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#i had a very depressing day throwing things away

pastafossa · 2 years

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This is just going to be me being sad and venting about my day struggling with the fiberglass dust so feel free to scroll by, I won't judge.

I've spent hours trying to vacuum up the fiberglass dust and I feel like I've barely made a dent. I'm throwing out a lot, and a lot of it I could handle, like my old comfy recliner that probably wasn't going to fit the room all that well, or my little fabric end tables.

But some, like the little paper and fur lion puppet my mom got for me when she visited China, were far too fragile to clean with a vaccuum or lint roller or damp rags. Worse, things like that are irreplacable. My mom's retired now; she doesn't travel for business anymore, so there's no getting another puppet with that kind of meaning. That's the kind of stuff I cried over while throwing away.

#pasta life update #i had a very depressing day throwing things away #i cried a lot today #for some reason finding my little beloved daredevil beanie knocked on the floor and covered in dust just broke me #i'm going to try to save it like my shirts but i don't know #losing my little lion puppet hurt #he looked like one of the lions you see during the lion dances around the chinese new year #had little bells so he'd jingle when you moved him #and i hurt so much at the end of the day #because disability and chronic pain don't mix with trying to clean all this up #but unless i can find some cleaning company that'll handle fiberglass i don't have much of a choice #i wish i could curl up in my own bed #at least i accepted this is going to take a while and set up an air matress downstairs #sorry for all the venting #i'm just tired and achy and depressed and needed to spill somewhere

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scremogirl · 7 months

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✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡��𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Yandere! Nerd x Academic Rival! Reader

Mentions of depressive behavior/thoughts of suicide. AFAB! Reader: is called “Ms”.

Annoying.

A know-it-all smarty pants that was simultaneously the worst pain in your ass. Not that he meant to be of course; you couldn’t really blame him. Sure, some people are just naturally smart; but not him. Following you around like a lost puppy no matter where you went. He was toying with you on purpose and you knew it! You just couldn’t understand why he decided to make your life worse.

Now, the relationship you have is more one sided. You’d make subtle jabs and throw cheap shots his way but all he ever did was laugh it off. He never fought back. From what you’ve gathered, he just prefers to stare. And when I say stare I mean straight into your soul type stare. Every time he gets annoyed or is thinking really hard about something that’s what he does. Stares. It’s really creepy and unsettling, all the times you caught him or tried to, he would just look away blushing, trying his best to hide behind his shaggy hair. Eyes burn holes through the back of your head five out of the seven days of the week. However, even the two days you aren’t in school, the feeling of eyes on you never seems cease. You feel chills crawl up your spine and always look over your shoulder wherever you go only to find nobody there.

You’ve always strived to be the best. Your home life was like the equivalent of being tossed in solitary co finemente and being left to rot. It seemed as if your parents only cared about your academic life. Therefore, they were always super strict about your grades. You knew it came from a place deep within their hearts, they just wanted you to do good in life; but it still hurt. You wanted to make them proud. Wanted to feel loved by the people who were supposed to be closest to you. So you pushed yourself to limits nobody could ever reach. From winning spelling bees to holding the spot of Vice President on your school's student council team. Schools were already offering you all expense scholarships in freshman year!

You were an all rounder. One of the most involved students in your grade. You were in various sports and academic clubs, always helped in school fundraisers, and even have 500(+) SS hrs.

“ Apologies, Ms. (L/N), but there’s nothing we can do about this. You’ll have to get a tutor in order to pass,”

Technical engineering.

Your worst subject. You excelled in physics and math; some would say the best. You got the formulas down to a T and knew everything there was to know. It was more so the building aspect of things. There were just so many damn parts! Who even needs an electriconic digital caliper anyways?!

“I’m sorry, (Y/n), but that’s just the way things turned out. You need this credit to graduate, but you needn’t worry. Miylo is the best at this. He’s perfect for the job,”

Miylo Reneritzer. A 6 foot, dead eyed, pale skinned dork. He’s never stood out to you. He wasn’t popular or a scholar. He didn’t play sports and wasn’t in any clubs. He didn’t participate in the annual dances and didn’t attended school games. He was just there. A regular student with a knack for technicalogical architecture. You were in 11th grade at the time. You needed to get all your credits out the way so you didn’t have to worry about them senior year. Not that it was a problem for you seeing as all of them were already completed. Well… except this one. You’ve been putting off for so long. You had to face it sooner or later. Too soon for your liking.

