”

“Yeah, sure. I can do that,”

“Okay, thanks lovebug. I’ll see you soon,”

“Okay, love you, dad.” He hangs up the phone and you go back to your task of setting the table. Just as you finish, the phone rings again, and you walk over a little more confidently this time, your fear having subsided a bit after taking the first call.

“Hello?” There’s no sound from the other end for a moment, and you’re thinking this might end up being an automated message when you finally hear him.

“Y/N?” Your stomach falls down to your feet, and you waste no time slamming the phone back into its place, your hands breaking out in a cold sweat. The phone rings again right after, and you panic, torn between answering and letting it ring. But you promised your mom, and so you pick it up again, and, terrified, you hold the phone to your face.

“Y/N, just give me five minutes, please. That’s all I ask!” Your breath trembles uncontrollably, but you find yourself more angry than sad right now. Enough is enough.

“Eddie!” His name feels like a sweet, sweet poison falling from your tongue, “All I asked was for you to wait for me, to love me. And you couldn’t do that. So, for the love of God, just leave me the fuck alone!” You slam the phone back down, sobs starting to crack from your burning chest, hot tears spilling over your cheeks. You hide your face in your hands, trying to control your breathing and calm down enough to at least see so you can sit at the kitchen table, but it’s all too much. You let yourself fall to the floor and wrap your arms around your knees as you continue to sob, your mouth hanging open to let all the sounds trapped inside you free while you have time alone.

Your mom finds you there, still crying loudly as she opens the door from the garage, food bag in hand before she rushes over and sits next to you, pulling your face into her chest to rock you back and forth, smoothing your hair lovingly as you fall to pieces once again.

That wasn’t the last call from Eddie, but it was the second to last. The next day, you came home from work to a voicemail on the machine. Normally, you would instantly delete it to try to save yourself another breakdown, but this time you listened, wanting to know what he would’ve said to you last night if you had given him the chance. “Y/N, I- I'm sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I’m sorry for not being able to leave you be. I just... You’re like a ghost in my hallway, I can’t sleep without you. I see you in everything, and I can’t get you out of my mind. I love you, so much, and I know that that’s probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever said, but I can’t let you go without telling you that one last time. But if there is some, small, tiny, selfless part of you that could love me again, no, even just forgive me... Call me. Whenever you have the time,” Your finger hovers over the delete button after the machine beeps, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, the sound of his voice is like a shot of heroin, even through the slight slur no doubt due to more than a couple of drinks.

Without him ringing your phone off the hook every day, it becomes a little easier to start forgetting him. You start to smile more, take more time to enjoy the things you used to, like riding your bike and baking with your mom. You even call Robin, who you haven’t talked to since she so kindly helped you get home after you found Eddie and Chrissy Cunningham together in her car.

You’ve missed her terribly, and you ache to tell her everything that’s been happening with Eddie calling, and even the voicemail you kept, but you can’t bring yourself to dredge it all up. Instead, you talk about having her over soon, since school is out. You’ve let yourself develop favorite places here, and you’d love to show them to her. She wildly accepts, rapidly talking about dates that would be best for her, and soon you’ve got a trip planned for late July.

Your calls with Robin get more frequent after, and she fills you in on everything outside of Eddie going on in Hawkins. “Steve’s starting classes at the community college in the fall. He says he’s gonna do a business major like his dad, but I think you and I both know he’s gonna end up switching before the first semester is even over. Oh, and Nancy just got an internship at a major newspaper ever since she wrote that article about those toxic fertilizers being sold all over Indiana...” You smile as she tells you everything, taking it all in as you let yourself really miss Hawkins for the first time in a while. It’s so odd now, thinking about it. You spent the first 18 years of your life there, and now it all almost feels like a dream.

You get your first college acceptance letter in late June, and another just a couple days later. You were always a good student, but after you left Eddie, things went really downhill those last few weeks of school. You almost didn’t even pass your finals. Thankfully, your GPA was so good that it didn’t do too much to your overall grading, but it still definitely affected your choice of schools. Washington State accepted you with a half ride scholarship, and the University of Utah accepted you with a $3000 grant to help with the tuition. You didn’t get into University of California, Irvine, but it wasn’t your first choice anyway. Your parents celebrate with you with a nice dinner out, and you think about the opportunities you would’ve lost had you gone back to Hawkins and settled for the community college there. You’ve been wanting to go into Nursing since you started high school, and with the scholarship to Washington State, it makes that dream much more real.

