#was Very Extremely Out in my early twenties

[annabelle--cane]

placing my hands out placatingly, asking everyone to please be cool and not reignite og!elias burnt out gifted kid discourse. okay? okay. I think this is setting up some more sam and gwen parallels. from mag 193, we know that elias bouchard (original flavor) was told from a young age that he was smart but lazy, he was squandering his advantages, and he was wrong to envy other children because they were meaningless and he was better. he seemed to internalize this to some extent, because by the time he was in his early twenties he had no friends and no family and no real life, just the certainty that he was destined to deserve better.

I think it is reasonable to assume that gwen received similar messaging during her childhood, as she seems to be treating the OIAR the same way elias treated artefact storage (as a stepping stone job to a bigger career waiting for her up the ladder), and she takes a lot of offence when she feels disrespected. from magp 03, we know she's reticent to tell her friends that she's still working this same job, especially because the friend's party she was going to was to celebrate making partner at a law firm.

from this episode, we know that sam was declared "gifted" as a child and his parents rigorously enrolled him in every program they could find, and it started going down hill when the magnus institute rejected him (did they reject him outright or was he there for a bit and then kicked out? what he said to celia doesn't quite fit his earlier statements, but moving on). he has a lot of pent up and fixated feelings about not being chosen by them, he didn't get into oxford, he just missed the highest grades, and he's reticent to tell his parents that he's working this job, especially because he used to be at a law firm.

we know the bouchards are a wealthy and influential family, and as sam speaks with a south asian accent I think it's safe to assume that his family immigrated. of course, there's a massive amount of variation in the socioeconomic statuses of south asian immigrant families in the UK, and I don't know enough about how british gifted kids programs work to know if sam having been in a bunch of them would imply anything about his parents' disposable income, but nonetheless I still think their different backgrounds potentially say a lot about how they handle these feelings of not meeting the high standards that were expected of / promised to them. gwen is fighting to be on the same level of social status and power as her peers, and sam probably felt like he was he had opportunities for upward mobility in this brand new place but kept failing them. it's causing both of them to be very active characters, they are the two people pushing the story forward the most by far, but the ways in which they are active diverge greatly.

gwen, until recently, had felt like she was unfairly stagnating, like she was "not most people" and was cut out for better, and being constantly barred from climbing the ladder made her both resentful of lena and extremely paranoid / insecure about her own worth. now that she's starting to crack it into the "real work," it's obviously taking a great toll on her, but she doesn't want to back out, she wants to prove herself and take what's rightfully hers and not show herself to be unfit for real power. her actions appear to be guided by an ethos that her life hasn't been wasted yet, she still has time to make good, she just needs to ignore that weakness masquerading as a conscience, please god don't let her fail.

sam feels like he's made mistake after mistake after mistake and led himself to his own desperate state where he only just managed to avoid destitution because his ex was kind enough to hook him up with an emergency job that is actively destroying his physical and emotional health, and he has pinned all this frustration on trying to figure out what the magnus institute was all about and why it didn't choose him. like gwen, great things were expected of him, but unlike her he doesn't seem to still be striving for them, that dried up when he had a breakdown at his last job. now he just wants to figure it out and make sense of it, as if solving the mystery will let him fix it and undo all that time and un-waste his promised potential. his actions seem to be guided by an ethos that, even though he's already screwed everything right up, solving the ghosts that haunt his life will some how lessen their burden and maybe, just maybe, give him closure on the Flaw That Doomed Him and allow him to move past it without dragging it still forward.

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #marina marvels at life

[foldingfittedsheets]

I had this friend I was living with when I was getting my associates degree in my early twenties. Wait, hang on. So the first thing I need to convey about that time in my life is that I was as full of anxiety as it was possible to be.

I was working, taking classes, and living on my own for the first time. I was drowning. I was a bubbling kettle of stress and responsibilities all waiting to boil over at any moment. Bodies are fickle things. They all react to stress very differently. My body decided that the best possible way to deal with stress was to puke about it.

This was extremely unwelcome not just because throwing up is a violently uncomfortable experience but also because I struggled most of my life to maintain a healthy weight. I’d eat enormous portions but even when my food stayed down I burned through calories like a hummingbird. I tended to hover right around a hundred pounds, desperately trying to gain weight.

My friends were all aware of my struggles. They’d keep granola bars on them for when I suddenly got so hungry I was sick and made me calorie dense meals. They knew the face I made when I realized I was going to be sick and usually had water and back rubs for me afterward.

So that’s where I was. Throwing up generally at least once a week, working and school full time. I was living with three friends. Let’s call them K, D, and E. K and I had been friends since middle school and she and I shared a bedroom with our own bathroom. The boys D and E shared a room, and had the public bathroom.

The last thing you need to know is that D was a sex addict. He was always horny, masturbated several times a day, and made no secret of his proclivities. It was a running joke within the friend group. (As an aside he once had his car broken into while transporting his duffel bag of sex toys to and from a liaison, and the thief ignored everything else in the car to take the toys. It was probably over a thousand dollars of used sex toys but the thief still wanted it more than his iPod)

One night I was doing homework and dinner was sitting poorly. I hadn’t fully developed my brain yet to make a connection between my paper was stressing me out to the fact that I suddenly felt really sick. But to my dismay K was in our bathroom.

So I jumped up, frantically ill, and ran across the living room to the boys toilet to barf.

The walls were thin.

Within a few minutes D came in with a cold wash cloth. He put it on my neck and rubbed my back. He’d brought a glass of water for me, too, which was all very lovely.

When I was done we sat in the miserable aftermath of this latest episode in stomach violence. He finally broke the silence to comment, “I’ve never lost an erection as fast as I did hearing you start puking.”

#ramblies #ffs foibles #funny #I stopped puking shortly after meeting my beloved actually #I had started eating better on my own but they have a lovely calming presence and things improved a lot for me when we started dating #writing #story #real life #cw vomit

[chrollohearttags]

settling in • a. artlert

moving into a new place with your fiancée and he has the perfect idea to get you two acquainted with it!

word count: 3.9K

pwp, black fem reader, nursing au plotline, lowkey filthy smut, spit play, he fucks reader in a chair, praise kink, squirting, oral (f. receiving) brief a eating (iykwim), fingering, creampie, full nelson, pet names + daddy is used.

it’s been forever and fifteen days since I’ve written for my pooh bear armeen (I lowkey missed him) and writing so here we are

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *

“Is that it?”

“Yeah..looks like it was the last one. Finally.”

a heavy sigh of relief, along with a wave of pride came rushing over the twenty four year old as he faintly kicked the door shut and locked it behind himself and his beautiful bride to be. Carrying in the remaining boxes from a long and daunting move. It was a surreal moment to say the very least. Neither of you could believe that in just a few months, you’d be marrying the love of your life, with successful jobs and what seemed like a far off reality, now owning your place. A single family home with two bedrooms and two baths, a beautiful kitchen and everything that you could’ve ever wanted! If anyone had told you guys that this would be your future, you’d never believe them. It seemed like just yesterday, the two of you were partying and doing dumb, dangerous things. Now, (y/n) was working as a Human Resources manager and in the same hospital where your soon to be husband worked as a registered nurse. It was ideal in all the ways imaginable. Armin Artlert was always regarded as someone who was extremely intelligent with a good head on his shoulders. Someone who’d undoubtedly walk the straight and narrow..unfortunately, he veered from that path when he met you. Not so much that you dragged him down or deterred him from his goals, but you kept him good and preoccupied! Meeting for hookups when the both of you should have been studying. Him snatching you from class early just to smoke you out and have sex..it was very unbecoming of both of you and although you were both madly in love, it wasn’t enough and you made the heartbreaking decision to separate for a while. At least until your goals were met and you were both in a good place. Fast forward almost two years and your lives couldn’t be better. On the day of his nursing school graduation, Armin dropped to a knee in front of everyone and asked you to be his wife. He knew he couldn’t go a step further into his future unless you were right there beside him, to do it for eternity. And with bells, you accepted! Nearly ruining your makeup after his doting speech. Now, things were looking brighter than ever and you both had so much to look forward to. In both your personal lives and careers..

“…we really did it, huh?” The tears welled in your eyes at the uttering of the words. Truthfully, you were overcome with emotion. Especially because you’d never imagined this life for yourself..a wife, a career woman or homeowner. It felt like something you’d never even dreamed of and yet, you were thankful you’d crossed paths with this man. You loved Armin so much and you were so glad that there was no question, that he was all yours. And that this life? It was one that you were going to build together.

“Yes we did..and I’m so proud. Of both of us. I love you, (y/n).” Softly muttering with his hands cradling your own; pulling you closer towards him as he wrapped you in an embrace. “Hey angel..what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” It was inevitable, truly. You were always so emotional..so loving with a sensitive nature but he couldn’t understand why you’d be shedding tears at such a joyous occasion. Even so, he held you close and even swiped your tears away with tender kisses. “I’m sorry..I’m just so happy. ‘S all..” he didn’t hold it against you though. It was quite overwhelming to think about but right now, his focus was on celebration and enjoying your new space. Cradling you to his chest, your fiancé placed a kiss atop your head and cupped your face in his palms. “Well I am too. I love you so much, you know that right?” His cheeks flustered red and raised from ear to ear as he just examined you for a moment. You were so beautiful, he honestly couldn’t believe that he’d be spending the rest of his life, waking up next to this beautiful face. That gorgeous skin, those prominent yet delicate features. Everything about you made his heart flutter..

“I love you too, so much more..”

but alas, it wasn’t the only organ that you seemed to garner a reaction out of..whilst standing there; his frame towering slightly above your own, Armin couldn’t help but to ponder on those past memories. All of those wild nights together..the partying, the drinking and of course, the steamy, late night sexscapades you two partook in. It was truly the highlight of your week and now, you could do so whenever you wanted. Living under the same roof. For the time that he was away from you, Armin had spent many nights thinking of all the things he’d do once he got you back in his life. How he’d spoil you, how'd he cherish you, the way he’d make a conscious effort every single day to show his affection…and of course…

“Mm, is that so? You think you love me more?”

how he’d make love to you in a way that’d transcend all of the drunken, weed fueled sex you’d had in the past! This time was different, more intimate and far more special than all those times before. He wanted you to know that above all else, you were his number one priority.

“Yes I do..” smirking whilst a finger trailed down his chest and back up to his chin; chewing at your lower lip and glancing up at him. It wasn't hard to deduce what was on both of your minds at the moment. The teasing, the playful banter..it was all bound to lead to one thing.

“Well I don’t think that’s possible, babe. I mean…I could just show you how much I adore you…— just then, you’d feel his lips move to your neck and snake up to your ear, where he whispered. “But I don’t think you could handle that.” Still cradling you close. Meanwhile, his ink laden hands; decorated in beautiful tattoos, snakes around to your backside and squeezed it tightly. He’d been trying to contain himself all day but watching you strut about, carrying item after item into your new home, in nothing more than a thin tank top and shorts that had your plump ass swaying with each step. The way your soft skin absolutely flowed underneath the sunlight, almost as if you were some sort of deity, and his favorite…those perfectly round tits sitting up in that shirt. He had to exercise all of his restraint not to rip you out of it right there! But now, you were alone and nothing could stand in the way of it. Besides, what better way to break the new place in?!

“Oh trust, honey. I’m a big girl…I can take whatever you throw at me.” Alluding to much more suggestive things. “Good to know..” There was no need in beating around the bush so with that declaration, Armin roped those hands around the back of your neck as the gap between your bodies closed. It wasn’t long before you were snaking your tongues down each other’s throats, biting at the other’s lower lip and whimpering into the kiss. The teeming passion and unbridled lust that had been bubbling inside of you guys could no longer be sated. Eventually, you found yourselves, trying to rip each other out of your clothes and you’d subtly walk backwards until your calves were knocking against the new recliner..not even out of its plastic yet. (Y/N) took a seat and lowered Armin with you as your hand cradled the back of his head. He didn’t waste any time in teasing you as he was certain you’d become all flustered and just beg him relentlessly. He did however, pull away and tug your tank top down with him. Revealing those beautiful breasts and erect nipples. Those perfect brown buds quickly disappeared into his mouth and he’d suckle; whimpering out of pure pleasure.

“Mmmph..I definitely missed this..”

a look of deviation shrouded his face as he cupped your tits into his palms and ravaged them. “I can tell…mmm!..” He always did have a fixation on your chest and would get lost in foreplay alone. Licking, suckling and latching onto them as he fingered you slowly. Slender digits buried to the hilt inside of you..you’d be left a dripping puddle of cream by the time he finished.

“Put those legs up here for me…” instructing you to place your calves on either side of the chair arms and spread yourself open. To which you’d happily comply…ready to show him exactly how needy and desperate you were for things to escalate. “Thereee we go. God, I can’t wait to taste you..” eagerly rubbing your thighs and leaving a trail of kisses along the insides, even licking all around the skin, just to garner a reaction. He could tell by the way you chewed your finger, you were burning up with equal anticipation to have him devour you..so with those legs parted wide, Armin placed both palms flat into your skin and pinned you down, after removing your shorts and tugging that thong to the side. Part of him wanted to sit here and admire you and the other half just wanted to feast hungrily on this pretty cunt of yours. Dredging his fingertips slightly over the slick lined opening, he’d suck his teeth; grunting and moaning for you..

“This pussy’s so fucking fat..and pretty. And she’s so wet f’r me already…”

just doting on your sex as he peeled the hood of your clit back with his thumb pad to stroke it. Meanwhile, you were about to come undone from anticipation and teasing. Clutching your tits, (y/n) bit your lip once more and whimpered, all but begging him to quit stalling. “Baaabe. Please..” which did nothing more than rile him up even more and give him the deeper urge to mess with you. “What’s the matter? Something on your mind, gorgeous?” Which only earned him a flustered laugh and the cutest plea as you bucked your hips towards his face and against his fingers. Armin was notorious for making you wait and beg for it..something about watching you writhe and moan, begging for him to touch you just really turned him on. “C’mon, baby..if you want something, say it. I’ve got all night..” chuckling with that deviant, icy glare in his eyes. Those blue lens’ fixated on you with precision..he wasn’t moving until he heard the fateful words exit your lips and luckily for the both of you…it didn’t take long to crack!

“Mmmph…just eat my pussy, please..fuck I need it. Need you so bad..”

and with that declaration, Armin felt confident in giving you what you desired.

“Aw, is that it?…well why didn't you just say so, sweetheart?” Just then, with his gaze still very much fixated on his girl, the mischievous blonde slid one single digit inside of you as he watched your reaction shift..pleasure struck all over your face as he finally made contact with that entrance. It had admittedly been nearly a month since the two of you engaged in any sort of sexual activity. With this move, transitioning into new jobs and such, it barely left time for each other. Life hadn’t seemed to slow down at all. However, this was your chance to atone for that and best believe you were going to spend the rest of the night, up until the morning doing so. All in the comfort of your new home.. “You know I aim to please..” finally snaking his tongue out, Armin lapped it against your clit and began swirling it around those folds. Flicking it in and out, suckling and slurping…he didn’t hold back on his little feast. Meanwhile, that finger was still working your over to relieve that tightness. He’d add a second one eventually and pump that little hole while continuing to eat your pussy mercilessly. “Oh fuck…s’ good. Right there, baby..yes..” you’d claw at the unwrapped cushions but he’d instruct you to place your hands elsewhere, wanting you to guide him along for your pleasure. “Pull my hair, baby ... .put that shit in my face..” cursing under his breath as his ascent into your sex continued. Latching onto your clit, Armin suckled on it for a full minute whilst pumping those two digits in and out…by this time, a puddle had begun to form underneath your ass. The pearly shade adding such a beautiful contrast on your skin.