You would meet with Miylo twice a week; you were place in the same tech class so the first meeting didn’t really count. He was a great teacher! A little quiet and very monotone, but very thourough none the less. By the end of junior year you ended up with a A-. You parents hammered you for not making it a plus but you’ve come to terms with it. He saved you. And you were grateful. You ended up losing contact the transitioning year and just never interacted again; almost completely forgetting about him.

He didn’t forget about you though. How could he?! You were the most beautiful girl in the entire school! Nobody could compare to you. What you didn’t know about him was he was s everely bullied and even contiplated ending everything. That was until you came along. Someone finally wanted to talk to him. Even if it was just for help getting a good grade. Taking to a pretty popular girl and getting money and an increases on his report card? Sign him up. That one day changed the entirety of his life, he owes his life to you.

All he remembers is being called down to the counselors office; parents ready waiting and giving him the most bone crushing hug. Everything seemed like a blur from then on. But what he can remember is how he got there in the first place.

“A friend of yours, (Y/n) (L/n) had some concerns about your health. She said she’s been paying attention to you for awhile and noticed your self destructive behaviors,” says the counselor.

What? Before he started tutoring you he thought you were a teachers pet and hog all the chances for others to answer questions but if saves him the embarrassment of public speaking he doesn’t mind. You’ve noticed him? In more than just at tutor-tutee way? Nobody ever notices him. Not even his own parents. It’s evident with the amount of shock on their faces and all their “why didn’t you tell me’s” and confessions of love. He’s mad at you at first. He spends at least 3mths in that looney bin because of you. He hated it at first. All the questions and discard for privacy. But… slowly he changes. He becomes healthy and happy again. His mind drifts back to you. The way you would answer questions when you noticed the teachers eyes land on him, the way you would always do the presenting part in group presentations, the way gum and smiley faced erasers would apprear on his desk on a particularly hard day. You cared. You did this for everyone you saw struggling. Not that he took that into account, in his mind, he was the only one. You thought he was special. And he wouldn’t let anyone take his spot in your heart.

When he got out, he decided he was a changed person. Senior year would be his redemption arc and you would finally be together. You already were in his mind; you were just to scared. He saw straight through your act. That’s why you would do all that stuff for him instead of just coming out and saying it. He needed to pull himself together and become a better person first. He wanted you to be proud of him. He wanted you to see him for all he’s worth. He joined all the clubs you were in and surpassed all expectations. He became popular, inserting himself into all your social circles and even became a student council member beside you. Or should I say infront of you? The President. And the validictorinan.

Ugh! Since when did he become so…so great!? You don’t have any clue where this change in him came from and you want him to go back to the way he was. You were the best! You didn’t work this hard for your parents approval for nothing. They would always compare you time him. Miylos the student council president they’d say. He would never get an A-, he would never miss a volleyball game because he was overwhelmed with school work, he would never feel how school was the only true escape from an emotionally disabled household. He would never understand. Oh, but he did.

He’s been in your house plenty of times to know what’s going on. Not that you’ve know of course. That explains all the missing panties. Hmm, maybe that explains where all of your pens have gone too. And your half eaten food, and the Polaroids you’ve take of yourself, and your rose to-… Regardless! You’ve had enough of this! You needed him to know just exactly how you felt. What other way than asking him to meet you under the tree on Fri before school ends?

“I already know,” Hm?

“Good. I couldn’t hold this in any longer. You do know just exactly what I feel,”

“Oh my love but I do,” ….my love? What is he taking about.

“What am I talking about? Oh sweetheart, don’t play coy with me. It’s okay; I’ve always know the real reason behind your aggression towards me. Your just shy is all. I just want to let you know that I love you too. More than you could ever know,” he steps forward and arms outstretched and expecting a hug. He push on his chest and stare up at him in confusion. Love him? You don’t love him, you despise him! He chuckles.

“Like I said, it’s okay to be open about how you feel. That’s why you brought me here isn’t it?” What! This wasn’t some sort of confession. Well…technically… but not one of love! He was here to understand how much you loathed him. He had to not like you either, that’s why he did everything you did right…Right!? He hated you. He had to!