You scream in delight as Robin pulls into your driveway, having been watching out the window for the last hour expecting her arrival. You rush out the door as she parks and embrace her tightly the moment she steps out of her car. “I can’t believe you’re here!” You cry in delight, squeezing her so hard Robin feels like her eyeballs are about to explode from their sockets, not that she cares. She hugs you back with just as much force, so happy to see her best friend again.

“I know! I’ve missed you so much! How are you?” She asks as you separate. You give a contemplative smile as you think of the right words to say.

“Up and down, you know. But right now, I am super Up since you’re here!” You laugh, pulling her into another hug, much lighter this time now that you’ve both gotten your initial excitement out of your systems. You help her haul her bags into your house, taking her upstairs to the guest room she’ll be staying in for the next week while she’s here.

“This is nice! Much bigger than your old house!” Robin comments, looking around the soft blue painted room.

“Yeah, with my dad’s new job, the company he works for gave him some assistance to buy a new house out here along with the pay raise, so we got a good deal on it after everything was said and done,” You shrug. It is a nice house, you suppose. But something about it just doesn’t feel like home. It never has.

“That’s awesome! So, what kind of fun stuff do we have planned for this week?” Robin asks as she sits on the bed. You sit next to her, doing an excited wiggle as you tell her everything.

“So, there’s a festival going on this weekend downtown, so we’re definitely going to that. And we can hit the roller rink, go to the movies, and we have a pretty cool mall here, so we can go hang out there too! And we just got a hot tub last month, so I hope you brought a swimsuit!” Robin’s smile grows wider as you list off all of the fun things you can do, oohing and ahhing at all of the options.

“Well,” She says, lifting her eyebrow playfully, “I definitely think we should start with the hot tub!” You laugh as she gets up, flipping her suitcase over to dig out her bikini.

“Okay! Get changed and I’ll go get it ready for us!” You’re practically skipping down the stairs with joy when you gently close the door behind you, just so happy to have one of your favorite people back after so long.

As the days pass, you and Robin talk nonstop about how your lives are going, usually either walking around the mall, some icy treat in your hands, or lounging in your backyard, soaking up the sun. You’ve been getting a bit curious as to the whereabouts of Eddie and what he’s been up to, but you’re almost afraid to hear the answer. Finally, after it eats right through you, you ask as you and Robin sit on your patio, sharing a plate of watermelon, ice clinking against your glass as you take a sip of sweet tea. “So, what’s Eddie been up to?” You ask casually, trying to veil the nervousness as you bat your lashes innocently at Robin, whose face has fallen.

“He’s...” Her face contorts, like she’s trying to find a way to put it gently. Your stomach does flips in your abdomen as you wait, as both possible answers are ones you dread. “Are you sure you want to know?” Your façade cracks, but only for a moment before you pull yourself back together and nod. It’s gonna be bad no matter how you slice it. Either he’s doing great and moved on, probably with Chrissy, or he’s doing so badly he’s drowning, just like you have been for the better part of this year. Your voice comes out more serious, and a bit sad as you let your eyes fall from Robin’s sympathetic gaze.

“Yeah, I think I do.” You hear Robin take a gulp of air, chewing on the answer you wish she’d just spit out.

“He’s not doing too great,” You look up at her, but she’s not looking at you anymore. She’s fidgeting with her fingers as she thinks of the right words to say. “I don’t really see much of him anymore, but Steve still does, and he says that Eddie’s been kind of wallowing in self-hatred ever since you left that day. All I know is that the last time I saw him, it looked like he hadn’t slept in days...” Your heart pounds loudly in your throat as you hang onto her every word, and your iron grip on your cup almost makes you afraid it’s going to shatter in your hands.

“When was that? When did you see him last?” You almost sound like you’re pleading for the answer, and Robin’s eyes are soft on yours as she replies.

“He came in to rent a movie last week.”