“You’re creaming already, babe? Ooh..you gotta save some for me..need to feel that.” Even so, Armin persisted and kept devouring that delicious cunt whilst your fingers snaked between his blonde tresses and tugged him along. Your head dangled back in pleasure as you cried out, pushing yourself into his face. He was so enamored with the way you reacted to him. The way it spasmed around those knuckles, the way you leaked even more, those sweet juices trickling down his chin, when he touched the tip of his tongue to your aching little bud and especially when he momentarily flicked himself around your other entrance and caused you to release another pretty whimper. “Somebody likes that..sticking my tongue in that pretty little asshole. I think you might come if I keep doing that.” Which made you both giggle. “Yeah..feels so fucking good though.” He’d pause for a brief moment, letting you both recuperate and that’s when you’d all but demand that he give you what you really needed. But not without a little persuasion, of course!

“What was that? You want what?”

“For you to fuck meee..”

drawing out your words in a flustered whine, jolting around as he stroked himself underneath, mocking and taunting your pleas. “To fuck you?” “Yesss, I need that dick so bad.” By this time, you were playing with yourself to quell your urges. Unable to wait for him to do so. “Aw, somebody’s needy today. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.” Reassuring you as he rose to his feet. Just then, Armin would lob a trail of spit in between your folds and simultaneously grasp the base of his cock, stroking upwards to get himself aroused. Which was already in play…between eating you out and those adorable whimpers, he was aching to sink himself inside of you. “Look what you did to me…fuck, you turn me on so much, baby..” crying out in that whiny yet sultry tone; sucking his teeth and glaring down at you as he aligned himself with your slit. Tapping that aching head against your entrance, Armin slowly but surely teased the tip right up against you. But alas, you were growing impatient. So with your legs spread wide, feet brushing his forearms and a direct view of both of your lower halves, you’d reach forward to help guide him..

“You gonna put it in for me?” Prompting you to nod and lick your lips as your flesh finally met. “Go ahead, beautiful. This is your dick, you use me how you want to..”

and with that, you’d feed that stiff, throbbing cock into you until it reached the halfway mark. The initial sensation caused both of you to erupt into loud groans and expletives..he was rather girthy despite his lanky stature but he certainly didn’t lack in size either..nearing around seven or so inches with round, plump balls. It was perfect..even so, you were still one and only weakness. He didn’t want to sit idle but he felt the second he began thrusting, his clock would proceed to tick as well..fearful that he may not last as long as he’d hope for. “Fuck, fuck…you’re so tight, angel.” Gripping the back of his chair, he’d attempt to regain his balance and establish a rhythm. Pounding slowly into you whilst not making direct eye contact. That would only shorten his stamina if anything..seeing that pretty face while he was in it? He’d fill you up on the spot.

“I remember when we first started having sex and I couldn’t last more than two minutes with you..” recollecting on your past hookups. Which prompted you both to laugh. Granted, you had only been with two other people prior to Armin, with one night stands but they were never memorable. Lasted all of ten minutes before you dipped..but with him? You could never forget it. Whether it was him being flustered and nervous because you felt way too good. So much so that he came in less than five minutes and was so embarrassed about it. But you thought it was adorable, actually. He was so doting, gentle and made sure you were okay the entire time. You two took the time to actually learn and explore one another’s bodies. Touching, massaging and even masturbating together..it was that sensuality that made it all the more special.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing…and you were the only one to ever make me come that hard.” Doting on your man as he slid in and out of you. (Y/N) slowly stroked your clit to match his pace, rolling those fingertips on that sensitive bud..

“And you stretch me out so fucking good, baby..mm, that dick feels so good..” “..yeah? Feel good, sweetheart? Like the way I’m fucking this little pussy?”

your encouragement seemed to incite something inside of him..just then, you’d feel those strokes get deeper and a tad bit faster. Jolting you around and making those perky titties away with each one. He still had his hands planted to the back of the chair but he was finally able to make eye contact with his beloved and when he saw your expressions, he just became more enthused to fuck you! He’d then snake the free hand around your throat and choke you slightly as he cooed to you. “It feels good when I’m pounding you, baby? Making that shit cream on me?..” Naturally, he knew the response just by your body language and enjoyed hearing you answer with soft whimpers and cries.

“Yes daddy, oh my gosh! You’re fucking me so good right now…’m gonna come.”

which he knew was no fake out. He could feel that grip tightening more and more by the second. And if that wasn’t any indication, the way you were smacking at his now exposed abs as he tucked the tail end of his shirt between his teeth, was more than enough. “Ooh, I know you do, angel. I can feel how close you are..you’re squeezing me. Tell me, are you gonna give me what I want?” Questioning as that clutched hand brought a thumb up to your soft lips, allowing you to suckle. You knew exactly what he was alluding to and truthfully, he had no other choice..you were prepared to let it all go for him. Whatever he desired..replacing that thumb pad with his own lips, Armin fed you a couple of sloppy kisses, before asking you once more and when you responded accordingly, all but begging him as he sped up again, he’d give you his permission and command..

“That’s all I needed to hear…come, now..” needless to say, he was not disappointed with the result. He’d meet you with as many strokes as possible, letting out tiny spurts of the sweet nectar until you’d all but push him out and squirt all over the place. Armin couldn’t help but to be overcome with excitement as he watched you make a giant mess because of him.

“That’s what I’m talking about, baby..come on this dick..fuuuck yes.” Meanwhile, you were trembling as the remnants of those juices exited your body and you were left trembling from the sensation. Yet you found yourself longing for more and it took your fiancé no time to notice. Leaning forward, he’d cup your face and swish his tongue around in your mouth. But even that wasn’t enough to sate his appetite for you. Because just when you thought he was about to reach that climatic peak along with you, you were in for another surprise. Coiling those legs tightly around his firearms, Armin tugged you closer and instructed you to grab him. “Wrap your arms around me, baby. Hold on.” With that, you found yourself hoisted midair and propelled onto his cock. The sensation is just as equally warming and comforting as the first time…he’d become a lot stronger than the Armin you met in highschool. A lot more muscular and a hell of a lot more confident..

“I swear I’ll never get tired of fucking you..feels so good every time I’m inside of you…don’t even wanna pull out..” as he thrusted and bucked his hips upward into you, he’d rattle off and sing your praises. You were reaching your breaking point but you couldn’t stop glaring into his eyes. Wanting to reach that peak together..needing to watch his reactions. You were fixated, obsessed with one another..madly in love. And you were going to consummate that very love in your new home. “Kiss me..kiss me while I come in that pretty pussy..please..” all but begging as your lower halves smacked together in a sticky sheath. Flailing your head back, (y/n) cried out and clawed your nails into his neck, begging for all he had whilst hammering into that tight cunt. “Just like that, Armin! Right there, baby..” Your tongues clashed in a heated twist of passion and before long…

“Oh fuck..oh fuck..I’m coming, baby..” he couldn’t contain himself any longer and those thrusts became sporadic, a lot more uncontrollable and before long, he was pouring every drop of that warm seed into your womb. Tugging you down and keeping you in place until he couldn’t spill another drop. You’d both release ear shattering cries, laced with passionate ‘I love you’s’ as you rode out those orgasms in unity. It was certainly a night that neither of you would ever forget.

“I’m so happy I get to do this for the rest of my life with you..and to call you my wife.”

Chuckling as the two of you engaged in tender kisses. Letting your bodies become enraptured in the moment. Finally allowing it all to sink in..

“Yeah, you’re stuck with me..get used to it.”

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way. Who else is going to be

From mere strangers to absolute lovers, hooking up to coming home together.. it was funny how life worked…years ago, you’d never imagined that this would be your future. But now? You couldn’t picture a world where this man was not a part of it. You’d cherish this night, this moment and the beautiful ones to come, as long as he was by your side.

#cherry’s works ✦⭒ #armin artlert #armin arlert #black fem reader #black reader #aot au #armin arlert x black reader #aot x black reader #armin aot #armin x black reader #aot fanfiction #aot x black y/n #aot drabbles #armin arlet smut #aot smut #smut #black reader smut #armin x black y/n #armin arlet x reader #armin #aot armin #armin smut #armin x reader #armin x y/n #hospital au #armin x you #armin arlet headcanons #cw smut #snk smut #snk

[unholyhelbig]

fuck yes wandanat!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 1/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 3977

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Being buried alive, claustrophobia, guns, general violence, cold leftovers and horrible grammar.

[a/n: Let me know if anyone wants to join the taglist! I should be able to post every week to bi-weekly depending on some travel! This is setting some things up, but I promise it gets better.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The weight of dirt was beginning to make the lid of the state provided casket buckle. It wasn’t very sturdy despite its drastic price that the government contemplated paying. It would have been easier to cremate, send you into the afterlife with the kiss of fire white-hot enough to melt bone. But your will had been specific, not necessarily written by you, but detailing that you must be buried, nonetheless.

No state representative wanted to have the ghost of a twenty-something paralegal on their hands. Though most were Roman Catholic and believed whole-heartedly that once a candle was lit in recognition a spirit couldn’t possibly seek vengeance. Still, they respected your wishes.

No, not your wishes. You were too young to even think of a will, or any specifications that would result in your burial. You still swallowed two cans of candle-flavored alcoholic seltzer with your sad dinner of microwaveable lasagna. You hadn’t made a habit of signing legal documents between sloppy bites and buzzed naps in the sun.

Which begged the question of why you were in a casket in the first place, and why dirt was starting to sprinkle down from the creaking wood above. Doctors made mistakes, but burying you alive? Well- shit, that was less of a mistake and more of a deliberate ignorance.

Your body was stiff, cold and unwelcoming to the life that suddenly thrummed through you. Maybe you had been dead. Nothing two full bottles of Advil couldn’t ebb out of you. Your fingertips pushed against the fabric lining, testing the validity of the box you were in.

This was all somehow extremely familiar; the darkness that swam around you, the putrid scent of your own breath after being beneath the earth for God knows how long. You could taste the film on your teeth and almost craved a toothbrush more than you did freedom. Almost.

Despite the pain in your calves, you situated yourself to where your feet pressed against the lid. With just a little leverage maybe you could push hard enough to free yourself. There was a rhythmic shoveling above; so you weren’t completely packed in yet.

Suddenly, very thankful for the yoga classes Jennifer was making you take, you maneuvered until you got enough strength to push. For a few agonizing moments, nothing budged except your spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A few more breaths and a harder push and the latches on the outside of the casket seemed to give way to the pressure with a small pop. You could taste dirt, feel it in your eyes.

Another brisk shove and the lid flung off it’s hinges, crashing loudly against the meticulously carved grave. You winced at the cold soil that suddenly surrounded you. Worms squirmed against your skin and that was enough for you to sit up with gusto, holding back a stomach full of vomit. Formaldehyde? It tasted terrible, either way.

You shivered and dusted yourself off. It was either early morning or just before dusk. You couldn’t tell but the electric blue sky had just started to fade to orange. You wouldn’t have been able to handle the sun being in full force, barely blinking away the color of the world, much brighter than the dark box you’d dismantled.

And boy, did you dismantle it. You’d only intended to push it up, free yourself, but the cheap wood had splintered and crumbled under just a little force. You stood in the wreckage and peered up at the company you had obtained.

“What the fuck?!”

It was a man who looked younger than you in his fear. He held a shovel in his hands, hugging it close to his chest. His mouth was slightly opened and his deep brown eyes were widened in fear and shock. The knees of his dark blue jumpsuit were stained with dirt and water.

“Can you give me a boost?” You croaked.

“A boost… I, fuck, I shouldn’t’ have taken this job.”

“You can quit after you help me out of this hole.” You shivered, looking down at the dirt below your feet. You swore you saw it pulse like a heartbeat. Too many worms, maybe even a few spiders. You’d never been too fond of bugs. You reached your caked hand up. “Please.”

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be patient zero.”

“Do I look like a zombie to you?”

“A little,”

“Now I’m offended and freezing my ass off.”  

He regarded you, probably checking for a nasty festering bite, yellowing skin and any general signs of reanimation. When he didn’t find any, he reached a shaking hand down to you. Both of you struggled and strained until you found the perfect hold on the side of the grave. God- you were never so happy to touch grass.

You panted and stared up at the sky, stars were starting to pockmark the navy blue. It was, in fact, night. The metal tip of a shovel was pointed towards your neck. “Aw, come on, I thought we bonded there.”

“I’m talking to a corpse, we are not bonding.”

“Where are we?” You ignored his pointed stare and tilted yourself up on your elbows. A cemetery was the easy answer. But you wanted to know which one. There were at least 1,700 in the state of New York alone, and they all looked deceivingly the same. “Do I have to take a cab to Manhattan?”

“Uh, you’re in White Plains. Mount Calvary cemetery. I’m- I’m sorry, is this not freaking you out at all?”

You frowned, patting the pockets of a pair of jeans (why the hell would they bury you in jeans, they were the worst). In a long exhale you said. “Shit. I think worms ate my cash.”

It was a longshot to even think that your phone would be in your pocket. It wasn’t. But that left you stranded almost an hour, by car, outside of the city. It would be morning by the time you made it back and that was if no-one pulled up to the side of the road and tried their luck.

You did the only thing you can think of and peered up at this stranger with watery, wide eyes. It wasn’t a move you pulled often, meaning it still worked on Jennifer, on your mother and your father. This was a last resort and you were certainly willing to use it to your advantage.

“What? No.” He shook his head “No! No! Absolutely not. You just dug yourself out of a grave I fucking refuse-“

His name was Austin and he drove a 2002 Ford that needed to warm up for a few minutes before he even considered pulling out of the gravel drive. He was pressed as far as possible away from you and that didn’t exactly boost your confidence, but honestly, truthfully, you would take what you could get at this point.

Austin asked if you were freaking out, and you were. Everything was patchy and black in some places. You couldn’t remember how you’d ended up in a casket. It was clearly a situation that irked you for more than one reason. The forefront of which; no one had attended your funeral.

You weren’t even from White Plains. You’d known from your day job that this place had more than one government funded cemetery. So, most likely, you were given a half-rate priest with liquor on his breath and a funeral director that may have taken the twenty from your pocket, not the worms.

Your stomach clenched as Austin began to drive. He was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, and could you blame him? A corpse was in his passenger seat. Though, you felt alive enough.

“What’s your name?” He eventually asked, flicking on his high beams. You were on a long and deserted road flanked by oak trees. The occasional field passed by, the reflective quarter-sized eyes of cows blinking at the truck. “Frankenstein?”

You snorted, “Ha-ha. Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, you know? And I don’t remember my pitiful grave being struck by lightning.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Perhaps.”