“Hate you? (Y/n), I could never hate you. After all you saved me,” at this point you thiught he was joking with you. Furthering your suspicions of his true feelings. You tried marching pasted him only for him to grab you arm. You tried to shuck him off but his grip was strong. All those clubs really built up his physice. He wasn’t the same scrawny little geek you remembered. He was larger, seeming as if he grew a few more inches. He filled out his uniform more, and his eyes became brighter and more emotional. If your affliction for him didn’t exist you’d think he was cute. The only thing that seemed hadn’t changed about him was his unwavering love and loyalty to you. He huffs out an exasperated sign, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I get that your shy my love, but that’s there’s no need to be so rude. We’ll work on a more conventional way to express your emotions,”

“Do I have to spell it out for you! I don’t like you, you creep! You’ve been following me around every since the beginning of this year. You’ve taken everything from me. Clubs, student records, student president! Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get here! You act so laid back and relaxed about everything and it drives me nuts! I hate you!” You push past him again, angry tears forming from all the supressed emotional turmoil. He doesn’t grab you right away which makes you think he’s finally got the picture. Didn’t anyone ever tell you no to turn your back on the enemy? You’re suddenly grabbed and thrusted into the base of the tree. He tsks at your behavior before sighing again. Hands have now moved to your shoulders and apply slight pressure keeping you in place. If that didn’t do it, the way he's looking at you would’ve have; fierce and warning, and yet, filled with so much adoration.

“We need to fix this little attitude of yours, don’t we?” It’s rhetorical. You know that but you feel the urge to snap back at him. Before you could get a word out, you can her the distance ringing of the school bell signaling the end of the day. His phone rings on the last ring. He gives you a hard glare telepathically telling you not to move. He stands straighter and picks it up. With what you heard, the student council meeting is starting soon and the others are wondering where you two are. Saved by the bell. He sighs before grabbing his bag that he placed down as long as your hand before sighing.

“Unfortunately, we can’t continue this conversation my love. Lucky for us, it’s Friday. We’ll have the rest of the weekend to work it out of you,” he throws a coy smirk your way and grabs at his belt, readjusting it a bit. God, what will you do?

Hey loves! Hope you enjoyed. I’m thinking about making apart to of this. I wasn’t really confident in it and decided that I should give more explanation to Miylos behavior. This could just be his introduction and I’ll expand on it. Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

-Love, Sos❤️

#yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere! nerd x reader #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

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scarlethexelove · 1 month

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Please Don't Leave Me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4281

Warnings: Angst, Pregnant!Reader, Natasha being an ass, injuries, Depression, Wanda being the bestest of friends.

Part 2: Gone

A/n: Had this one in my head for some time and finally decided to write it. As it always seems these fics just seem to run wild and get longer than I mean them to be. I can tell you all right now I'm pretty sure your not going to like the ending very much 😅

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

“Natty.” You try to get your wife's attention as she moves around the room quickly. Natasha is shoving things in a bag. “Nat.” You try again, but she doesn’t stop. Frantically moving around the room grabbing whatever she can. “Natasha!” You finally yell at her. She still doesn’t stop her movements. “Y/n I can’t right now.” She says shoving the last of her things in her bag. “Nat I have something important to tell you.” You try to reason with the woman, but she just zips her bag throwing it over her shoulder and walks past you. “There are things you don’t understand. I have to go.” You grab her arm and she finally looks back at you. “I really need to tell you this.” You try to reason with her. Your eyes pleading with her just to let you talk. But she shakes her head and pulls her arm from your grasp. “There are more important things than you right now.” She makes it to the door letting it creak open. “We will talk when I get home.” She doesn’t face you, only slightly turning her head before she is gone. “Don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” You see her hesitate in the door but she shakes her head before slamming the door shut behind her.

Your heart shatters in your chest as your legs buckle beneath you. A muffled thud is heard as your knees hit the ground. Your hand covers your mouth as a sob escapes the depths of your chest. You pull the small stick from your back pocket looking down at the two pink lines. “I’m pregnant.” You whisper to yourself like somehow Nat will hear you and come back, but you know she won’t. To Natasha her job has always been more important than anything. She loves being an Avenger and helping people, but it always comes at a cost to you. You had a sliver of hope that maybe just maybe this could change that. After what she had gone through in the red room she was pretty sure that she couldn’t get you pregnant but here you are. The prospects of having a child had given you hope that maybe she would come back to you. Be the loving wife that you know she can be. The little pink lines now taunting you as tears splash down on the plastic blurring your vision and the once prominent lines.

It seems like hours before you finally pick yourself up off the ground. Finally having cried all the tears away. Pulling yourself off the ground as you wipe your cheeks before making your way to your shared bedroom. It is empty, too empty. The book Nat was reading was still sitting face down open to the page that she had left it on. Moon light shining through the curtains illuminating the dark room. You don’t bother turning on the lights or changing clothes as you crawl into the cold bed. Seeming much larger now than ever before. You curl in on yourself, exhaustion from all the tears you have cried catching up to you. A pain in your chest as you finally drift off into nothingness.