So, he’s been in just as much pain as you have been, and suddenly, it all comes crashing around you. It’s like your chest is full of thick tar, burning white hot up to your throat. You chew the inside of your mouth to keep it all from coming up, and the words he spoke on his last call to you echo in your mind. “But if there is some, small, tiny, selfless part of you that could love me again, no, even just forgive me... Call me. Whenever you have the time,”

You never told Robin about the gritty details of your Eddie induced depression, but then, it all spills out. You tell her about the incessant calling, all of the breakdowns, panic attacks, second thoughts... All of the hatred and the mind-numbing love you still felt for Eddie. All of it, up to that last call, which you let her listen to on the answering machine. You even admit to her that you listen to it at least once a week, twice if you have a really bad day. You sit with her on the couch in your living room as you let her process it all.

“Would you ever consider taking him back?” she asks, brows knitted together in confusion.

“No!” You assert, before your mind starts racing toward the alternative. “Maybe... I don’t know. I don’t know if I could,” Your head falls into your hands as you let out a groan that’s been locked deep inside you. “If he had just not been so fucking stupid, I wouldn’t even have to wonder,” You look back up at Robin as she listens intently to you. “But I dream about him, Robin. Even still, and I wake up so fucking happy until I remember that he’s gone,” You confess. You had even dreamt about him last night, and you remember it so vividly, like you could reach out and feel his warmth right then if you wanted to.

“Maybe...” Robin begins gently, “Maybe it was just some stupid mistake. Maybe he was drunk when it started, and he just didn’t know how to make it stop,” You give her a look of warning, and she throws her hands up, “I’m not saying it’s a good excuse, but it could just be what happened!” She says, sighing deeply. “Look, all I will say is that I have never seen someone love someone else as much as you two loved each other. I would never tell you that one way or the other is right or wrong, but if it were me, I might have to rethink my decision—especially if it still hurt this much.” She lends a comforting hand to your knee, and you cover it with yours thankfully. “I just want you to be happy, no matter how that happens. You’re my best friend,” A small tear falls from the corner of your eye as you pull her into a tight hug, rocking gently as tears leak onto her sun warmed shoulder.

As summer turns to fall, your parents start mentioning a trip to Hawkins for Thanksgiving, and your stomach knots around itself every time it’s brought up. You’ve been considering going, but you also don’t know what decision you’ll come to. They would never make you go, of course, but there’s more than one reason to want to go back. Your friends, your family... Eddie.

You’ve been so close to calling him dozens of times since Robin was there with you, her words and Eddie’s running over and over through your mind like a broken record. You even got halfway through dialing once, before getting too scared and putting the phone back down. You’ve weighed the pros and cons, gone through every possible scenario you can imagine. There’s a chance you wouldn’t even see him, but there’s also the chance that you see him and he’s with someone else now, or he’s not with someone else, but you don’t want him, or maybe you would, or maybe he wouldn’t want you anymore...

Your mind is madness as the trip nears, and you wish more than ever that you still had the heavy metal ring on the chain around your neck to keep you grounded. You reach for it, only to find the skin bare like every other time you try. It’s like if you wish for it hard enough, one day it’ll appear again, and you’ll have that piece of Eddie back to help you through this.

Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe the wishing and the brushing of your skin against the base of your throat has been the answer all along. If you’re wishing for Eddie so badly, why don’t you go get him? If nothing else, maybe seeing him again would provide some sort of closure for the both of you.

Your parents are surprised at your decision to join them, but you don’t let them in on all of the reasons why, out of fear that they’d talk you out of it. You can’t keep living like this, staring at the ceiling and watching the past play over and over of a time when you were truly happy. Of when Eddie was there with you.

The drive back to Hawkins feels like eternity as you pass through state after state of boring, flat nothingness, but as you start seeing mile signs with the town name on it, the numbers going down as you near your destination, your body starts buzzing with adrenaline. You have to keep your shaking breaths quiet as to not alarm your parents of the turmoil your body and mind are facing as you go over the details of your plan.

When you pull into the hotel parking lot, you grab your bike out of the trunk first, wanting to have it close by after you haul your bags up to the rooms your parents have booked for the next few days. You told your parents you’re staying with Robin tonight to catch up, which isn’t a lie. You’re planning on going there, after you go to see Eddie.