“Pitiful? Really? I work hard to maintain those graves.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely.” There was a rolling beat of silence. He glanced at you twice before shrugging his shoulders and leaning his chest closer to the wheel to see better. “It’s y/n. Wasn’t it written on the stone?”

Austin shook his head softly, “No, they don’t put the stone in until later. I’m supposed to spray paint a neon ‘x’ on the packed dirt, so they know what to make.”

How humiliating. You’d supposedly died, no one came to your funeral, and you were reduced to less than a quarter of spray paint. There was a system to everything, but this one made your self-importance fizzle out like a covered candle. There one moment and gone the next.

“Do you have a plan?” Austin changed the subject.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, like, are you just going to show up and say surprise, I’m alive? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and that never goes well.”

Well, that was your plan. It was a damned good one too. There was nowhere else for you to go. While this near stranger was nice enough, you couldn’t impose on him for more than a single ride. His kind chocolate stare was telling enough. He would let you stay with him as long as it took to figure all of… this, out.

“Yeah,” You sighed out, leaning your head against the cool glass “That’s all I’ve got.”

Jennifer’s apartment building had a small box that required a code for entry. You knew the right numbers to press in the right order, they had faded away from regular use, but the door was always propped open by a cinderblock to let in the cool summer air.

If it rained hard enough, New Yorkers would take partial shelter under the awnings, and sometimes going as far as to loiter in the front lobby by the large set of mailboxes. They were the oldest and most fascinating part of the building, large and wrought iron. Allegedly, they’d survived three building fires.

Thankfully, no one but you stood in the lobby as you watched Austin’s taillights flicker out of existence. You’d have to thank him later- of course, you hadn’t gotten his number, but you knew where her work. At least where he worked up until now.

Escorting someone who had kicked their way out of their own grave back into the city was grounds for quitting, in your book.

The elevator was the second oldest thing in the building, but you somehow felt a wave of relief wash over you when the familiar warmth pressed against your skin. The mechanics jolted and hummed like an old lawn mower. All of these were comfortable.

Hunger tinged at your stomach in one fail swoop of feeling. You steadied yourself against the reflective interior of the elevator as it rose to the highest floor. Each number was signified in a loud and crude beep. You were tempted to hit the emergency stop; gaging the feeling in your abdomen.

Brains?

Yeah, the thought of them was absolutely unappetizing. Austin had gotten into your head. There was no innate need to dig your teeth into flesh and devour. In fact, you became more nauseous at the idea than before it popped into your head.

Zombies were chained to shitty horror movies you and Jennifer curled up to watch every Friday night, making fun of the gelatin that was used for wiggly guts and the cooked rice substituted for maggots. You could go for rice right now.

Knowing your best friend, she would have some sort of left-over cuisine in her fridge and you didn’t hesitate to run your fingers over the top of the doorframe to procure her hidden key, taped with a single strip of adhesive to the surrounding paneling.

Her apartment was dark save for the small tank with a one-finned goldfish named Gus. He barely regarded you, the dull buzz of his home and the pale blue light gave you all the vision you needed. Again, the familiarity of Jennifer’s apartment warmed you, comforted you. If you stopped for too long, you’d think about it all too much.

Waking up in a grave, not remember how you got there in the first place. When was the last time you’d had a meal? You’d purposefully avoided the side mirrors in Austin’s car, even the rearview was gently nudged by your dirt-caked hand. One thing at a time.

The fridge swung open with a satisfying pop and you were never more thankful for the red and white takeout containers that rested on the top shelf next to a box of wine. Neither of you ever claimed to be fancy.

You knew Jennifer’s order like the back of your hand. Sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice and no matter what, you would eat it cold. When the scent hit you, you even considered going forkless. If not for the slick dirt under your nails, you would have.

There was instant satisfaction in shoveling a mouthful of rice into your mouth, you barely chewed before swallowing. The neon light from the open fridge illuminated your shame and you swore that Gus, the one-finned fish, was judging you. He ate flakes for fucks sake, watching you spoon cold leftovers was the least of his worries.

You’d moved on from the rice and to the chicken before you noticed that you had company. It was a shift in the air, the feeling of being watched. But there was something more too, something like an itch on the back of your neck.

In a split second you turned from your cold meal and lifted your hand up with enough time to grip a wedge golf club that Jennifer had gotten from her father for her twenty-first birthday. They collected dust next to her coatrack, and right now, the metal edge was less than an inch away from slamming into the side of your temple.

You’d never been necessarily graceful, nor good at picking up on your surroundings. You never had to be, not with your work as a paralegal. The worst thing you had to look out for was a bad reaction to burnt office coffee.

Jenn was in an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her eyes were wild, hair even wilder. A bloom of fondness wash over you despite her attempt at assault. You couldn’t blame her either, your mind so one-track on getting a meal that you hadn’t warned your best friend, not in the slightest.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” she wrenched the club away from you and moved to swing again, holding it behind her head like a baseball bat.

“Jesus Christ! Oh my God, put the wedge down!”

“You’re not-“She gulped in a cold breath of air “you died!”

“Don’t hit me with that thing and kill me again!”

Her chest was heaving up and down, fingers tightening against the rubber grip handle. Her eyes were frantic. “Did you eat my leftovers?”

You blinked at her, not sure what to say. She didn’t give you a chance to answer either, instead she sprung forward and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathed her in, her scent of summer rain and freshly cleaned laundry. Her hair tickled your nose but you held her back, held her as if it were the last time you ever would.

Something softly broke within you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. They slid silently down your cheeks. The fridge closed with a padded thump and plunged you both into the neon blue glow. Eventually, the club fell to the floor with a clank and her fingers fisted your shirt. You were thankful that she didn’t use her full strength.

“How is this happening?”

“I don’t know,” You rasped.

And you didn’t. Everything was so fuzzy and each time you attempted to press the subject in your mind, you felt the start of a headache at the base of your skull. For now, you were perfectly content holding your friend flush against you.

“You smell so bad,” She sobbed.

“Yeah, well, I was dead.”

Jenn pulled back and squeezed both of your shoulders, studying you longer than you had studied yourself, her breath shuddered “Maybe this is one of those Halloween things, like… like you have one night back on earth.”

You gave her a weak smile “It’s June, Jenn.”

She frowned at you, fingers pressing against your goosebump covered skin. “Sweetie, it’s October. You’ve been… gone, four months.”

But you hadn’t been buried since June. You were barely buried this evening. Your body ached from how stiff the casket had been, fingers numbed from the cold. You figured you were jarred, not in a different season altogether.

“I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”  

She swallowed hard, linking her hands behind your, they rested at the base of your spine. You could tell that she was afraid to release her hold on you. Her breath was warm against your collarbone.

“You were hit by a car that blew through a redlight.”

Okay- anticlimactic. You worked alongside Jennifer at Goodman, Lieber, Kurzberg and Holliway on cases that were focused on Inhumans, superheroes and supernatural beings that had gotten themselves into legal trouble. Being taken out by a car accident wasn’t on your top-five ways to go.

“It was all very… weird. They wouldn’t’ let me see you, and at first, I thought it was because we’re not family, but they didn’t let them in either. I even pulled the attorney card, which I’m not proud of, but they refused to let us even identify you.”

She withdrew her touch and started to pace around the kitchen. It was her way of thinking, and now that she was sure that you were a solid being, she was free to move around. “Even when I got six feet tall, mean and green, they wouldn’t let me in. I was two seconds from calling Bruce.”

Jenn stopped and lifted both eyebrows at you “You look remarkable for someone who has been under the earth for months.”

“I was being buried today in White Plains. I’m assuming there was no funeral, then?”

“No… no. They had said that private arrangements had been made and it’s my guess that those were keeping you on ice until now.”

You winced at the phrasing. You were never too fond of hospitals and the blocks in your memory scared you more than anything. If what Jennifer was saying was right, then, you may not have died in that intersection. You may have been through something much, much worse.

“Sorry,” She sighed out, desensitized just as you were. “Y/n, you can’t remember anything?”

“No,” The word came out as a broken whisper.

The two of you stood in a quiet moment. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you held onto that feeling. It was there, you were there, pockmarked memory and all. You felt the urge to reach out and hold Jennifer again, suddenly so exhausted you didn’t’ imagine your legs holding you up much longer.

Her eyes flickered down to the center of your chest and then back up to your stare with an immeasurable amount of fear. When you gazed down at the dirt-stained shirt, you saw a red dot, quivering as if a hand was behind it’s direction. Your shoulders slumped.

“aw, fuck.”

Jennifer let out a scream as her front door was splintered open and flung with great force across the room. The two windows that overlooked the view of the city shattered as heels broke against the panes. The one singular dot had changed to seven, long-range rifles aimed at you, and you were suddenly very sad that your last meal would be cold leftover rice.

Even in the dark, you knew that they had knocked over the fishtank holding Gus, multicolored rocks and glass slid across the wooden floor. There were light gray circles against the breasts of these intruders, a bird with outstretched wings in it’s center.

Your hands went up reflexively, both you ducked behind the breakfast nook, you were close to plugging your ears, the red dots trained on the fridge now, “Oh my god, did you call SHIELD?”

“No! No, I didn’t even know you were alive three minutes ago, I was going to hit you with a golf club and call the cops, not SHIELD.”

They were assholes and tight-lipped about everything, always. It was hard to get a phone call back from them divulging information about ongoing lawsuits, but now they were in front of you, guns raised and depriving Jennifer’s fish of life.

“Gus is going to drown,” You whispered harshly back.

“He’s a fish, he can’t drown.”

“In air.”

There was obvious shifting of firearms. The Agents were all calculated and still with their movements, there wasn’t subtle noise without intent. A gruff, raspy female voice called out to you. “Come out with your hands up, y/n.”

You peaked over the breakfast bar and squinted into the darkness. Your body was not equipped for this. It was already protesting from kicking open the casket with a bought of strength. It certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Most of the agents were in swat gear, bullet-proof vests and helmets, their faces were covered with balaclava’s, leaving only small strips of exposed skin and eyes trained on you. You hadn’t had this much attention directed at you since your fifth-grade talent show, and you figured the last time would be your funeral, but that hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

The woman who was speaking was in a tactical suit. She didn’t’ bother to cover her identity, she didn’t have to. This was the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Jennifer had gotten drunk one night after a losing case and told you about her cousin having a bit of a fling with her. You’d met Bruce, and that was… unbelievable in the nicest way possible.

Her emerald eyes were trained on you, serious and hard. A tingle ripped up your spine and your stomach squirmed at her scrutiny. Maybe it was the rice and the chicken, but you felt the urge to vomit. You wanted her to say your name again, despite not understanding why she knew it in the first place.

Jennifer gripped your ankle, shaking her head ‘no’ vigorously. Really, you should trust your lawyer friend.

The Black widow let out a sigh, the tip of her handgun pointed to the ground. “You can either come out, or I’ll blow a hole through your chest. Your choice.”

Your gaze flashed down to Jenn and she seemed to have changed her mind within a second, nodding with caution. “Okay, okay.”

Once you were at full height, the room bustled in movement. Your eyes remained on the Black Widow, and hers on yours. Your mouth felt dry, the tip of her gun pushing against your ribs before she flipped you and bent you over the granite counter. Jennifer was using her heels to scoot back to the fridge, trying to avoid the agents swarming around.

Metal cuffs were slapped against your wrists. The Black Widow was pressed flush against you, her warmth dominating. She grasped the back of your shirt and pulled you up. You were, for a fleeting moment, at her mercy. Her fingers searched your pockets, padded down your sides. Once she figured you clean, she holstered her weapon. “Y/n Y/l/n,” she husked in your ear. You suppressed a shiver, knowing she’d feel any move you made right now. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Taglist: No one yet :(

#natasha romanov #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Wanda Maximoff #Wanda Maximoff x reader #Black widow #Black widow x reader #Scarlet witch #Scarlet witch x reader #Wandanat #Wandanat x reader #Marvel #Jennifer walters #She-hulk

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shot Through The Heart III

Alexia Putellas x Archer!Reader

Summary: You're pregnant

"Don't."

Alexia backed away quickly, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

"I was just-"

"No."

"Amor-"

"No, Alexia. I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

You got to your feet and stretched, ignoring the way that Alexia hovered uncertainly as you balanced the laundry basket on your hip on your way up the stairs.

"I can carry it." She trailed you everywhere you went. "You shouldn't be carrying such heavy things. The babies-"

"The babies will be fine and, unless you're going through twenty kits daily, this basket barely weighs anything."

Your pregnancy hadn't come as a surprise. You and Alexia had been trying for a while before it worked. It had been decided that you would carry, your sport was a lot less physically taxing than Alexia's. It was all going smoothly until you had gone to a scan one day to find out that you weren't having one baby girl like you thought.

You were having two.

Alexia, of course, had taken mother henning to the extreme when she had found out, hovering incessantly and staying with you as long as possible before heading to practice.

That hovering nature had extended to every aspect of your life the moment that you started showing.

She trailed you up the stairs, opening the wardrobe doors for you when you started to fold the clothes.

"Alexia," You said in warning when she started dividing everything up.

"Amor," She said back," I'm just helping."

You swatted at her with a t-shirt. "You're being a nuisance and you're hovering. Again. Cut it out."

"I'm not hovering!" She insisted, still very clearly hovering.

"You are." You rolled your eyes, bending down to grab the socks that had fallen on the floor.

"I'm not!"

"Alexia," You said, putting the last of the laundry away," You are most certainly hovering." You turned to face her. "I'm fine. The girls are fine. Everything's fine."

She sighed, holding her breath in for a few seconds before releasing. "Okay. I'm sorry, amor. I just want to make sure all three of you are safe."

You press a kiss onto her cheek. "I know. If it didn't annoy me so much, I'd say it's cute how protective you are over us."

Alexia took a step forward and placed her hand daringly on your bump. "I just want you to be careful."

You rolled your eyes fondly. "What do you think I do all day while you're at work? I sit on the sofa all day and type on my laptop. You're lucky I love you or I wouldn't have taken a break from training so early."

Your bow was resting comfortably in the corner of the living room, just collecting dust after you put it aside as soon as you started to show.

You'd probably have gone on for a bit longer with your bow but it made Alexia antsy so you stopped and just continued with your interviews and writing so she would stop breaking out in hives every time you left her to go train.

Alexia spent most of her time with you on a good day but now that you were making a family together, she was adamant about staying with you until she absolutely has to. She stayed in bed for as long as possible in the morning and she didn't hang behind at training to speak with her teammates.

If the team wanted to go out together, she either bowed out or changed the get-together to your shared house so she could hold your hand and rest her head on your shoulder.

"Names?" You asked one evening as you rested on the sofa with Alexia massaging your swollen feet.

"Whatever you want," She replied," I don't mind."

"You must have some opinion, Ale," You said," Don't tell me you have no ideas."

"You're carrying them," Alexia said," You have all the power here, amor. I'm just happy that I'm the one you chose to take along for this ride."

"You're so sappy," You said with a fond eye roll," You have no opinions? What about middle names?"

Alexia's face got a little red and she couldn't meet your eyes for a moment. "I'd like for one to be Elisabet, after Mama."

"Good idea," You said," And for the other one?"

"I was thinking either Alba or María but I don't know if I want either of them to get a bigger head than they already have."