Over the next few days multiple new stations report of the Avengers fighting one another. The chaos and destruction of a German airport. You place a hand over your lower stomach as the news flashes. ‘Natasha Romanoff aka Black Widow has broken the Sokovia Accords. Now wanted for treason against the federal government.’ If you thought your heart couldn’t break more you were wrong.

It has been nearly four months since that fateful day. The day your world shattered around you. You had hoped that one day maybe Nat would try and contact you but those hopes had been dashed over a month ago. She had moved on and so should you. You slowly pack your things in the home that you once shared with your wife. You’re not even sure if you should call her that anymore. A single tear running down your cheek at the thought. You still love her deeply but you can’t live like this. You have a baby to think about now, you need to live for them. Placing your hand on your growing stomach as you gently rub your finger up and down feeling their movement and smiling.

A phone ringing breaks you from the tender moment. You grab your phone looking down to see an unknown number calling you. Your heart stops a moment wondering if after all this time it is finally Nat calling you. You're so distracted by the tight feeling in your chest that the phone stops ringing and the call ends. You still stare blankly at the screen before it starts to ring again. Phone lighting up in your hand once again still showing unknown as the caller.

This time you press the answer button. Your movements are slow as you bring it up to your ear. You open your mouth but no words come out, your breaths coming out erratic as you begin to panic. Your ear is soon filled with a soft voice. “Y/n/n?” That voice is distinct but not your wifes. “Y/n are you there?” The voice asks again. “W-Wanda?” Your voice trembles as your mind catches up. Your best friend is on the other side of the line.

This is the first time you have heard from any of the Avengers for a long time. Tony once stopped by but you refuse to let him in. You didn’t listen to any of the words coming out of his mouth as he spoke through the door. If it wasn’t for him you don’t think you would be in this position right now and maybe your hopes for a better future with Nat would have come true. Wanda had sent a few letters letting you know she was ok. You couldn’t obviously send anything back due to now knowing where she was and the nature of the events and why she was also on the run.

“Y/n/n?” Wanda’s voice breaks through your mind once again. “I-I’m sorry Wands. What were you saying?” Her words had been muffled by your mind. She shakes her head like you could possibly see her doing that. “Nothing sweetheart. Are you ok?” She can tell that something isn’t right. “Not really. I, I’m alone.” Wanda’s heart breaks for you. She may be on the run but she hasn’t been alone. “I’m tired, Wands.” You know you shouldn’t be thinking that with a child on the way but it has been hard. Tears start to fall down your cheeks as you sniffle into the phone.

Wanda made a decision right there. “Sweetheart, I'm going to send Vision to come and get you.” She knows it could be dangerous to have you with her but she also knows that you’re not a wanted fugitive so if for some reason that she is caught you will be left alone. But she will do everything in her power to keep you safe. She can’t stand to hear you this hurt and down. “W-what if that gives away where you are?” You question not wanting to bring her into any danger. “I’m safe here. If you want to, you can come here. We have to move every so often. You don’t have to if you don’t want to but I’m not going to leave you alone. You always have me.” You cry tears of happiness for the first time in a long time. “Yes.” Your voice is small but hopeful.

You land with Vision somewhere in what you believe to be Belgium. Vision never mentioned anything to you about your pregnancy which you are thankful for. You see Wanda bound out of the small quaint house on the outskirts of the town. You watch as she stops in her tracks a few feet away from you. Your head dropping, not wanting to see her reaction. Scared that she wouldn’t want you around any more.

“Y/n/n.” Wanda says quietly trying to get you to raise your gaze to hers but you don’t look up. Tears well in your eyes, scared to move, scared to look your best friend in the eye. Hands cup your face gently making you look up into green eyes. A soft smile on her face. “You're pregnant.” It’s not a question but a statement from the woman. You nod your head as she pulls you into her arms hugging you as tightly as she can without hurting you or the baby.

Just then the flood gates break. A sob leaves you as tears cascade down your cheeks into Wanda’s shirt. You bury your head in her neck. A hand rubbing gently up and down your back as you're held for the first time in months. Your legs give out as you clutch to Wanda for dear life afraid that you're going to wake up and she will be gone. Wanda holds on gently guiding you both to the ground as she lets you cry. Your tears soak her shirt as you sob for what feels like forever. Wanda whispers reassurances in your ear as she just holds you. Her gentle motions on your back, not ceasing.