You contemplated the pros and cons of calling before showing up unannounced, and you decided that if you accidentally caught him with another woman again, you’d probably never recover, and so the week prior, while no one was home but you, you dialed the number you knew by heart, fingers shaking over the numbers. As much as you steeled yourself to hear his voice again, it was like your blood turned to lead when you heard him.

“Hello?” You took a deep breath, your lungs refusing to calm their trembling.

“Eddie,” You breathed, trying not to lose your resolve.

“Y/N?” His voice was hopeful, the pained sting of hearing you after so long was evident.

“D-do you remember that place in the park we used to meet?” A heat broke out over your face as you waited for him to respond.

“Yeah, yeah of course, I do,” His voice was just as shaky as yours. It was only a mild comfort as you continued.

“I’m gonna be in town next week. Meet me there next Wednesday. I think we’ll be getting in around 6 in the evening,” You took another deep breath, closing your eyes to envision the reunion. The best- and worst-case scenarios turning over in your mind like revolving doors.

“O-okay. I’ll be there. I promise,” His voice thick, almost pleading for you to say more, just so he could hear your voice.

“Okay. Bye, Eddie,” You hung up before he could say anything else, and you clutched a hand to your chest to try to calm your hammering heart. No backing down, now. You thought.

You ride your bike hard and fast to the park, scanning with your eyes over the parking lot to find Eddie’s van. You spot it, near the back, and you steel yourself to see him as you hop off before your wheels hit the gravel, walking down the trail at the edge of the tree line and off the path, walking in the memory of the countless times you met Eddie here. As you near the alcove of red, orange, yellow, brown leaves, you see him, and you stop for a moment, not knowing if you can truly bear the weight of seeing him again. But you need this, and you can tell that he does too. His back is turned to you, head in his hands. You can hear him muttering something, but you don’t know what, and so you scan the ground to see if you can find a loose twig to step on to break him out of his inner world.

Eddie’s head snaps around with the sound of the branch, his eyes red and wet from crying. You approach slowly, and he watches you, his face filled with wonder as he sees you for the first time in 8 months. “Y-Y/N,” He greets you as you stop a few feet away from you, your bicycle still in your hands. He sticks his decorated hands in his pockets, probably to keep himself from pulling you into him, and you take a deep breath, looking everywhere but his face. “What- I mean... How have you been?” The question strikes you deep in your chest. If only he knew.

“I’m okay, I guess,” You finally muster the strength to look at him, and his eyes say everything. They scan over your face, over your body, remembering every detail like he’s seeing a ghost. “I um, no. That’s a lie. I’m not doing okay,” You feel a thickness in your throat, and you bite it back as you try to keep your composure. “You broke me, Eddie.”

Eddie looks away from you, then, into the trees, like he’s following the tracks of some scurrying creature in the brush. “I know,” His jaw clenches tightly, and you see his Adam’s Apple bobbing in a swallow that you can tell is pushing down a flurry of words he wishes he could say.

“What makes it worse, though...” You begin, taking a small step toward him. Eddie’s eyes flick over to you again, his mouth quirking down as he braces himself for the venomous words he undoubtedly deserves. “What makes it worse, is that no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to stop loving you,” You have to grit your teeth to get the words out clearly, and you clear your throat as you try to keep the tears at bay. Eddie’s face contorts in confusion, his soft, tired brown eyes searching yours for the explanation.

“What?” He takes a breath, a step, just a few inches closer to you. You still can’t tell if you find it comforting or not, but the magnetism between the two of you is getting stronger. Any closer and you wouldn’t be able to let yourself leave him. “You- you still love me?” Hope fills his features, and it’s like he’s found the fountain of youth. He instantly looks refreshed and rejuvenated, just by hearing the words fall from those perfect lips of yours.

“But I don’t know if I can forgive you,” You confess, before Eddie can take another step. “Robin told me how hurt you’ve been, and I know that it’s been hell for the both of us, but come on, Eddie! I know you know that whatever pain you’re going through, mine is so much worse. At least you knew what was going on. At least you weren’t blindsided by this- this fucking nuke that fell right on us the minute you decided to take Chrissy home that night!” You’re yelling now, your bike pushed aside into the dirt as tears fall freely from your eyes. You want so badly to step closer to him, to hit him or kiss him or a combination of both, but you keep your distance, needing your mind to stay somewhat clear as you say your piece.