"I think if Alba's head gets any bigger then it might roll off her neck," You joked and finally got a little smile out of your wife.

"What about you?" She asked," You asked about names. You must have some in mind."

You stared at the picture of your most recent ultrasound, tracing over each of your babies.

"Baby A could be Elena," You said," Baby B...Maybe Maya."

"I like them," Alexia replied," Elena and Maya Putellas-l/n."

"Maya Elisabet," You smiled," And Elena...Well, you'll just have to decide which one you'd prefer to inflate the ego of."

"Elena María but Alba can be godmother."

Maya and Elena came into the world two days after an El Clásico win for Barcelona. Two little crying babies that fit easily in your arms rounded out a perfect week for you and Alexia.

"Perfect girls," Alexia said as she admired them before looking over at you in pure contentment," My three perfect girls."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 7] First Ultrasound

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

On what you’re assuming is the start of the third month of your pregnancy, you finally manage to make an appointment for your first ultrasound. You debate if you want to tell Toji or not. Would he want to come? You’re not too sure if you’re being honest. He’s told you that he wants to be the best possible father for your child, but you don’t trust him. Given his track record, you can’t exactly trust him.

“I’m just here to drop off your money.” Toji can easily transfer money through the bank monthly, but he chooses to give it to you. Every two weeks he’s at your door with your money. You agreed to quit your second job and take his money; you still have your second job, but the nights that you know he’s coming, you take off. Toji invites himself in even if he’s just handing you an envelope. He never comes just to give you that.

“How’s work?” You ask, closing the door when he enters your apartment. You find it ironic that you talk more now than when you were married. He actually engages in conversation now, and he tries to talk to you as well, asking how you’re doing.

“Exhausting.” He answers. You can tell that he’s been working more lately, or at the very least he’s not getting proper sleep. There’s visible bags under his eyes, and he’s slowly letting himself go, at least he doesn’t give the proper care since he has a bit of a stubble; he’s also due for a haircut. “How about you? How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing okay… I’ve been dealing with a bit of morning sickness but nothing crazy.” You answer. You leave out any other of your symptoms. How your breasts are sore, you’re extremely tired (which can also be alluded back to your second job), how you’ve suddenly been having the weirdest cravings. Sure, you’re talking, but you don’t want him to know more than necessary. You try to change the topic since you don’t like having the spotlight on you, “How’s Megumi doing?”

“He’s doing fine… He has a baseball game next Thursday, if you want to come.” He informs you and you take a note of it. You’ll try to go since you have a soft spot for Megumi, but you’re not certain that you’ll make it. 

“I’ll try. Hope I’m doing better then.” You respond. He slowly nods in response, and he tries to think of something to talk about, but nothing comes to mind so he begins to walk to the door. He won’t try to waste both of your time. Before his hand wraps around the doorknob, you speak up,

“Toji…” He completely stops. Not a single breath comes from him until you speak again, “I know that you’re busy so, I’m just inviting you to be courteous… I have my first ultrasound tomorrow, if you want to join me.”

“What time?” He asks, and you tell him. At noon. He nods, and tells you, “I’ll come pick you up.”

He stands still for a moment, wondering what to do next. Wondering if you’re going to do something else. You stand in completely awkward silence for a minute before Toji realizes that nothing else will happen, so he walks out. He doesn’t say goodbye, although you don’t mind it because he never does.

Toji hasn’t been a man that’s usually punctual, so you’re surprised when he’s early. You might’ve told him that the appointment was earlier than it actually is so you wouldn’t be late, but there’s not much you can do when he’s right in front of you, thirty minutes before your appointment. The place isn’t even a twenty minute drive.

“Hi.” You awkwardly smile at him. You notice how he’s finally shaved the stubble, and you’re curious if he did so last night or this morning. “So… I might’ve– The appointment was pushed back to twelve thirty.”

“Oh– Okay.” He answers. You almost tell him the truth, but it might incite an argument so it’s best if you ignore it and tell a little white lie. He won’t question much, he never does, so you’re safe. “Did you eat something already? Do you want to grab something to eat?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” You respond, and he nods his head. He isn’t going to argue with you that you should eat something regardless, you’re pregnant and you have to keep yourself healthy for the baby– He isn’t your father nor your husband, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. And while Toji wishes he could say he was worried about this pregnancy, he simply isn’t. As fucked up it is to even think about it, he’s more worried about you than the child you carry.

“What do you want to do then? Do you just want to head out and wait?” He asks, and you nod your head in response, if you get lucky, your appointment will start earlier. You disappear out of his sight for a moment to grab your purse, but you’re back quickly. You exit the apartment and you begin to walk to his car. 

The car ride is silent, you don’t have much to talk about. You don’t sense him being as excited… Or excited at all about this so you’re quiet. You don’t pay him any mind. You’re over the moon at the thought of looking at your baby for the first time. You’re in disbelief that you’re about to become a mother. Finally.

You get to the place and check in. Waiting feels interminable as you sit next to Toji. He simply looks around, while you begin to play a game on your phone. Toji finds himself bored, and since he doesn’t have anything interesting to do, he chooses to try and talk to you. He clears his throat, and speaks up, “So how far along are you anyway?”

“Hm… I think, maybe three months along? I do have a bit of a bump.” You share, and Toji’s brows raise, he looks over at you, but your shirt is baggy which doesn’t let him really figure anything out. His eyes keep staring, and he finds himself frustrated at the fact he doesn’t know. If you lived with him he’d see your body better, and he’d notice every small change. At least that’s what he thinks. 

Your name is called and you stand up, following the woman to the ultrasound room. Toji follows behind, walking much slower, trying to see if he does notice a bit of a bump. The previous night you were wearing a tank top– He didn’t notice anything then. He isn’t all too observant anyway so maybe he missed it.

Toji watches as you lay down, and you begin to talk to the technician. He doesn’t pay much attention to what’s going on between you two. Until you finally lift up your shirt, and he does see a bit of a bump. It’s nothing that’s really noticeable but it’s there when you lift up your shirt, it’s definitely something he would’ve noticed if you lived together. 

You squeal as the cold gel is poured on your abdomen, and the transducer is then pressed on your skin. Your eyes then fall on the monitor, and an immediate smile comes to your lips. A little kidney bean. Your eyes well up with tears as the technician points out their little head.

“It’s just one baby, right?” Toji asks, and the technician assures him that it’s just one baby. It makes him breathe a sigh of relief. He notices you stick out your bottom lip, and he rolls his eyes. You seriously didn’t want twins, did you?

You look over at Toji, trying to see if there’s a bit of excitement behind his eyes when he looks at the ultrasound, and while it’s not clearly written on his face, you see a spark in his eyes as he looks at the monitor. He perks up when he hears the sound of the baby’s heartbeats. It’s in that moment that Toji realizes just how big this is–

He’s a father, he knows the birth of a baby is a big deal. Toji would give up his life for Megumi. But your pregnancy… The beginning of it didn’t excite him the way that his first wife’s did. Maybe it’s because he was set on not being a father again, or maybe it’s because you’re separated. Perhaps it’s because even though he wanted to use your pregnancy as a means for you to stay, you still left. He’s just focused on you and your relationship, not the fact that he’s actually becoming a father again. Doing it all over again.

He isn’t sure if he’s ready to do it all over again; but he feels the excitement slowly grow by looking at his baby and listening to their heartbeat. It’s nothing too crazy though.

When the technician finishes up, you’re handed a napkin to wipe off the gel. You do so, and you’re told to wait for the doctor. You’re smiling foolishly, thinking that you’re becoming a mother even though you had given up on that dream a while ago. Given that dream up for the man that’s waiting next to you.

“You seem really excited.” Toji comments when you’re left alone. He watches your hand go to your lower abdomen as you look up at him.

“I am. I can’t wait to meet my baby.” You answer. Toji chuckles, your excitement radiating and infectious. “Do you want a baby boy or a girl?”

“Hmm… A baby boy since I already know how to deal with boys. I have no idea how I’d raise a girl.” He responds. “How about you? Do you want a girl or a boy?”

“I don’t have a preference, I just want a healthy baby. Boy or girl.” You reply, and Toji wonders if that’s how he should’ve responded. Would that have gotten him positive points with you? Did his response fuck everything up a little more?

The doctor walks in, and she tells you what you want to hear. The baby is healthy, and growing the way they should be. You’re around fourteen weeks along– Which means you’ll be due around December, and that you’re further along than what you assumed. Your baby wasn’t conceived the night that you told Toji you’d be leaving him.

You get your ultrasound pictures, and Toji takes two, even though he tries to act like he isn’t excited.

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

[seeingivy]

picnic

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

(^^make sure you check since this was a double upload and I posted the last one very recently :D)

--

dear head of the cullen clan,  keep evening plans open – im getting off work early and we’re going on a picnic.  coldest regards,  the head of the volturi  (ps. am expecting a very wholehearted appreciation for the fact that it’s coldest regards and not warmest regards, because they are, in fact, vampires and therefore cold. because they don’t have a heart and such.)  (extra ps. this is a link to a shared spotify playlist. i’ll add a song and then you add one. we’ll keep it going.) 

you snort. 

dear aro of the volturi (does he have a last name???),  so much to unpack in one email, yet again. you really know how to keep a girl on her toes.  first and foremost, you are SOOOO ran through. so offended that i wasn’t the person who got to put you on to twilight and whoever it was, I HOEP SHE DIES! if you’re team jacob, you’re a freak.  second, SO VERY FLATTERED that you think i would be carlisle. a little haunting that you think YOU would be aro…but it’s ok cuz former companions to enemies back to lovers in our case would be kind of crazy???  third. done and done. i just added a song so hurry up bc i have like ten other songs i want to add and i am #impatient  see u after work pookie :D,  carlisle cullen  (very appreciative of the cold regards. you are a king among men.) 

his response back is very prompt. 

Never call me pookie again.  (very offended that you think i’d be stupid enough to be team jacob. and direct your murderous rage towards yuuji and my mom, who forced me to watch it in theaters with them.) 

--

you wait for sukuna at the park two blocks down the apartment complex. the sun is hours away from dipping into the horizon, the chilly wind rustling through the trees. you realize now that the red skirt and white sweater might betray you in a few hours but decide that you’ll simply have to steal his jacket when he gets here. 

and you would have already but he’s twenty minutes late.

and while this part of the city is extremely safe, sukuna’s ever constant fear of people attacking you on subway trains and stabbing you in alleyways has instilled an acute fear of strangers in you, which is why you’re gripping the sparkly pink pepper spray he bought you very harshly in your palm right now. 

you think it’s sweet that he bought you a pink one. 

but of course it’s severely ironic that you almost used it on him. 

because he scares the living daylights out of you, by placing his hand around your shoulder from behind. 

“hey. i’m sorry i-” 

“jesus fuck-” 

you instinctively hold the pepper spray up to his face, your hands shaking in front of you. 

“i’ll use it, you pervert!” 

sukuna leans his head to the side, which is when you’re finally able to log that it’s actually him standing in front of you and not a stranger, and you drop your hands in embarrassment. 

“i mean, i’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t doll face but–” 

“oh my god, sukuna. i thought you were trying to rob me!” 

“i’m smarter than that. the only thing inside your purse is lip gloss, which has very little value to me.” sukuna responds, dropping the little basket at his feet and taking the little stalk of flowers out of the top handle. 

“i’ll have you know that it’s actually sold out in every store right now. so you could make bank if you sold it.” 

“don’t tempt me. and for your sake, i’ll accept the apology you didn’t give me for just trying to rob me of my eyesight and for calling me a pervert? i’m getting really tired of the age gap jokes, y/n.” sukuna responds, as he lifts your hands at your sides and places the stalk of flowers in your hand. 

you give him a big smile as you press your nose to the flowers, the scent fresh in your nose. and sukuna props down, setting a billowing white blanket on the ground before he taps the spot next to him and signals for you to sit next to him. 

“who needs eyes?” you joke, as you squeeze his hands and set the flowers down next to the little basket. 

“me, dipshit. how else am i supposed to look at you?” 

you cover your hands with your cheeks as you watch him place all of the little things inside the basket next to you, laying them out perfectly. it’s albeit a weird assortment – two wine glasses, perfectly wrapped sandwiches, a mini-cake, and strawberry lemonade. 

“well, stop perceiving me. this is so weird!” you murmur. 

it’s enough to catch his attention and stop him in his tracks. 

“what?” 

the question makes you pause. and a little embarrassed. it was a little harsh to say while you were joking.

“oh, i mean…i didn’t mean it like that! i was making a joke about perceiving because eyes…vision…and i almost took your vision away! and you perceive with your eyes, because how else would you see…” 

sukuna smiles, before shaking his head, and continuing spilling out the last of the contents – a set of gouache paints and two little small canvases. and he drops to his feet, yanking his shoes off, before sitting flat on the blanket and gesturing for you to join him. 

“there’s no way in hell that was what you meant. but we’ll ignore that for the time being.” sukuna responds, hiking his legs to his chest and gesturing towards the spread he just put out. 

you tilt your head to the side in confusion. 

“you look very pretty today.” sukuna responds. 

“thanks! you too!” 

he narrows his eyes. 

“uh huh. well, pick what we do first. the paint, the sandwiches, or the weird wine glass cake.” 

“the wine glass cake? like from tiktok?” you ask. 

“correct. i’m really bad at…cute dates. so…i did some research.” 

sukuna refuses to look at you. because after admitting it, he’s suddenly busied himself with reading the back of the box of paints, like it’s the most riveting, intriguing thing he’s ever read in his life. 

but the pink flush that’s creeping down his neck betrays him entirely, as you reach forward and push the little box down. and sukuna’s already glaring at you. 

you place your chin on the top of his knees, reaching for one of his hands and smiling. 

“you did research for a date?” 

“you can choke on your spit.” 

you grin. 

“you really know how to turn a girl on.” 

“you’re filthy.” 

you grin. 

“and you’re actually so precious, i–” 

“don’t call me precious, y/n.” he whines, as he reaches forward to flick on your forehead. 

you smile as you sit by his side, tucking the folds of your skirt under your leg as you reach for both of the wine glasses and hand him one. 

“so how humbling was it to have satoru explain all this to you?” you ask. 

he sneers. 

“don’t even ask. he’s like the biggest nuisance i’ve ever met in my life. top ten worst moments of my life.” sukuna responds. 

“i’m flattered you humbled yourself to him for me.” 

“i actually asked suguru. they’re like…two peas in a pod, they can’t do shit without each other. the paints and stuff they gave me and the nice basket too.” 

“that’s sweet of them. remind me to send them something later to thank them.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“no need. they were more than happy to give it up for you.” 

“ah yes. i hear they’re big fans of this camping bag story. the scouts honor and the fake story we had to tell them makes a lot more sense now.” you respond. 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“okay, you know what? sue me. i was like sixteen sleeping next to a girl for the first time. god forbid i enjoyed myself. and i don’t know why they’re all so hyperfixated on that story because it was a very normal thing to assume when you’re asked that question.”  

you snort. 

“and you say you’re not a pervert…” 

sukuna leans forward, his eyes flitting down to his lips before he looks back up at you. and he can tell that you’re in a mood, that you’re trying to push his buttons by annoying him. 