Wanda lets you get out your pent up emotions. Sitting with you until your sobs turn into sniffles. “She left me. I never got to tell her.” You whisper, still gripping onto Wanda. “What sweetheart?” She asks, trying to get you to elaborate. “Natasha. I-I haven’t heard from her. She, she left that day to Germany. I tried to tell her. She, she told me that there were more important things than myself.” Wanda’s eyes swirl red with anger. How could Natasha do this to you? All she wants to do is fly off and break Natasha like she broke you. But Wanda comes back to reality when you grip her tighter, scared she will leave you just like Nat did.

“Please don’t leave me.” If it was even possible Wanda’s heart broke for you more. Like herself you don’t have any family. All of yours were gone long ago, but you had found a family in the Avengers, a wife. But that family is now broken but Wanda is determined to show you that she is still your family. “I’m not going anywhere sweetheart. I will always be here for you.” She kisses your head smiling. “And for the baby.” More tears come to your eyes but from happiness.

“So you and Vision?” You give a watery chuckle. Wanda nudges your shoulder and laughs. “Yeah.” She smiles happily when you pull back to look at her. “So like does he come with a vibrator setting?” You ask half joking half serious. “Oh my god Y/n!” Wanda exclaims, shocked by your bold question. You two laugh as she helps you off the ground leading you into the house.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to mention something to Nat?” Wanda asks you softly, causing you to look up from the book your head is buried in. You let out a sigh as this constant conversation. “If she wanted to know how I was doing she could have called me the same way you did.” You rub your swollen stomach. So close to meeting your precious little one. “Wands I know you are looking out for me and I also know how pissed you are at her. I also know that you partly want to tell her to rub it in her face on how royally she screwed up. She has had almost 9 months to find me. And I know that you said she has mentioned that she has done it for my own safety but at least hearing from her once would have been something. Instead she went no contact. The famous Black Widow knows how to send encrypted messages if she really wanted to.”

Wanda knows how much you are right and every time she has to touch base with the team she has been distant and cold with Nat. She so badly wants to break her heart the way she has to you. She knows how much you still love Nat and would love to be a family. These times are hard though with everyone on the run so she bites her tongue and nods her head to your words.

To get your mind off of things you put your book down and swing your feet off the bed. “Hey Wands, it's a nice night, maybe we can all take a walk.” Vision appears in the doorway. “That sounds like a lovely idea Y/n.” You smile at the synthezoid before giving a questioning look to Wanda. “Sure.” She nods her head. “But someone is going to have to help me with my shoes.” You chuckle trying to reach down to your feet which you can’t reach. The other two laugh before all of you put on some clothes and help you with yours.

Wanda and Vision are holding hands as you walk through the streets of Edinburgh, the quiet street clearing your mind as you three walk peacefully. Vision stops Wanda to talk a bit as you waddle over to a window with a news cast playing. You watch on as a breaking news cast flashes on the screen. As the scene plays out in front of you you gasp. “Wanda.” You call for her. The conversation dies between the two as they come up behind you seeing as the screen plays footage of New York being attacked. You all stand there silently as death and destruction is shown on the screen. Tony Stark missing flashes on the screen and Vision looks to Wanda.

“I have to go.” Vision says kissing Wanda’s hand that is still laced with his. He starts to walk away dropping her hand, Wanda pleads with him to stay. You start to drown them out as you watch the screen. Terrified that you may see something about Natasha come across it. Screams of pain makes you turn around seeing Vision impaled on a staff. “Vision!” Wanda screams, her hands glowing red ready to fight.

Someone else blasts Wanda from behind sending her flying into a building across the street. With you close proximity you're thrown back hard. Trying to brace yourself you hear a sickening crack as your wrist impacts with the ground. You scream out in pain. “Y/n!” Vision yells when he hears your cry of pain. You turn on the ground seeing him do the same. The two who attacked turned him over on his back and the thing that stabbed him placed the sharp end of the staff on his head.

Vision’s screams can be heard through the quiet streets. You struggle trying to get yourself up knowing your wrist is broken, cradling it close to your chest. You watch as red balls of energy slam into the two creatures throwing them back. Wanda runs towards Vision using her magic and pulling you safely over to him. Pain is written all over her face as she looks over the both of you. She uses her magic to lift all of you off the ground pulling you closer to her as she tries to fly you all away from the area. You all are almost hit by a beam causing Wanda to have to bring you all down. Wanda lands you both down gently laying you on the ground before turning to catch Vision with her magic.

“The blade, it stopped me from phasing.” Vision says as you see a bright yellow line in his body and he seems to be glitching. “Is that even possible?” Wanda asks, helping him sit up against the wall. “It’s not supposed to be.” He says, you can tell he is in pain. Your adrenaline is pumping so your wrist is just a dull ache at the moment. Wanda hovers her hand over Vision, her magic flowing and pulling the opening closed slowly but not completely. “I’m beginning to think we should have stayed inside.” You mumble feeling guilty that this could have been avoided if not for you avoiding your feelings about Nat.