“I love you, Eddie, but goddamn it, do I fucking hate that I do! Because I remember you and you are like rain in the desert! You are every sunrise and sunset to me, and I can’t even bear to look at them anymore because they remind me of you!” You’re choking your words between sobs now, your knees getting weaker as your breathing grows more erratic. Eddie’s crying too, you can see that through the tears, and his body leans toward you, ready to catch you if you fall.

“Please, Eddie, please just--” You let out a scream of frustration, not knowing what you want from him, or yourself. You let your knees fall to the soft, leaf covered ground, your arms wrapped around yourself tightly as you sob, tears and snot pouring down your blotchy face, not like you could bring yourself to care. Your eyes are screwed shut so tight you can’t even see the light on the other side of your eyelids, but you can hear the soft crunch of leaves, and Eddie’s warmth as he grabs you, pulling you into him as he rocks the two of you on the ground in the middle of the autumn canopy.

You push yourself into him, feeling his hands rub your back, his lips pressed hard against the top of your head as he whispers sweet nothings to you as you cry. You can hear him sniffle every once in a while as he cries with you. You finally move so that your arms wrap around him, your face finding its home in the crook of his neck, and you breathe him in. It’s so familiar, so goddamn intoxicating that you don’t ever want to let go. You stay like that for a long time, the tears wetting his t-shirt finally slowing, and then stopping, leaving only trembling limbs and breaths as you cling to each other in the darkening forest.

“I never stopped loving you,” You hear him whisper into your hair. “Not for a single second. If I could take back every fucking thing I ever did to hurt you, I would in a fucking heartbeat. I would rather die than hurt you again. If you let me, I will spend the rest of my fucking life making sure that you’re happy, Y/N. I miss you every day, every second. I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about you, and when I finally sleep, I dream about you. You’re my everything. You are everything. I will never be able to tell you how fucking sorry I am. Please, baby, please, just give me a chance,” You can feel the warmth of his breath in your hair, his tears like rain gathering in the strands. Your hands clench around his jacket, your head shaking slowly as you try to find the words.

“I don’t know if I can,” The sound is muffled by his chest, but he hears you, his chest shaking in a choked sob.

“Just give me tonight, please. Let me love you tonight, and if you never want to see me again, I’ll let you go. I promise, I promise” His voice cracks on the words, repeating the phrase like a mantra, a prayer, a wish for you to say yes.

You can’t fight the feeling, and you don’t know if you want to, but you lift your head and see Eddie’s face up close for the first time in close to a year. He looks ten years older than the last time you saw him, but he’s still so beautiful. His cheeks and eyes are pink and puffy from all of the emotion of the day, but he’s still there. The Eddie you love. You take a breath and let one of your hands touch his face, sweeping a couple of stray curls from his forehead. His eyes gaze into yours like you’re the key to the whole universe, the meaning of life itself.

Your fingers trail across his cheekbone, down toward his jaw, across his lips. Your eyes are scanning over wherever you touch, committing every single detail to memory, because this may be the last time you’re this close to him. Your hand comes to cup his jaw, thumb brushing a stray tear from his eyes, and you lean closer, breaths shuddering as your lips gently graze his. Eddie lets you take your time, his eyes fluttering closed as you leave feather light kisses over his lips, just testing the waters. Finally, you slot your mouth against his with a little more weight, and you can feel Eddie’s face contort behind your closed eyes as he holds you even tighter to him. It’s the most dizzying kiss you’ve ever had, filled with every single thing you’ve ever wanted to say to each other. One of Eddie’s hands moves into your hair, carding through the soft strands, and the sound you make is pained and euphoric like nothing you’ve ever heard before. You feel Eddie’s tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and you open your mouth to receive it, relishing in the taste of him as the kiss deepens, the hand not on his face wandering under his shirt to feel the warmth of his abdomen. Eddie suddenly pulls away, his eyes darkened in the fading light of twilight. His hand finds your face as he stares into you.