“you know i despise you right?” he whispers. 

you grin, leaning in. 

“is that right?” you whisper back. 

“oh yeah. you irritate me.” 

there isn’t even a shred of earnestness in the words he’s uttering. you know he doesn’t mean them. 

“keep going.” you respond, as he presses a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. 

“you’re a nuisance.” – a kiss to your forehead. 

“an irritation.” – a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“like a fucking thorn in my side.” – and a kiss to the sweet spot right in your neck and his hand snaking up your thigh, which makes you nearly keel your head back from the sensation. 

you place your hands on his cheek and pull him back, face flushed and his eyes nearly glazed over. 

“are you crazy?” you whisper. 

“what?” he asks. 

“we’re in public, dumbass. you can’t just start trying to rile me up.” 

sukuna leans back, obliging. 

“so you admit it? i was riling you up?” 

“oh, shut up.” 

you reach for the sandwiches and unpeel one for sukuna. before he takes it, he places a tiny white box in your lap. 

you frown. first the fancy date but the jewelry too? 

“sukuna. you didn’t–” 

“just open it. i’m impatient and i’ve been waiting all day. and i actually think you’ll like it. otherwise, you’re ungrateful and rude and you hate me.” sukuna responds. 

you give him a tight lipped smile before you open the little box and actually smile. 

it’s a dainty silver chain – the exact same as sukuna’s from the chain-links, but the build is a little thinner. and right at the center, a little charm of a star. 

you reach forward for his chain, dangling around his collarbone. and surely enough, in addition to the original charm he had of an interlocked circle, there’s a star charm added right next to it. 

“you always reach for it. when you’re talking or when we’re kissing. figured i’d get you your own since you’re such a big fan.” 

“you are so…” 

“perfect? sexy? the father of your children?” 

“i was thinking adorable. can i answer d for all of the above?” you respond. 

sukuna grins. 

“survey says yes, princess.” he responds. 

you yank the chain from the little box and hand it to him, before turning around for him to secure it on you. his fingers tickle against the nape of your neck, accompanied by a warm kiss, before he taps your shoulders to signify that he’s done. 

“you know. you really are perceiving me right now.” you respond. 

“and how’s that?” 

“i know you’re obsessed with me and pay attention to every word i say.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“obviously.” 

you jab at his side. 

“i mean, i know you’re doing this because i mentioned picnics yesterday and always feeling left out. sure you could put two and two together that he never really bought me any nice gifts or anything when i said he ruined my birthday.” 

“okay, captain obvious. and?” 

you shove him once more, before leaning your head against his shoulder. 

“well, i appreciate it. i know the whole…cutesy painting date isn’t your thing. we won’t have to do it again. and that you…you’re trying to make this whole thing special for me.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“i’m offended. first and foremost, i always like to eat with you. every time i think that there’s no way you can amaze me more, you find another way to spill food on your clothes.” 

“hey! that’s not true.” 

“you already spilled on the blanket. second, this is a very violent way to eat cake. you literally mess up all the layers by doing that and destroy the piping on the cake which i can admit, i am a fan of. and third, i’m going to paint us as worms, which seems enjoyable to me.” 

you curl your nose. 

“worms?” 

“yeah. what were you going to paint?” 

“i don’t know. but it certainly wasn’t going to be worms. like the park or flowers or something.” 

“boring. i’m going to paint us as slimy worms. and because we made it on this date, you’ll have to agree to put it up in the apartment, even if it’s ugly.” 

“sukuna.” you whine. 

“especially if it’s ugly. it’s a testament to our love.” he responds, dramatically placing his hands on  his chest. 

“you know, you’re so right. worms have been a really defining feature of your relationship.” 

sukuna leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your lips and an additional one on your cheek. 

“you just get me, princess!” 

and he breaks the little joke by lifting one of your hands to his lips, and pressing a kiss on all four of your knuckles before pressing your hand to his cheek. 

“and i have to do special things for a special person.” 

you return the gesture, lifting his tattooed fingers to your lips and doing the same. 

“you know…you’re really good at this type of thing.” you murmur. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i mean, being a boyfriend. and…and being supportive about everything. sometimes i feel like i’m trying really hard to be the best but…just comes naturally to you.” you respond. 

sukuna shrugs. 

“don’t know if i’m perfect but…loving you has always come really easy to me. i don’t really have to think twice about it because these are actually just things i want to do for you.” 

you groan. 

“see! that’s what i’m saying! you always just…say sweet things, do sweet things. sometimes i’m convinced i’m not even half deserving of it, just because sometimes i don’t reciprocate that back.” you respond. 

sukuna leans forward. 

“you know, you actually do though.” 

“as if.” you groan. 

sukuna pauses, before leaning his cheek against the tops of his knees and looking out at the expanse of grass in front of you. you follow his line of vision – to the dog running in the distance, the wide, billowing trees, and the little flower truck on the side – which you now realize is where sukuna copped the flowers from earlier. 

“i mean, this type of thing. that we have, or…or the way i act around you. it means a lot to you because, you…you’ve never had this before. right?” 

“yeah.” 

“well, i haven’t had you before. i know you see me as perfect, but…but when you say that i can tell that you don’t mean it the way my mom or…or yuuji think that i’m perfect. in the untouchable way.” 

you lean forward, cupping the side of his face. 

“sukuna. you’re so touchable.” you joke. 

“you’re disgusting.” 

“you love it.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“yeah, i really do. it does actually mean the world to me that you think i’m perfect how i am and don’t think i’m larger than life.” 

“if anything, your ego could be smaller.” 

sukuna leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“and…and even the other day. i know you were acting squirrely and weird when yuuji was near us and heard us bickering, but i was half convinced that you were going to take his side at the end, when he started saying that stuff about me. because it is true and i have acted a certain way in the past…and, you would have every right to agree with him if you wanted to.” 

you frown. 

“no, i wouldn’t. you’ve never treated me like that and i know you’re being earnest when you say these things to me. this would be a very elaborate way to get into my pants if that was what you were trying to do. and i know it’s not.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s what i’m saying. every other person for me has never given me that benefit of the doubt, but you always do. you were the person who thought to tell me that my grandpa died when you all came to get me and you were the one who wasn’t mad at me. the things you do for me are the same, in equal magnitude, as what i do for you. if this makes you feel good, or…or on top of the world, you have to know that’s how you make me feel too. i’m half convinced that you’re basically made for me at this point the way you get everything right on point.” 

you lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his lips. 

“i really think you’re made for me too, ryomen.” 

sukuna groans, dramatically leaning his head back, before nearly pushing you over and peppering kisses to almost every surface on your face. 

“quit fucking saying my name. you have no idea what that does to me.” 

“i mean, i think i have an idea.” 

sukuna clamps his fingers over your mouth, before pressing a few more lingering kisses to your face and pushing off. and subsequently, picks all of the grass out of your hair as you roll your eyes. 

and after that sukuna, admittedly, very aggressively uses the wine glasses to portion off little slices of the cake and makes it a point to finish off yours when you can’t stomach the sweetness. and true to his promise – sukuna paints the two of you as worms, but at the park, stargazing. 

it’s a little silly, the way he paints it. you were expecting it to be more gory or gross, but it’s so corny that it makes you smile. because he draws the two little worms, but distinguishes between the two of you, by swiping some of your pink paint and adding a little ribbon to the one that’s supposed to be you. 

sukuna explains the stars. because before sukuna had dragged you out of that shitty bathroom bar, it’s what megumi and yuuji said in his drunken mess – he had pointed at two little stars and likened them to him and megumi.

and you’re almost positive that at the time, sukuna found it utterly ridiculous. but now, he understood it – the sentiment. that you and sukuna were two little worms, and two stars, and two little flowers too. 

and to his promise, the two of you decide to place the little canvases you drew at the end of the kitchen counter. 

it’s only then that you realize that you have to go the whole ten miles for sukuna the way he had done for you – countless times again. and that if you were going in blind in trying to make something special, you’d have to take a page out of his book and do some research. 

and there was only one person who could really help you, who you’d rather die than humble yourself to than ask for help. 

regardless of that, you still call sammy the next morning.

--

next part linked here

an: they're about to do it. anyways....there is a very real playlist to match the one that they talk about in the fic -- and it matches the way it described in the fic! so it's interleaved, the first song is a song that sukuna would have added, the second one that y/n added, the third sukuna, so on and so forth. it's linked here! happy listening babies

second an: thank you for the love on the last chapter. it makes my heart really warm bc all of that was actually based on a REAL MAN and real things that I have felt/have said to me and just having people comment that they felt seen by it or it made them feel a certain type of way actually made me really happy and so warm. this blog was one of the first things I did after I stopped being really, really sad and i'm glad that i'm able to share a little joy here and there, if that's what this fic is for you. anyways this is long and sappy and gross and actually I just love you all for enduring the ouchies and the sillies with me a little bit 💌

third an: double upload bc yall were so patient with me :D

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani79 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

#seeingivywrites! #bsfs older brother sukuna! #sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna fluff #ryomen #ryomen x you #ryomen x reader #ryomen x y/n #ryomen fluff #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n

[wheresarizona]

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

[cillivnz]

MISS A SPOT, HIT THE SPOT [lord dimitrescu]

pairing. LORD DIMITRESCU x MAID!READER (dub!con turned consensual)

initial, DIMITRESCU SONS x READER (very dubious consent)

word count. 3072

warnings. AFAB!reader, cursing, misogynistic themes, animal cruelty (using gator-skin on furniture; don’t call PETA on me, i’m sorry), groping, a little bit of exhibitionism, dub!con, fingering, reader is pinned against the wall, reader’s family has been serving the Dimitrescus, large age-gap, oral sex (both receiving), throat-fucking, tongue-fucking, clit play, pyromania, dacryphilia, extreme degradation, belittling, spitting, penetrative sex (p! in v!), squirting, multiple & forced orgasms, extreme breast/nipple play, reader’s just being used by the family, reader is called maid as well as a pet name in Romanian, unprotected sex, creampie.

listening to. ‘Enslaved’ by Diva Destruction

notes. Y/L — Your Last Name, Y/F/N — Your Father’s Name, căprița mea mică — my little doe

A regular day in an abysmal castle.

Your ancestry were sworn servants of the Dimitrescu royals, and ensuing your father’s demise after leading a devoted life to the Lord, it was your turn.

You managed to avoid his acknowledge, as well as his sons’; something you thanked your stars for. You were still at a tender age; early twenties yet unexposed to the worldly works, courtesy of your conservative father. You loved the old man, despite him giving you constant reminders that your birth doomed him— how you should’ve been a son to continue his legacy, not a fragile, worthless woman. But those words only came out of his mouth like venom when he was made to overwork or worse— punished.

And like any other day you were dusting the halls. Except it wasn’t every other day you felt your skirt lift up fervently by two strong hands who also pinned you against the wall. An heir. Another, holding you down, while one tugged at your blouse. Alas, the Dimitrescu boys had found you.

“Well, well, the silhouette comes to life.” The one pining you spoke. He had a raspy voice with some baritone to it. “Sire, please leave me be—” you beseeched, but before you could even beg, you choked on your own words as your thong was pushed to the side. “She wants to leave, yet you roam about our land dressed like a whore.” This erupted demonic laughter from all three. “You thought we ought not to catch on?” The one below spoke, his face so close to your cunt, you felt heat radiate off of him with every syllable he dragged. “Your scent lingers— hauntingly— how we’ve chased after your ghost.” “But you were always too fast, little doe.”

“Always teasing us — where were you hiding this beauty? Hm?” One teased, his stone cold lips grazing your bare shoulder. “Moreover where had you been hiding this ass of yours?”

You jolted when a harsh slap landed on your ass, your not-so-subtle moan eliciting evil laughter from the men harassing you.

The one gripping your ass began to spread it, you writhed like a worm in their vice-like embrace, begging and praying for the abuse to be over; in a way it was.

The minute you felt something stroke your folds, prodding at your entrance, a demonic thunder struck. “What do you have here, boys?” They froze, as did you. This is the most cooperation you four have shown, as if unsaid, yet understood that if you hold your breath and close your eyes, the Lord can’t hurt you.

But slowly, as if puppies caught creating chaos by their master, did the boys move away from you. Bright yellow eyes ablaze in the monotonous dark of his castle. His eyes darted from your glassy eyes staring at him, the fear in them, to your rosy cheeks, blood-red lips, and straight to your skirt; your ass was out since a Dimitrescu brother hiked it up, the same heir, on realising what his father’s hungry eyes were doting upon, made a feeble attempt to fix your skirt, but before his fingers, barely tainted with your slick wetness, could touch the fabric of your skirt, let alone fix it, his father ordered. “Don’t you dare lay hands on her, more than you have already.” The Lord spoke with utmost calmness, and that’s what terrified the four of you, you especially, the most.

Reluctantly but obediently they stepped away from you. You were still clinging to the wall, frozen in place. “Come on over,” You saw his gloved hand motion towards him, “My chambers need cleaning.” An ominously mischievous tone and provocative smirk tugged at his lips.

The walk to the Lord’s chambers was awkward and fearful. He had insisted you walked in front of him, and you could feel eyes ripping through your flesh, your predator ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

You were making feeble steps towards his chambers, almost there, when he interrupted you, “Halt,” he said, causing you to stop dead in your tracks, but you dare not look back at him. “Clean my study firstly.” He ordered, and waited by the door for you to turn around.

Once you turned, you were met by calculating amber eyes that peered down at you from a head held high. He stood by the doorframe, and on seeing you make weak, yet progressive steps towards him, his thunderous strides entered the chamber. He was seated on a leather chair by the time you entered, as if he’d been there the entire time. ‘Gator skin,’ you heard a rumour the one time you cleaned the Lord’s study before. ‘He tore it apart with his bare hands, and had it skinned into a chair as a trophy.’ You hadn’t believed the chamberlain until you’d seen it yourself.

On the left of it was an ablaze fireplace, and in front, was a library; not colossal, yet extreme in number. Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display.

“Do you fancy reading?” You almost jumped when his ravenous voice broke the eerie silence you were just growing accustomed to. “Yes, my Lord.” You seemed to pique his interest when he hummed after a short pause, surprised within yourself at the sudden confidence. It was clear, you preferred the father’s company to his sons’. Perhaps, you felt safe knowing he is the leash on his sons— the fear of your fears.

“Well, if your cleaning is satisfactory, perhaps… I’ll let you take some.” the Lord proposed, but somehow you knew this reward wasn’t for cleaning but something else he wanted to deem satisfactory.

You dare not utter another word and got to cleaning.

Dusting away, between books, underneath books; wiping away at the large mirror by the shelves. “What do they call you?” He asked with authority.

“Y/N Y/L, my Lord,” you hesitantly revealed. “Y/L!” He exclaimed, “You’re Y/F/N Y/L’s daughter,” he concluded in a wicked tone. With each wipe, he grew closer and closer and the horrid smile on his face grew wider and more sinister, forcing you to look back at him at a neck-snapping speed, only to catch him, still seated, gazing at you innocently.

“Mop the floors,” he requested, before adding “Maid.” As if asking your revelation of your identity fell on deaf ears that never demanded it. Without muttering, you dampen the mop and began cleaning.