You and Wanda are pushed back by Vision as one of the creatures grabs Vision flying off and fighting against a building. The other comes and attacks you and Wanda. Wanda puts a barrier of magic around you. She starts to fight the female creature as your heart races in your chest.

You lose sight of the both of them fighting. Wanda’s magic dissipates from around you allowing you to move forward looking for your friends. You can hear it now so clearly in your head like she actually is yelling at you. Natasha’s voice tells you to run and protect yourself, but Wanda is your best friend and she has been there for you. So you push that voice away following the commotion. You run into the train station seeing Vision propped against a railing. Wanda stands red surrounding her hands as the two creatures look ready to fight once again.

Squealing of wheels from the train moving past has you all looking. A dark figure in the shadows looms behind the moving train. The female creature throws her trident-like spear at the figure when the train passes. The figure catching it perfectly as he walks into the light you see Steve Rogers. You try to get up behind the female creature but she quickly turns wrapping her hand around your throat.

“Y/n!” Wanda screams. The female creature throws you back and you land on your back crying out in pain. You feel a gush of liquid between your legs after you hit the ground. Wings fly in front of you as Sam Wilson collides with the creature. You let your hand drift down feeling the wetness and bring your fingers back up into view, relieved that it isn’t blood, but your heart drops when you realize what is happening. You gasp in pain from the sharp feeling in your stomach.

Wanda uses her magic again to pull you towards her and Vision. Wanda pulls you into her lap. That is when you spot her in the distance. The hair color may be different but she is still herself. Natasha fights with Steve against the creatures. You have tears in your eyes as you look up at Wanda. “Wands, I think my water just broke.” You groan in pain again. You can see the panic in her eyes as she looks around the area. It’s not long before the fighting is done and the other three walk over towards you three.

Natasha stops dead in her tracks when she sees you. Your swollen stomach has her chest rising and falling a bit fast. She thinks maybe it could be someone else's but she knows deep down that the baby is hers. She wants to cry but she turns stone cold hiding her emotions. Hating herself for leaving you, for never reaching out in all this time. You cry out in pain causing her to look back to you. You're curled in on yourself in Wanda’s lap. “It hurts.” You whimper. Wanda holds you closer to her. “I know sweetheart.” Wanda looks to the other three. “We need to get them out of here.” She can see the two men side eyeing her before Steve speaks up. “Quickly, get them to the Quinjet.”

Natasha moves to help you but you pull away. “I have her, can you help Vision?” Wanda says flatly, Nat can only nod moving away and helping Vision up. Wanda effortlessly lifts you in her arms and you all make your way to the Quinjet. Your contractions are getting strong and closer together. Natasha can only watch from afar as you whimper in pain. Wanda helps you and Vision sits close holding his side.

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Wanda says brushing the hair sticking to your forehead out of the way. “We will be at the compound in 30 minutes.” Steve explains. “Steve, I don't know if she can last that long.” She iterates looking back down at your pained face. “It’s the best I can do Wanda.” She sighs gently stroking your cheek. “It’s ok Wands. I’ll be o-” Your cut off by another contraction. All Nat can do is look on with regret.

Once the quinjet finally lands Wanda lifts you in her arms again and runs into the compound they enter and see Rhodey talking to a hologram of Secretary Ross. “We need medical.” Natasha says out, causing Rhodey to turn and for Secretary Ross to start arguing. You can’t concentrate on what they are saying but you know it isn’t great. Rhodey ends the call and signals for medical, who come in with Bruce.

As they wheel you away the team follows. Before Wanda can head in after you Nat grabs her arm. Wanda whips her head around anger evident on her face. “Please just tell me. Is it mine?” Wanda gives an amused chuckle. “Of course it’s yours.” She pulls her arm from Nat’s grasp and follows you in the room. Nat lets tears slip down her face. She left you alone pregnant with her child. Not once contacting you in the last nine months. She had told herself she was doing it to protect you and to keep you out of this life, but she was wrong and she sees that now. She understands now why Wanda became so cold towards her after a few months. She has to fix this. She has to be able to win you back and to become the family she always wanted and she will do anything to get that back.

Natasha can hear your cries of pain as you go through labor wishing more than anything she could be there with you but you don’t want her to be. But you chose Wanda and she understands why. She soon hears other cries. The crying of her child as they are born. Tears slip down her cheeks as she hears them. The boys know not to go around her or to talk to her at this moment. She is breaking on the inside and all she has to blame is herself.