“I- I can’t do this here,” He looks around at the darkening forest, crickets starting to chirp in the otherwise still night. “Let me take you home with me,” He whispers, his eyes pleading, his forehead pressing into yours as you feel his sweet breath fan over your face. You give a quick nod, biting your lip as you instantly miss the feeling of his mouth on you.

“Okay, let’s go home,” Eddie helps you up and grabs your bike, walking it back to his van for you, your arm threaded through the crook of his elbow. It’s quiet, but the air is thick with adrenaline with wanting. When you get back to the gravel parking lot, Eddie’s van is the last vehicle there, standing alone in the new light of the moon overhead like a lighthouse guiding you.

Eddie hoists your bike into the back of his truck with ease, shutting the double doors with a loud creak before going with you to open your door for you. You don’t let go of him until the last second, and you pull his face to yours in a chaste kiss before you let him close the door for you, running around to the other side to start the car. The chill air is starting to seep into your bones, and you’re thankful when Eddie turns the heat on as he tears out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, both of you dying to get your hands on each other again.

The door has barely swung back into place when you and Eddie start tearing your clothes off each other, mouths pressed together, tongue and teeth starting to reacquaint themselves. Eddie presses you into the wall, your back breaking out in goosebumps as your skin hits, but they’re quickly soothed by his rough, warm hands wandering up your bare sides. You feel the vibrations as he moans into your mouth, desperate to feel you again, and can’t say you don’t feel the same. You reach for the button on his jeans when he pulls away, one hand going to grab yours as he shakes his head. “No,” He mutters, pressing warm kisses to your shoulder, up your neck, to just under your ear. “Tonight belongs to you,” He bends down, his arms scooping you up under your thighs as you let out a whimper, and he carries you like this to his bedroom, making lazy patterns on the skin of your collarbone with his lips. He practically kicks his door down, hoisting you up to get a better grip on you as he crosses the threshold before laying you down on his bed. He kneels in front of you, pressing kisses to your hips as his hands find the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling down the zipper as you writhe in need beneath him. “So beautiful,” he mutters into the skin, and you’re suddenly hit with the image of this exact scenario, but rather than you, it’s Chrissy. You feel tears threatening to slip from your eyes again at the thought, but you do everything to push them away, just needing to get through this. You need this, as much as Eddie does. Just try. Forgive him, forgive him, forgive him...

Your underwear comes down with your pants, and you whine pathetically as you feel Eddie press hot kisses into the meat of your cold thighs, thankful to be pulled away from the disgusting thoughts infiltrating your brain.

“E-Eddie,” You breathe. It’s so much sensation, more than you’ve felt in a long time, and you already know it won’t take you much to get you over the edge, if only the visions of Chrissy stay away. “Please, Eddie, I need you,” You sob.

“I know baby, I know,” His lips graze over your dripping core, and his tongue takes a tentative lick, up and down, fingers digging into your hips as he lets out a pained sound. A harsh cry flies from your lips and one of your hands seeks his. “I missed this,” He whispers into you, his tongue finding a rhythm between your thighs. “I missed the fucking taste of you,” He hoists one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading you open a bit more as you grab at his hair. Your hips push into his face on their own, like they’re possessed with pure, wanton need. Eddie helps, pulling you closer with the hand not holding yours, his palm spread over your thigh, fingers pressed into the tender flesh to keep you still as he works you over.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to take his cock, not when you’re already such a mess for him. You’ve always been sensitive, sure, but this is a whole new world. You’ve been longing for the feeling of him ever since the last time you were together, but it feels like the first time all over again, but even better. “I’m gonna let go of your hand, okay?” He glances up at you, eyes soft as you nod, letting his fingers slip from in between yours. The sounds you make come to a new point of needy and desperate as you feel him slip two fingers into your aching hole. You feel the cold metal of his rings hitting the hot skin there as he pumps in and out, fingertips curling so perfectly up into the velvet walls of your core where he knows will make you melt in his hands. You fist the sheets of his bed in your hand, hot tears slipping from the corners of your screwed-shut eyes as you let go, a white-hot bliss exploding all over your body as he sucks your clit.