This was just cruel.

You thought your saviour actually required your services, yet the man had you in the same position as his sons, except voluntarily, for you had to bend on all fours and stretch not to miss a spot, after all you were cleaning your master’s land, at his request. ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,’ you sighed, only daring to think of it.

You heard fervent movement behind you, and the next thing you feel is your thong being pulled down till your ankles. It happened all too fast, you barely registered anything until his large hands spread you open to him. “They were right about you,” He spoke, intrigued, “Such exemplary beauty, căprița mea mică. Utterly pristine.”

Noticing your haltered movements, he quirked a brow. “Did I permit you to stop?” You choked a gasp, feeling his left hand trace your curves, making its way to squeeze your throat, while his right hand fiddled with your glistening folds. “No sir,” you breathed a sigh at the pleasure he was making you feel. “Fucking continue then.” He ordered and you did.

Maybe not a regular day in an abysmal castle. Your 9’6 Lord and Master, the fearsome and notorious, the head of the dreaded Dimitrescu family, Lord Dimitrescu himself, kneeling behind you while you wipe his floors, fingers stroking your lips, not yet penetrating, just— “Oh!” You moaned when a long, thick, wet something slithered about your pussy. Prodding at the places his very fingers grazed, now wiggling inside you.

You began panting, about to look back and begin your pleads when a strong hand grabbed your skull and forced it in place.

You were terrified; just a bit more coaxing and he could crack open your skull. You were less than half his size and half his age. What was more frightening to you was that it was just the tip of his tongue inside you. Your eyes rolled back and damn-near saw your brain as he began pushing more of it in.

Still, obediently, you wiped.

This pleased the Lord as he wrapped an arm over your waist to your legs and brought his thumb to your clit. The circular motions of figure-eights on your clit were frantic, causing an excruciating jolt of pleasure to run down your lower half, his anomaly of a tongue amplifying the feel.

You bit you lip, nearly drawing blood as the knot in your core grew unbearable. Feeling you clench around his tongue, Lord Dimitrescu replaced the oral attack with two of his fingers, stretching you so bittersweetly. The assault on your cunt was aching. He’d graze your g-spot oh-so-softly, slowly driving you to the edge yet deliberately prolonging the high tide. “You are making a mess, căprița mea mică,” he sighed, eyeing the slick dripping down your thighs, drenching you in all, and the wooden floor beneath you. “Allow me to help.” It was more imperative than offering, so it was but natural you grimaced in pain when he pulled out his fingers, moments before you were coming undone, only to spread your aching hole and spit into it.

You moaned; shamelessly, you let out a filthy, degraded moan, and the sound travelled straight to the Lord’s cock. “There, there,” he rubbed his spit on your folds, your swollen clit bathed in it, “All better — nice and clean.” He chuckled, causing goosebumps to arise on your spine and your breath to get caught in your throat when he shoved not two but three fingers smoothly into your weeping cunt.

You clenched at the sudden attack, bewildered at how easily you were being made to cum for your master yet again. He rose from his position to whisper in your ear, “Hits the spot, doesn’t it?” At that moment, he had you unravelling with a curl on his fingers inside you.

You screaming a string of curses, the Lord greatly amused by your sailor’s tongue.

He stood up, without a word or move. “Clean the mess you made.” He gestured down at your juices that he flowed out of your cunt. “And while you’re down there…” He unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock that sprang free, a demonic thing, it was; certainly, not pleasurable to accommodate inside, unless…

“Don’t be afraid, maid.” His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring.

“It can’t hurt you, unless I want it to.” His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you. You wavered off the uneasiness, still eager to please your master. Grabbing his colossal cock, you began to work out the large vein on the underside of it. He hissed when you applied pressure, using both your hands in an attempt to hold it; in vain it went. You licked the tip, before slowly taking it in your mouth.

“That’s it. Show me you’re an all-rounder, maid; not just for wiping floors, show me that’s not all you can do bent over.” He chuckled, something so sinister about how his own vulgarity was so amusing to him. However, you weren’t opposed to it. After all, orders were orders; that’s one thing your father did teach you, if ordered directly, orders are orders, even if they’re fatal.

You gagged on less-than half the length, but your quick save by jacking off the inches unabsorbed by your mouth was much appreciated by the man above you. His large palm resting atop your head, slowly caressing your messed up hair into place. The gesture nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

“You take it like it was made for you.” He cooed. You couldn’t help but put your guard down, making it unknowingly advantageous to the Lord who grabbed the same head he was caressing, as support to fuck your throat. He only chuckled at the stream of years flowing through your glassy eyes. Your flushed face tainted with tears was now red with lack of oxygen. His cock was slamming past your uvula; the bell tolls, as if he were morally obligated to.

“So young, yet you suck cock like you’ve been a whore all your life.” He chuckled to himself, before thrusting in deeply, and cumming inside your mouth. You swallowed his ichor without being told, when you stuck out your tongue to show him, he groaned, face contorted in some form of arousal, as he lifted your frame to his, kissing you with neediness. His lips were surprisingly tender, beard teasing your face while his tongue, one that swept your insides clean, forced entry into your mouth, which you hesitantly permitted.

“Dust by the fireplace, better get to it.” He said, pulling away from you. You grabbed the supplies and moved towards the said place. You hadn’t noticed when the flames became blazing, a conflagration, either way, you dipped the mop in the bucket beside you, and began wiping.

You couldn’t get much done, however, for from underneath your skirt, you felt something big prod your entrance. Rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, Lord Dimitrescu positioned himself behind you, before shoving the whole of it in. You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure. “My…-my Lord!” You moaned, trying to form an actual sentence, “This is highly inap…-inappropriate!” You managed to muster. “Really now?” He questioned, you don’t know if it was a scoff or a laugh following his amused tone. “Who,” he paused, pushing you forward. You were now a stone’s throw away from the fire, every thrust into you pulled you back, which, despite the burn of the stretch, made you grateful for you were pulled back from the fireplace. “Do you think,” he continued, thrusting into you harder each time; the heat of the fire threatening to melt you whole, grazing your face, delicately. “You are.” He finished, slamming into you so hard, you began to cum, but before you could unravel before him, he pulled out, causing your pussy to spasm around the eerie nothingness of the room.

You were reduced to a whining mess, no words coming out of your abused mouth. “What’s the matter, maid? You want to cum?” he questioned, gripping your curvy hips. “Even when you’ve missed a spot?” One of his arms snaked on your waist, the other roamed about your spine, laying you down, before pulling your head up by your hair.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” he groaned, cock pressing against your slit, it’s new home, yet not in. He grabbed the bucket of freshwater besides you, pouring it all on the floor. “Let’s get that spot, shall we?” He said, before doing something so degrading, you felt disgusted in your own skin for enjoying.

Your hot body was used to wipe the floors of Lord Dimitrescu’s study. Ripping your blouse into shreds, he groped your breasts that had sprang free, before positioning your chest on the wet floor, and swaying you left to right.

This man, your ancestry’s master, was balls deep inside your abused pussy, fucking away the life in you, while using your tits as a mop. You moaned as your burning skin made contact with the icy puddle. “That’s how you wipe, căprița mea mică, so much better.” He grunted, the pace, the size, the girth, the sheer brutality of his sex was like a punch to the gut, nonetheless your poor cunt made feeble attempts to get accustomed to the ongoing torture. Your cunt clenched around his cock while your breasts swayed from side to side, the carpet had soupçons of water, courtesy of the fervency with which you “wiped”, which it soaked up instantly.

“My Lord, I’m going to- oh!” You yelped when he pulled out, shoving his fingers inside you and curling them. You hadn’t anticipated this, body reacting on sheer adrenaline junk that’s been coaxed out of you since the incident with this man’s sons in the halls of his castle.

Then, as fate would have it, mocking your misery, you squirted all over the floor. The juices gushing out your cunt, drowning the man that coaxed them out. He giggled, like a fucking teenager, while you fought for consciousness. Sure, you’d had sex before, he was a chef in this very place who mysteriously disappeared, but a man Lord Dimitrescu’s size? You had never held your head high around the family, avoiding their gaze like a thief, and now he’s fucking you like a stinging reminder of why you should’ve stayed in the shadows— remained a silhouette.

You were sore from the previous two orgasms, yet the man made it look easy to coax your third. The hostility your cunt displaying, clenching around the wanted, yet unmanageable penetration, was enough to unravel Lord Dimitrescu, you following with pornographic screams.

His grip on your hip and scalp was tormenting, but it soon loosened when he pumped into you one last time, pussy milked dry, filled with his overflowing load. He exhaled sharply, pulling up your panties, tapping your ass lightly. “You have been amazing — definitely considering promoting you.” He seemed very proud of his joke. Leaning down to catch your ear where you’d nearly passed out on the ground, he whispered in your ear. “Now, clean up.”

He left a moment after, stopping at the doorway to catch a glimpse of your sexy, worn out body. “My room’s next.” He said, leaving you alone with a shit load of mess to clean.

Your mess.

main masterlist. more from “resident evil: village”.

#lord dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu genderbent #lady dimitrescu #genderbent #lord dimitrescu smut #lord dimitrescu x reader #lord dimitrescu x reader smut #size difference #resident evil #resident evil village #dimitrescu #monster smut #vampire smut #lord dimitrescu sons #dimitrescu family #resident evil dimitrescu #maid dress #slutty maid

[won4ver]

short almost drabble like fic where jake dated you because of a bet (you find out). bet fics are my guilty pleasure.

but i’m thinking it’s more of just your reaction? like it shows the emotions you go through after finding out

if you decide to write it, thank you🤭

✈︎ the perfect picture

pairing : bf!jake x fem!reader

warnings + genre : angst. crying.

wc : 1.1k

a/n : I LOVE BET FICS SM BCUZ THEY HURT SO GOOD OMFG + plsss lmk how i did!

Jake’s love painted the perfect picture, the canvas splaying out in a precise manner. The midnight giggles and morning delicacies were nothing more than a distraction, a part Jake played a little too well.

You were blindsided by everything else around you, unable to escape your 2d world. The walls of your heart were crafted by the lies that Jake had sewn into your skin since early on, the needle beginning its stitch the second his eyes met yours.

The gallons of paint were now splattered across the sky, Jake's canvas cracking as the black seeped in through the sections where he forgot to blend.

The audio recording sounded out across your stale room, all air stuck in your lungs as you held your breath, heartbeat behind your eyes as the tears welled.

“LN YN? It’s like you're asking for me to lose before I even begin.” The voice so clearly belonged to your boyfriend, his recognizable shocked tone sounding extra sharp.

“So you’re giving up? It’s not my fault they’ve never noticed you before.” Park Sunghoon, the man who always supported that boyish smile, and your boyfriend's best friend.

“I think they’re a good choice, allows more room for fun” Park Jongseong, the captain of the rugby team, again, your boyfriend's best friend.

“What do I get if I win?”

“Easy. You get this” Even if you couldn’t physically see this scene, you knew very well what Park Sunghoon was shaking in his hands. The bills slapping together as he shook them.

“Deal, prepare to hand it over.” The sound of their hands meeting was your tipping point, vision blurring as the tears fell.

The constricted air in your lungs shot out with your first exhale, chest burning as the weight of your boyfriend's betrayal lay heavy.

The next minutes were a blur of tears and blinding lights, your packed bags landing beside your feet as you hurriedly pulled on your shoes. Your phone buzzing to life in your pocket, messages coming in back to back.

You tried ignoring it, the thought of seeing your boyfriend's contact on your screen creating an overwhelming nauseous feeling.

It wasn’t until you heard a specific ringtone that you decided to fish your phone from your pocket, the loud voice of Sunghoon ringing too loudly across Jake’s apartment.

After hanging out with Jake’s friends a few times you managed to get extremely close to them, Sunghoon in specific. It was easy to get along with him, easy to drown within his sweet aura.

After class one day you accidentally stumbled into him, his attempts to hide his swollen eye coming up unsuccessful. You remembered that day, the day you found out about his fights.

It was as if that evening opened a door to your relationship, Sunghoon attaching himself to your hip.

One day all the boys decided to prank you, changing your ringtones to ones personalized by them. Sunghoon’s voice through his own ringtone has never felt so daunting, you’ve never hated him more.

Your eyes lazily read across his newest message, ignoring the other twenty-seven he’d sent within the last two minutes.

hoon

I’m so sorry, I promise we called off the bet after meeting you please don’t do anything you’ll regret. Jake’s on his way back, please hear him out

Without another thought you pressed his notification, the delivered alert changing to seen straight away. It seemed that Sunghoon was already typing again, bubbles popping up right away.

You ignored him once again, leaving his chat to open Jake’s. There was only one message from him, one sent by him hours ago, right after he left to Jay’s house.

“Never talk to me again” you whispered as your fingers pressed each letter, shakily pressing each letter before pressing send. As soon as the message went through you tossed your phone onto the table beside Jake’s door.

Of course, in hindsight, it was foolish to get rid of your phone, but there’s no way you could continue using it knowing all the memories stored in it.

What you didn’t know, was that when you threw it you somehow opened your emails, the email that contained the audio recording.

And so you left, leaving nothing but your phone. You ignored the looks in the lobby, your favourite neighbours giving you worried looks as they saw your state.

You got into the car, carelessly throwing your bags into the backseat. You reversed out of the spot, leaving Jake without another thought.

Jake could feel the dread in his chest as he entered the lobby, the same neighbours that saw you leave in a haste not yet seeing him and they whispered amongst themselves.

“Is yn alright? She just left in a hurry, she was crying pretty bad” Jake didn’t register their words until he reached his apartment, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

He had figured he’d get up faster if he ran up the stairs, the elevator always took ages to get down to the lobby.

He slammed open his door, tears falling once again as he noticed that all your belongings were gone. The only sound in his apartment was his own breathing, well that’s what he thought until he saw your discarded phone.

He walked towards it, jelly knees barely holding him up as he bent down to grab your phone. He felt acid rise up his throat, eyes widening as he heard the audio coming from your phone.

He knew you had found out the moment Sunghoon looked up at Jake with glassy eyes, shaking his head as he tried to get the words out. He didn’t waste a second before running out, ignoring his friends calling for him as the apartment door slammed behind him.

He was too late, he missed you by mere seconds. He didn’t have the chance to talk to you, to explain himself. This wasn’t how he wanted you to find out, he was planning countless ways that he would tell you.

That bet was Jake Sim’s biggest regret, but it wasn’t a mistake. Even if he was given the chance to go back and stop himself from accepting the bet, he would never do it. The time he spent with you was his favourite, you became his favourite person.

He didn’t know where he would go from here, but all he knew was that he needed to get to your apartment as soon as possible. And so he ran back down all flights of stairs, racing to his car as he sped towards you.

He didn’t know if you’d ever forgive him, but he needed to try. He loved you more than anything, even if it wasn’t genuine at first.

Jake Sim loved you, but after today you didn’t know if you believed that. If he loved you he wouldn’t have done this to you.