An hour later Wanda walks out and comes over to Nat. Her head is down, not looking at the younger woman waiting for a scolding, but that doesn’t come. “You can go meet your son.” Wanda speaks with no emotion to her voice. Natasha looks up and Wanda can see she has been crying but that doesn’t change how angry Wanda is at her. “I have a son?” Nat whispers. Wanda just nods her head and moves out of the way.

Natasha slips into the room quietly. Her heart stops seeing you laying in the bed with a blue bundle in your arms and a smile on your face. More tears spill as she quietly makes her way over to you. You don’t look at her until she is standing right next to you. “He’s beautiful.” Nat mumbles trying to stop the sob that so desperately wants to escape. You have a soft look on your face and she can’t read it. “Meet Alexander Pietro Romanoff.” You smile down at your son. Natasha lets the tears freely fall. “Romanoff?” She questions you. “Romanoff.” You repeat looking back up at her with a soft smile. She feels a flicker of hope that she can fix this, that she can have her family.

“Do you want to hold him?” You ask her softly and lightly lift him the best you can with your broken wrist. Nat nods and takes him from you holding him in her arms. She has so much love for him already that more tears well in her eyes. You watch her as she holds the baby and cries.

“I’m sorry.” Nat whispers. “I'm so sorry.” She looks at you with teary eyes. “I know.” Is all you can respond with. She looks back down at the now sleeping boy. Just looking at him and remembering all of his features. She had seen the flicker of green in his eyes, the same as hers. But he looks so much like you. He is just as beautiful as you are.

Loud beeping makes Nat’s head snap up. Your face is now pale and your eyes are closed. The sheets are staining red between your legs. Doctors rush in as she backs away holding her son close to her chest. He starts to cry with all the noise and commotion. Her heart rate picks up and she starts to panic. The voices of the doctors are muffled to her ears as she feels the blood rushing around. She can only focus on you, your face pale and your body limp in the bed as doctors work around you. They soon wheel you out of the room mentioning something about you hemorrhaging and needing to go to surgery.

Nat starts sobbing in the empty room. All that is left is herself and her son. She slides down the wall begging to whatever is out there in the universe that you will be ok. That you will come back to her and your son. Promising that she will do better and be better. She will be the wife that she had promised in her vows. She will do anything for you to take her back, just please let you live. She whispers in the emptiness. “Please don’t leave me.”

#new fic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff xreader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #kind of mean natasha #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader angst

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bambihrt · 3 months

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Celebrating your Anniversary with Lucifer Part 2

I wasn't planning on writing a second part but after seeing how loved part one was I just had to so enjoy!

Lucifer considered himself a nervous demon. Blame his abandonment issues for that. He knew you loved him, but he couldn't help his anxiety telling him that you'd leave just like everyone else has. One night when sleep couldn't find him, he snuck into his workshop to fiddle with his ducks to distract him from his worries. All of a sudden he felt two arms circle his neck and you nuzzle to his left side.

"C'mon baby, you can work tomorrow, let's go to bed."

Though he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep, he took your hand and let you lead him to your shared bedroom. As he crawled under the covers, you snuggled up next to him. holding him as you pet his hair. Throughout this whole encounter, he was silent and had a distant look in his eyes. You could see through this act immediately and knew what the cause of his nighttime anxiety was.

"I can't wait to wake up next to you forever. I'll always be here with you Lucifer. I love you."

After that night you made sure to always validate his feelings when he was having a moment of low self-esteem. You started leaving notes around your home for him to find at random moments. Opening the pantry he'd find a note on his favorite cereal telling him 'good morning lu!' and opening his tool box he'd find another post-it saying 'can't wait to see what you create :D'. Through these little actions, he'd learned to trust that you will be there for him.

One day while you were out to see your friends he was having a bit of a depressive episode and didn't want to bother you while you were enjoying yourself so he went into your office. He grabbed your favorite plushie knowing it would smell like you and give him comfort. As he turned the stuffed animal in his arms he felt a crinkle and pulled what was stuck on it off. A note reading 'call me love :('. This moment was when he knew.

Lucifer had to marry you. Nothing would make him happier than the honor of being your husband.

Bringing him back to the present day, he watched you try and hook a golden duck for him in the game you made. Of course, you would do something so special for your anniversary. You weren't the only one with a surprise up your sleeve. He checked his watch noting it was almost time.