You cry Eddie’s name, a loud sob racking your chest in a crude display of raw, overwhelming emotion. You reach for him, needing him closer, needing his lips on yours so bad it hurts. When Eddie realizes, he wastes no time coming and cradling your body against his bare chest, pressing his lips hard against yours. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. I’m not gonna let you go,” He whispers between kisses. Your hands start struggling at the waistband of his pants, trying to push them down as tears continue leaking from the corners of your eyes. One of Eddie’s hands leaves your body only to help you push them down, and he shakes his feet out, kicking them away. “Let’s get comfy, sweet girl, I wanna take good care of you, okay?”

You nod, still trying to catch your breath from the best orgasm of your life as you scoot back onto the center of the bed. Eddie leaves you for a moment to pull out a foil wrapper from the top drawer of his dresser, the place he always kept them, and another image flashes in your mind of when he did this for Chrissy. How many times was she here in his bed? How many times did Eddie make her cum? How many times did he cum for her?

Your racing thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of Eddie’s lips on yours again as he kneels between your open legs. “I love you, so much,” He whimpers, one had resting above your head, the other coming to hold your face as he kisses you. But you can’t say it back, not when these images are flashing through your mind. You push them away, further than before, and try to keep your calm as you feel Eddie push into you, stretching you open as you both moan into each other. It’s been so long since you’ve had sex with anyone that it stings almost like it’s your first time, but Eddie goes slow, and soon, he has you worked open on his cock, pumping in and out of you languidly, both of you wanting to savor this feeling. Eddie gives a breath of a laugh, sweet sounds slipping through his lips as he whispers to you, “I- I don’t think I’m going to last, baby. I haven’t done this in a while. And you feel so fucking good. You’re so fucking perfect for me,”

You wonder if he ever said that to Chrissy. You wonder, you wonder, you wonder, and soon, you can’t think of anything else. Your tears return, but now it’s not from an overwhelm of bliss, but from despair. You can’t forgive him, no matter how hard you try. You cling to him with new purpose, trying to remember every detail, every curve, every blemish, every freckle as you beg for more, wanting to feel what it’s like to unravel for him just one more time. It takes a bit longer than last time as you fight to keep your mind on the sensation, but soon, with Eddie’s sweet words and sounds filling your senses, you feel your core tensing, then fluttering around his cock, clenching tightly over and over again as you ride out your high. Eddie isn’t far behind, and soon, his hips stutter, and he lets out a whimper of your name as he cums.

Both of you lay there together to catch your breath for a few minutes before Eddie gently pulls out of you to get you both cleaned up. Everything is white noise outside of your brain as you plan your escape. You can’t bring yourself to say it to his face. You’ll have to take the coward’s way out, even though it kills you.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie’s breaths to even out with you wrapped in his arms, and you wait for a long time before attempting to get up, being as quiet as you possibly can to gather your clothes. As you search for your bra, you notice a chain sitting on Eddie’s dresser, the one he gave you almost a year ago, the promise ring still swinging from its center as you pick it up gently from the dresser. You can’t help but shove it in your pocket, the last piece of Eddie you’ll ever have, before going on to finish getting dressed.

You have to inch Eddie’s bedroom door open slowly because you know it creaks, but you manage to slip through without having to open it all the way, bringing it back to gently click closed behind you. You grab your shirt from the ground in the living room, then, and go to the kitchen to find something to write on. You may be running away in the middle of the night, but he at least deserves a note explaining why.

I’m so sorry, Eddie.

I tried with everything I have, but I just can’t let myself be yours. Not when I can’t stop thinking about all the pretty words you said to Chrissy when it should’ve been me in your bed. I hope you can be the one to forgive me, now. I love you, and I always will. You brought me heaven tonight, for the last time. Thank you.

You slip out the door, walking briskly toward Eddie’s truck just in case he wakes up, breath coming out in puffs of vapor, the temperature having dropped significantly since you were last outside. You try to open the back doors of Eddie’s van quietly, but it’s nearly impossible as the rust creaks and groans under the pressure. You settle on just one and struggle to haul your bike out, but you do it as quickly as you can, lip pulled between your teeth as the wheels bounce against the gravel driveway. You close the door as quietly as you opened it, which isn’t very, and you hop onto your bike, dashing away from the trailer under the cloak of night, your cheeks and nose freezing as you flee into the night.

Eddie keeps his word. You never see him again.

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