#won4ver ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #won4ver ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི requests! #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen ff #enhypen angst #enhypen jake angst #sim jake angst #jake angst #sim jaeyun angst #sim jaeyun #enhypen jake #enhypen jake sim angst #jake sim #jake sim angst #jake sim x y/n #jake sim scenarios #jake sim x you #enhypen jake sim #jake sim x reader #enha jake #enha angst #jake sim oneshots #kpop one shots #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #jake scenarios #sim jaeyun scenarios #sim jake scenarios #jake sim angst scenarios

[shawtuzi]

Can you do something where plug!eren is fresh out of jail and is absolutely feral for his gf cause he hasn’t seen her in so long. Love u and ur writing :).

oh my god yes i most definitely can!!!! and thank u sm i love u more *kiss kiss*

this is 18+////cw include: black coded reader, unprotected sex, creampie, some mushy stuff at the end i couldn’t resist///wc: 1.5k+

let’s say eren did get busted and this is no beuno at all because everybody know most states be tripping over a simple weed charge. and unfortunately for this simple weed charge eren got sentenced three. fucking. years. to say it broke you was an understatement and what broke you even more is that eren didn’t expect you to wait on him. but you did of course because that is your man, your life, your cinnamon apple and he is worth waiting for.

eren stayed on his best behavior hoping to get out early for any reason they’d let him if he was the “model prisoner” and it paid off. eight months later a guard came up to eren and told him to get his affairs in order because he’d be leaving the next day. when eren told you the good news you couldn’t help but bust into tears. it was an extremely lonely eight months without him, yes your friends were around and kept you company but after spending months practically joined at the hip with eren it was very hard to adjust without him around :((

you showed up at the prison at exactly twelve sharp like eren instructed and five minutes later you finally saw him in all his glory. “eren!” you squealed running into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. “hi baby,” eren sighed dreamily nuzzling his face into your hair, the familiar smell of your coconut scented shampoo nearly bringing him to tears. “‘missed you so fuckin’ much jesus christ i’ll never leave you like that again i promise y/n,” he muttered squeezing your smaller form closer into his body. you couldn’t even speak afraid your voice will crack due to the happy tears streaming down your face. “missed you too eren it was so lonely without you,” you whimpered burying your face in his chest.

the two of you stayed like that for a good ten minutes, just embracing each other and whispering sweet nothings to calm the other down until you finally pulled away taking in eren’s figure. he’d gotten extremely fit, the white t-shirt he’d worn going in prison now nearly bursting at the seams from how swole his biceps had gotten. “you look good,” you trailed your finger down his arm making him give you his award winning smirk.

“yeah? how good?”

those three words were how you both ended up on the side of the rode, eren dragging you to the backseat so he could finally have his way with you after eight grueling months. “e-eren it’s only about twenty minutes till we’re…home,” your voice trailed off towards the end once you felt his lips on your neck. eren shook his head now yanking down your tank top to expose your breasts, “fuck no i waited eight months for this i’m not waiting a second longer, now lift up a sec so i can take these off” he rasped tugging at the waistband of your shorts. you immediately lifted your hips up bringing a loving smile to eren’s face, “still such a good listener huh? trained you real well didn’t i” he chuckled before pressing sloppy kisses all over your tits while also yanking your shorts off.

“yeah just for you eren all for you,” you whined tangling your fingers in his hair which was now slightly longer. “m’skipping the foreplay jus’ wanna fuck you right now,” he yanked down his sweats letting his dick spring free of its confinements. he was a lot bigger than you remembered. eren pressed a soft kiss to your cheek after seeing the slight fear in your eyes, “it’s okay i’ll be right here to take care of you when we’re done and if it really hurts too much just lemme know okay?” the softness in his tone had you feeling more relaxed already especially after hearing ‘i’ll be right here to take care of you.”

you were so lost in thought that he actually here in front of you you forgot to give him the ‘okay’ to continue. “y/n? you okay baby? do you want to stop?” eren was about to lift you off his lap but you quickly snapped back to reality (oh there goes gravity) shaking your head that you in fact didn’t want to stop. “no! no it’s okay i’m fine i’m just really happy to see you is all,” you smiled giving his lips one, two, three kisses before pulling your panties to the side, “now please fuck me….been waiting eight months for you rennie.” eren mumbled a quick “goddamn y/n” before rubbing his tip between your slicked folds before slowly pushing it in the both of you gasping in unison.

“s-shit okay i’m gonna go slow- fuck i don’t wanna cum too fast,” eren shuddered at the feeling of how warm you are, internally cursing at himself for already being at the brink of cumming. you brought your hands to his cheeks rubbing slow circles on them with your thumbs, “s’okay babe we have all the time in the world now, well kinda what we’re doing is pretty illegal and we should hur- oh shit!” you cried feeling all of eren’s dick enter you at once.

eren dug his fingers into your hips so hard you felt the bruises already forming but you didn’t care—what’s a couple bruises when you have the love of your life back in your arms? “goddamn y/n have you always been so tight?” eren grunted now moving you up and down at a steady pace, “and i don’t give a fuck about none of that that’s what we got tinted windows for,” you wanted to roll your eyes at his words knowing if it wasn’t so deserted where you were now you would’ve made him wait patiently. but it was so you could quite honestly care less about anything besides the man in front of you.

“eren,” you whimpered wrapping your arms around his neck. “i know baby i know i’m here just lemme make you feel good—that’s it there you go take this fucking dick,” he grunted taking one of your nipples into his mouth. eren began to grow impatient taking it upon himself to begin bucking his hips up, the tip of his dick now kissing your cervix in the most delicious way possible. your moans were like music to eren’s ears, each sharp gasp and little whimper you let out only fueling him to go harder and faster. “fuck fuck fuck i’m cumming s-shit,” eren growled slamming you down one last time before spurts of his warm cum began to fill your needy pussy.

you had never felt more comfortable and happy than you were now fucked out and stuffed with eren’s cum, “‘feels good…missed the way your cum feels in me ren” you sighed dreamily burying your face in his neck. “mhm ‘n i missed the way your pussy squeezes me so good, now i want us to cum together this time—think you can do that for me ma?” he ran his fingers gently up and down your back making shivers creep down your spine. you nodded quickly beginning to grind you hips slowly in his lap, the mixture of your wetness and his cum slowly trailing it’s way down his thighs and into the car seat.

“feel so damn good-shit i promise i’ll never leave you like that again y/n i swear. fuck i’ll stop dealing, get a job at the auto body shop connie told me about, get us a bigger ‘n better house and we can start a family yeah? give you a couple of my babies?” eren was completely fucked out babbling whatever came to his mind and he meant every single word. he didn’t care that he wouldn’t be making as much money all that mattered was you and you only. he didn’t care that he was only 23 talking about starting a family because he knew one day he would make you a mother to as many kids as you wanted.

a dopey smile made its way onto your face but you didn’t have time to savor the sweet moment your brain turning to mush when you felt eren’s thumb on your clit. “f-fuck eren yes that’s all i want with you please don’t stop!” eren didn’t plan on stopping either. he planted his feet more firmly before fucking into you with everything he had, “so fuckin’ wet” he muttered to himself, his head lolling back in pleasure. a few more harsh thrusts and soon you and eren were cumming at the same time, eren letting out the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard. “shit—c’mere lemme hold you for a minute….missed being together like this,” eren wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close.

you rested your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart making it hard for you to keep your eyes open. “did you really mean what you said earlier, you know about getting a job at the shop and a new house and the other stuff?” your voice was strained and whisper like but eren caught every word. “and by other stuff you mean starting a family? yeah i did, i meant every damn word too,” eren chuckled pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you cool with being the mother to my devil spawn?” he giggled giving your ass a playful slap.

“i’d be more than happy to eren <333”

#want him <\3 need him </3 #eren <3 #plug!eren #my writing #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan imagine #aot imagines #snk eren

[foldingfittedsheets]

Since I already have established myself as a little pickle freak with no shame I have another extremely embarrassing story that will probably make you laugh.

When I started dating Connor he was still living at home, but after we'd been dating a while he and his best friend Charlie decided to move in together. Another friend of theirs was looking for roommates and they decided to go for it. It was the lower level of a house.

Here's where I need to set the stage a little. Looking back on the time I spent in that space, I don't actually even know if it could have been nice under other circumstances. I feel almost pity for that house, full of young disgusting boys. Bare and wretched, it had minimal threadbare furniture, no decorations, and the guy who lived there already was hands down the most disgusting person I've ever met.

Not his character, but his habits. This boy's name was Josh. I genuinely don't know if their moving in with Josh was a handshake deal or if they saw the place beforehand. No sane person would ever have chosen to live there otherwise, I feel certain.

There was a kitchen. Sorta. But like. Was there a kitchen? Every counter, the whole sink, everything was just covered in dirty dishes. Connor and Charlie said, "Josh, you need to do the dishes, we can't even wash anything cause it's so full of dirty dishes."

Josh's response to being asked to clean was to load all the dirty dishes onto a blanket. And then he dragged that blanket down the hall into the laundry room.

Crusted on residue, molding slimes, and horrible odors arose as he moved the blanket. After two months they said, "Josh, you can't just leave your dirty dishes on a blanket in the laundry room."

Josh's response was to drag the blanket of misery and miasmas into his room instead.

Josh didn't shower very much and he was a big guy. At one point I walked past his door when it opened. His girlfriend was crossing to the bathroom and I almost dry heaved directly in front of her. The smell of rotting foot, dried on sweat, and sex musk swirled together into the most eye watering assault my nose had ever faced.

So that's where our story takes place. A home of no hand towels, no soap by the bathroom sink, a blanket covered in months of early-twenties depression dishes.

I was meeting some of these people for the first time on the night of our story. Josh had a crew of two others guys who just hung around constantly. So it's me and five dudes hanging out, chatting, ignoring the various smell scapes to live in the moment. Josh left briefly to go pee.

Then I felt a stabbing in my guts. I shot a panicked look to Connor and casually said I had to pee too. At that time in my life I was experiencing some of the most god awful IBS I've ever experienced. I knew I was going to make a crime scene in there. To my dismay there was no fan to turn on. But Connor, like the champion partner he was, started telling a story at extremely high volume to cover the sound of my anus exploding under the force of my anxiety poops.

When I flushed and turned to the sink, I was dismayed. There was no soap. I looked around the bare bathroom and didn't see anything useful. No one had ever wanted to wash their hands here before. I then looked over the tub and spotted a tiny window that I wasn't tall enough to open. I wanted to let out the truly rank and terrible smell I had filled the bathroom with, but I had to give that up as impossible.

I slipped out and quietly said, "Hey, is there dish soap or something to wash my hands?"

"Oh," said one of Josh's friends, "There's a bar of soap by the window, let me grab it for you." This was not unreasonable, because again, I couldn't reach the window but I was doused in fear at the ridicule I was about to face.

He went to the door of the bathroom and literally staggered back from the unholy smell I'd left there. He had his arms up as if to protect his face from the malevolent beast my bowels had left behind. When he turned to us there was tears standing in his eyes.

In this house of awful smells and terrible hygiene, I was the stinkiest monster of all, bringing this boy to tears. I broke out in a sweat, ready to cry myself at the shame that was about to be cast upon me.

But instead. He said, "JOSH!"

"I can't believe you dude! Oh my god! That is the nastiest shit I've ever smelled!!" He waved the door frantically to dilute the awful power of my shit and then plowed through to open the window and air out the bathroom, passing me the soap. "I can't BELIEVE you had to go in there after him, oh my god, use the kitchen sink to wash your hands! It's gnarly!"

Everyone turned to rag on Josh for the newest addition to the gallery of smells in the house and he didn't look at me once. He laughed and pulled my shame onto his shoulders with grace, taking the bullet for me like a true hero. Only Connor and I knew I was the stinky villain.

Josh never brought it up after, but I remain grateful to this day.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #funny story #writing #story

[55sturn]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SNAP OUT OF IT: CHAPTER 0.01

↳ series masterlist! ↳ main masterlist!

↳ summary: in which y/n receives the news of her life and she feels on top of the world, as if nothing could bring her down, until she meets her dorm mate, rather, until she re-meets him.

↳ pairings: matt sturniolo x fem!reader [eventually, in this chapter, they are not friends]

↳ warnings: swearing, mentions of death, cigarettes, drug usage [weed], alcohol consumption, cocky!matt, flirting, bitchy!reader.

↳ important notes: i’ve been so excited to post this! this is going to be slow burn, and updates will be slow as well while i’m in the process of deciding what i want done with back to december, povs will change regularly between reader’s pov, matt’s pov, and third person pov, each pov is vital to the story and each character’s internal battles throughout the series.

↳ playlist for this series! song below for this chapter below!

READER’S POV

my hands shook as i held the letter that determined whether or not i’d have a chance at landing a job in screenwriting or directing, or literally anything the film industry would give me. landing a spot in this course, was extremely tough. it was only open to twenty five students, and there were thousands of applicants to rifle through each semester. it was a prestigious course, and if you excelled in it, the professor would consider sending out a letter of recommendation to any companies he knew were offering an internship. it was such high demand because the professor had a lot of sway when it came to massive filming and production companies, and would often land one of his students their big break.

but in order to apply, at least three years of training under some sort of local theatre was mandatory, the applicants needed to prove that they understood how screenwriting, production, and set or stage management worked, and there was still more that we needed to cover but those were top three areas of experience this course looked at. each applicant needed to prove that they were completely fit for this course and that they genuinely wanted to pursue a career in this field, and if you didn’t show it well enough, you weren’t even added to the consideration list.

it was a tough spot to land, and i would give anything to land a spot in this course. i had fought tooth and nail throughout all of high school to get grades that proved determination and hard work, the only university i ever had in mind was harvard, and if i didn’t get in, i wouldn’t know what to do with my life.

so here i was, freshly twenty-one, and finally holding the letter that led to the rest of my life, good or bad.

“come on you pussy, open it already.” jocelyn groans, she had been my rock throughout the entire application process. she’s been my best friend since we were six and bonded over having the same pencil case when she moved to boston in first grade. however, she’s been a bit callous to the idea of me being nervous about reading this letter. she was the type that barely scraped in high school, and she had decided pretty early that she didn’t want to go to any college or university. she excelled online and had amounted a huge following.

“joce, i love you but please shut up. this is the most important letter i’ve held in my entire life. i’m scared, what if i don’t get in?”

“please bitch, you’ve worked harder than anyone i know, i’m sure you’re going to get in.”

“thanks joce, but i genuinely don’t trust your judgement after the last guy you hooked up with. so i am going to take a shot and then open it.” i laugh, walking over to the cupboard above the fridge, grabbing the bottle of tequila we had bought in preparation for this very moment. i also grabbed two shot glasses from the mini bar-cart we had beside the fridge of our shared apartment, and began pouring a shot for the both of us.

“oh my fucking god. oh my fucking god!” she gasps from behind me, making quickly turn around, only to see that she held the open letter in her hands.

“what?”

“you fucking got in!” she exclaims, causing goosebumps to rise along my skin as i stand and watch her eyes dart back and forth along the page, reading the words aloud.

“dear miss l/n, i am pleased to inform you that the committee on Film and Visual Studies has voted to offer you a place in the Harvard class of 2025. dude you did it!” she beams, her voice full of pride and excitement, causing tears to well along my waterline as i stare at her.

“oh my fucking god, i did it.” i sob, feeling genuinely accomplished for the first time in my life.

“however it does say that the only available dorm situation is co-ed, since you had applied for on-campus living.”

“that’s fine with me honestly.” i shrug, wiping the tears, unable to rid my face of the smile that resides on it.

“alright, let’s take some shots and then start packing the rest of your shit. i can’t believe i’ll be living without for so long, i can finally walk around naked.” she hums, wrapping her arms around my shoulders as i sigh, my arms winding tightly around her waist.

i let out a loud laugh as i grab the bottle of tequila, followed by the two full shot glasses, sliding jocelyn hers as i stare at her.

“you’re acting as if you don’t already do that.”

“touché, however, here’s to my bitch starting her dream career.”

the next few days blew by in a blur as jocelyn and i finished packing everything i wanted to take. she was going to help take my stuff from boston to cambridge. the eight hour drive was going to be brutal, but it was completely doable, especially know that she’d be along the way. instead of driving sixteen hours total, she was going to spend the first night with me, she also wanted to scope out my dorm mate to make sure they’re not a total freak.

“i can’t believe i leave tomorrow.” i sigh, resting my head on jocelyn’s shoulder, the two of sitting on our balcony while she puffed her joint. jocelyn stifles a laugh before straightening out her expression, and turning to me.

“your mom would be so proud of you.” she says, her face blank as the absurd comment leaves her mouth.

“as fucking if.” i snort, rolling my eyes, taking the joint from her fingers, taking a small hit as she laughs.

“she’d probably ask why it took so long to get a response and then tell you that you didn’t try hard enough and that your acceptance letter was a pity letter.”

“probably.” i whisper, handing the joint back to her as i watch the setting sun, feeling a strong tinge of hurt swelling in my chest at the mention of my mom.

her and i never really had a steady relationship, when i was younger she was never really around, she was a big part of the film industry, quite the requested screenwriter, and was always in high demand which meant she didn’t take time to nurture me.

when she was alive and around more during my high school days after she was forced to retire from the spotlight due to her cancer, she was constantly berating me, the high ninety grades and constant participation in local theatre was never good enough. she always said i wasn’t shooting high enough. but she fell deathly ill my senior year, and that was a rough patch for us. i had snapped and told her that i hope she regrets the way she’s treated my entire life, and that i won’t be found at her deathbed. but when that time came, i was the first one to hold her hand and tell her i love her, but the reply never came from her, she just stared at the wall blankly until her boyfriend showed up and then suddenly she was lively as she could be while dying.

but i’ve moved on from that year, and it took a long time and shit ton of therapy to realize that i was never going to be the daughter she wanted, but my dad and my step-mother, melissa, have been as supportive as they could. they’ve been with melissa’s mom in maine for the last two months, helping her with everything after her husband’s passing.

i sigh again as i look at jocelyn, leaning my head back on her shoulder.

“we should probably head back to bed, we’ve got a long ass drive tomorrow.”

“yeah, wanna eat some ice cream first?”

“sure.”

after our ice cream, we finally crashed, both of us only getting about four hours of sleep after having to wake up at nearly six in the morning. we quickly got dressed, and grabbing the last few bags and boxes that needed to be packed into the car before leaving to grab food and drinks. after that, we finally started on our way to cambridge.

the drive was full of numerous stops, causing to get at the dorms around four in the afternoon.

“alright you stay with the cars while i go to the admissions centre and grab my key and i’ll go unlock the door and then we can start.” i hum in joce’s direction through her open window, grabbing my bag off the front passenger’s seat while jocelyn nods, climbing out, and stretching.

“i hope you get a hot roommate, you need a boyfriend.” she calls out, rolling my eyes, and flipping her off.

“i’m walking away i cant hear you!” i call back, following the signs that direct me toward to admissions office, as i enter i nervously approach the lady at the front.

“hi i’m here to pick up my dorm keys, room 496, y/n l/n.”

“here you go! so you’ll want to turn right, then take two lefts and follow the numbered plaques on the wall to the co-ed section of the dorms! and lastly, welcome to harvard!” the older woman chirps, flashing a warm smile that eases my nerves just the tiniest bit as i begin following the directions that she had called out.

as i reach my door, i fish the key from my pocket, quickly shoving it into the keyhole, wanting to get into my dorm as quick as possible. as i’m about to turn the knob, someone clear their throat from behind me, causing me to turn around. and once i meet the eyes of the person standing behind me, i immediately wish that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“this is my dorm?” he coughs, making my skin crawl at the idea of sharing a dorm for a year with the one person that i genuinely wish didn’t exist in my life.

“there’s no way in hell i’m sharing a dorm with you, matt.”

↳ taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @florcult @33sturniolo @greatooglymooglyyy @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @soursturniolo @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @hesvoid3434 @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur @melanch0lybby @whatrulookingat11

© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

#spotify #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #dark academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #indie aesthetic #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #academic rivals to lovers

[ghosts-cyphera]

i just wanted to say you are a complete and utter creative genius.. THANK YOU FOR FEEDING US!! — you might be tired of ps!ghost by now but i just wanted to ask/share a little..how do you think ps!ghost got into his field of work? my brain is saying it probably started in amateur college videos where his roommates started it but he ended up joining in, they put the video up online for shits and giggles, ghost is unexpectedly popular..

eeek, thank you so much, love!! you know what, I wish I was tired of ps!ghost—my life would be much easier if he didn't possess my every waking thought, lol. alas!

to answer your question: that is how.

that is exactly how.

what comes to simon's college friends, they were definitely posting videos of them having sex with their one night stands—all consensual, yet still just slightly morally questionable—but simon only went solo.

his first video was really not a great one: just the shitty back camera of his phone filming his cock has he touched himself, and while he was beautiful, it was not his cock that got the attention of the viewers that happened to stumble upon his video.

it was the dirty-talk.

it was the groans and the curses: the accent and the low chuckles, as he fucked his hand until he was coming all over the dark blue sheets of his dorm room. it was the way he spoke to whichever lucky human it was that he was thinking of in that moment.

the praises and the promises.

and while the few comments his roommates had received on their videos were all complimenting the girls, what came to the handful of comments that simon received, they were all talking about his voice and his dirty-talk.

and holy hot damn, did that give the cocky bastard a confidence boost. while he had never been the quiet type with his hookups, he was now actively paying attention to the way he was speaking to them. studying the way in which their eyes rolled back as he complimented them, and noticing the way that they downright began to glow as he praised them.

and so, he kept learning and he kept posting. after a while, he invested in a better camera. one that he would prop up on a pile of school books as he filmed himself—first with his face cropped off the frame, and after a while with a mask covering the lower half of his features.

the skeleton, people called him.

ghost, he corrected them.

the more he posted, the more popular his videos got. he began to gather a community of regulars, nearly obsessive over the man only in his early twenties.

and that's when kate laswell reached out to him. the agent had seen his videos, and noticed the way that he was being eaten up by his fans. the potential of ghost was unmistakable, and she knew that the studio she represented could offer him something safer and more secure: something that he could actually make a pretty penny out of.

ghost—surprisingly humble under all the cockiness and the confidence—thought that the whole thing was a joke, until kate offered to fly him first class to L.A. to meet up with the studio.

his friends, of course, lost their shit and downright threatened him to dive into it or else. and for one very unspecified reason ghost is extremely happy that he did.

#eeek thank you for sending this in!! replying to it made me the happiest mwahmwah #sending you all the love <3 #had to link my girl kate on the post because I won’t have the non-gamers not know who kate is <3 queer icon #pornstar!ghost #a:ps!ghost #lo answers

[phoenixyfriend]

Totally the Real Jango

Have another time-travel concept:

Clones go back in time. Run into some Mandos, most probably the Haat'ade. Subsequently LIE THEIR ASSES OFF. Specifically:

Sheer, bald-faced lying that they are are Jango himself from the future, relying on the pronounced age but identical DNA to sell it.

Any questions of fact that they get wrong regarding current and recent status with the Fetts or with Jaster get explained away with 'it was decades ago,' because they look like they're fifty, and this Jango is Twelve or something.

@jebiknights offered:

I can't decide if baby Jango would be really impressed with "older him" or extremely "unimpressed." Also potential hilarity for Jango to be POSITIVE that the person couldn't possibly be him but DNA checks out and all the adults are like "nah Jango is just being a brat."

…technically this only works if there's one clone, unless the second clone is Boba or Omega, or both, posing as Themselves but selling the clone-is-actually-Jango gambit for reasons.

In my mind it's one of the clones that got scarred up enough that if one of Jango's childhood scars is missing, it's explained away with 'well half that leg is synthskin grafts anyway, so who the fuck knows when the small scar got replaced with a Big scar.'

Which is. Most of the clones that survived that long.

So much of the ploy is reliant on Boba feeding information to whichever clone this is (Wolffe or Rex, probably) about his dad in order to sell the bit, but like. IDK why he'd even be cooperating. Just that he is. For the bit. And some scheming.

Boba's already an adult if the clone in question looks fifty or sixty, which means Jango is following him and Omega around with stars in his eyes. Jango thinks future him is scary, but future kids are badass, so he's gotta figure out what kinda cool bounty hunter he can be, even if the future sounds like hell in a handbasket.

But the IMPORTANT PART is that Boba is uncomfortable as hell due to. uh. lying to his dad. and also the fact that bb Jango does not know, at all, how complex all the feelings that he and Omega and the older clone hold towards dead future Jango are.

Jaster is kind of happy/excited to see them all, but the fake future Jango is... not very friendly or familiar with him? Which he's upset by until Boba says "you died when he was fourteen, so um. I never even got to meet you? And I guess he doesn't know how to feel about it" which is a great way to lie with the truth.

I don't want Boba to be too old, but the age difference needs to make sense with how old they look. Early twenties for Boba would be mid-forties for the other clone?

And stress added a bit.

And they can drop the odd joke about how Jango 'aged well' and looks younger than he is.

(If the time-traveller clone is Rex, they are definitely being stalked by a former Jedi who is really weirdly fond of staking out in trees.)

By the time the double aging actually shows, they'll have hopefully come clean and/or skipped town (whatever their actual goal is).

#star wars #time travel #the clone wars #sw rebels #the bad batch #sw legends #jango fett #boba fett #jaster mereel #captain rex #commander wolffe #omega fett #idk what the usual way to tag her is so whatever #phoenix talks #identity theft #scams

[zethwritesss]

‘good morning babe’; a morning with your girlfriend, ellie; a very fluffy drabble/fic thingy

warnings: cursing, FLUFF!!! (idk why this is there oh well), established relationship, cuddles, mention of nsfw content.

synopsis: ellie helps get you up in the morning (+ some cuddles)

a/n: dedicated to y’all who hate mornings, figured i’d write this because i’ve been thinking abt it non stop- also i hope that the audio helps this little fic come to life a bit more!! i’ve done the audio to be read alongside the fic, or it can be just as a stand alone thing. ALSO reader is gender neutral!!

word count: 0.8 k

you heard your curtains get thrown to the side, allowing the way-too-bright sunlight to stream into your room. you decided to shove your face into some pillows and groaned.

you felt a hand lightly rub circles on your back. it took a few seconds for your senses to kick in. and fully register what’s going on around you.

you were lying on your stomach, your girlfriend sat down on your bedside.

“good morning babe-”

“elsss- ‘s too earlyyy…” you groaned, voice raspy, barely understandable as you had shoved your face into some pillows.

“i know i know… i’m not a morning person either so i get it. you were up pretty late last night huh?” ellie said, still rubbing your back.

you nod your head in response. you were indeed up late last night, sometime in-between 3-4 am. you didn’t even register ellie coming into your room, opening your curtains and sitting at your bedside.

”mhm wannagobacktobeddd” you mumbled incomprehensibly.

“hmm? what on earth did you just say?” ellie chuckled at your statement. you groaned in frustration, it was too early for you to deal with ellie’s shenanigans.

“can i have twenty more minutes of my fucking beauty sleep?”

“oh! now that gets the point across. i say ten more minutes.” ellie said, hoping you’d take her offer of an extra ten more minutes of rest.

“ten? els it’s too early for your shit. ” you protest.

“ten.” ellie said remaining firm on her stance.

“twenty.”

“what about fifteen? and i’ll join you-”

‘thank fucking god finally a viable option’ you thought to yourself.

“fine.” you grumbled.

“then move over so i have some room.”

ellie chuckled.

“but- im soooo comfyyy-“

“babe.”

“ellieee.” you cooed, your were extremely comfy in your bed, buried in your sage coloured duvet.

“well i’m making room for myself since someone‘s too stubborn to do it themselves!”

ellie shoved you over a little bit and climbed into bed, lying on her side, making sure she was able to see her sleepy partner. you were now face to face with her.

“hi!” ellie said with a slight smile.

“hi!” you reply, making eye contact with your beloved els. her sparkling green eyes, and freckled face mesmerizing you.

“how was your sleep?” she asks you, as you feel her hand come up to stroke your cheek. your felt your cheeks turn warm in response to her gesture.

“was good, needed more though.”

“don’t stay up too late then…”

ellie had a point, your sleep schedule had been all over the place.

“ellieee i know you are noooo better than me…”

ellie looked down at your statement, ashamed that you called her out.

“okay okay… yeah i think we both need to sort our sleep schedules out…”

you nod in response. you loved mornings with your girlfriend, she made them a lot more tolerable than before. ellie did have a point though!

“anddd how was yours?” you ask her.

“mine was good, glad to hear yours was good too! soo what were you up to so late?” ellie asked you.

“i just couldn’t fall asleep, your sleep talking didn’t help me… it was almost sleep yelling!” you say, giggling to yourself as you remember what ellie said in her sleep.

“well, what was i sleep talking about?”

“it was something about a horse, i think you were riding it, you kept telling it to giddy up”

ellie chuckled in response to you telling her about her sleep talking shenanigans.

“i do remember dreaming about being a cowboy- that’s probably it! didn’t think i’d be sleep talking though!”

“on this topic of riding, when can i ride you?”

you smirked, you liked to mess around with ellie. it was fun making her flustered and speechless.

“i- i- wow- wasn’t expecting that one at 11:32 in the morning… maybe later tonight-” ellie said, biting her bottom lip as her face went bright red at your comment.

“yeehaw!” you exclaim with a smirk on your face.

“up you get now-“

“but… ellie it hasn’t-”

“nuh uh- no buts. come on babe…” ellie tutted, with a grin on her face.

“whatcha-” you ask, followed by a squeal as ellie hits you with a pillow. then she quickly hops out of the bed, in case you were to retaliate.

“OKAY- OKAY. I’M UP!” you exclaim, sitting up on your bed.

“there we go- okay so now that you’re up i’ll leave you be. if you’re ready in fifteen, breakfast is on me!” ellie teased, before heading out of your bedroom.

you used to hate mornings, they were slow and draining at times. but with ellie they’re much more manageable, minus ellie’s tactics with a pillow.

“ALSO I’LL GET YOU BACK FOR HITTING ME WITH A PILLOW” you yell at your girlfriend, whose light chuckles could be heard from down the hall.

taglist: @elliessknife @little-star-bun @no-nameno-face @anchoeritic @solaceocean @winfleurs

#tlou fanfiction #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #zethwritesssfanfic