"(Y/n)? My love? I've left my phone inside I-"

"Oh I'll go grab it don't worry," you immediately cut him off not wanting to make him go in on his own. As you headed inside the hotel, you were met with a trail of rose petals leading you under the chandelier. "What is this?"

Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer was walking behind you and cleared his throat stealing your attention away from the grand decor around you. He got down on one knee and pulled a box out of his pocket.

"I thought it was only fitting to do this in the very place we met and on our anniversary. From the moment I met you, I knew you were special. You showed me the light when I was stuck in a dark place and ever since then, I've loved you more than anything. You have been the best partner I could ever dream of. There's only one thing that could make my life perfect and that would be you agreeing to marry me. (Y/n) my heart and soul, will you allow me to be your husband?"

Nodding, you couldn't get the words out as you began crying. You had no idea Lucifer had been planning this. A high-pitched squeal came from behind as Charlie jumped out throwing rose petals over you, "I'm so happy you're joining our family!"

Lucifer reached out to your hand, slipping the most beautiful ring you'd ever seen onto your finger, and gently pulled you into a tender kiss. Softly whispering, "Thank you for everything, my love."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer

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jhkfan123 · 3 months

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you're losing me | coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x !fem reader

in which: after a work trip, y/n finds coriolanus with another woman

warnings: angst, conflict, cheating, shouting, panic attack, no happy ending (only read if you want to depressed)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i'm actually not sure where this came from but i am lowkey proud of the writing.

"you say 'i don't understand' and i say 'i know you don't'"

you were so excited to come home early. surprise him. bring home his favorite dinner for him.

you had been gone three days now. it was a trip for all the interns at the job you had been interning at. in fact, you were studying your favorite subject. you were desperately looking forward to actually starting your career with the people you were now working with. but they had let you come home a day early. because today was your birthday, and you wanted to spend it with the love of your life.

with the bag of food in your hand, you opened the door to the penthouse. it was dark out, and there were no lights on, so you flipped one on. he was not in the main room, so you placed the food on the kitchen table and began to search for him. you checked the living room, nothing, so you headed for your bedroom. from under the door, you could see that the lights were off, which had you thinking maybe he wasn't home. nevertheless, you opened the door.

you shouldn't have. you should have stayed on your regular path. you should not have come home early, then you could have lived with him blissfully unaware.

but you did. you opened the door. and you found him, with clemensia dovecote. giving her kisses in places he hadn't given you in a long time. he quickly stopped when he heard the door creak open. the two of them immediately started shuffling around, and you slammed the door. you gazed at the closed door for a moment, realizing what you had just seen. then you ran to the bathroom, and locked the door. you slid down on the door, and began to breath very heavily.

every time you tried to capture your breath, you would lose more air. every time you tried to breath in and out, in and out, in and out, you just choked. you felt warm tears stream down your cheeks, which sent you into another spiral. you ran your hands through your hair and tried to get yourself together.

you had been dating him for three years. three years. three years. and now he throws it all away? since senior year. the two of you had been dating, since before the 10th hunger games. He went away to district 12, and when he came back, he came running back to you.

you never thought this of him. he was protective, and jealous, and seemed to be obsessed with you.

on the bathroom floor, you tried to calm down. you tried the only thing you knew.

five things you can see: the floor, the sink, the toilet, the shower, the candle on the counter.

four things you can touch: the cold floor, the towel hanging low on the rack, your own arm, the drawer near you

three things you can hear: the buzz of the air conditioner, your breath, and shuffling in the hallway. that didn't help

two things you can smell: the lingering scent of the candle from when it had most recently burned, and the scent of your body wash in the shower, even though it was faint

one thing you can taste: the salty tears now running into your mouth.

you could now take slightly deeper breaths. you realized you would have to go out there soon. maybe you would wait two minutes. maybe clemensia would leave.

clemensia. you hadn't even seen her since graduation. you thought he hadn't either. clearly that was wrong.

the two of you had a strange relationship. you were always jealous of her, but for some reason, she was always jealous of you too. anything you would do, she would do better. and anything she would do, you would do better. it was a constant battle to be on top.

you thought you had won. you got the guy, the grades, the job, everything. now you weren't so sure.

you took one final deep breath, attempted to balance and get yourself up. you unlocked the door, and almost opened it. but then a knock was heard from the other side of it. you opened the door and saw coriolanus with his head down. you pushed past him and made your way for the kitchen. he began to walk behind you.

"hey, i-" you heard. you pivoted on your foot and stopped abruptly. he jumped back.

"what the fuck, coryo." was all you could get out. he winced at his nickname. "really! clemensia dovecote!" you felt tears stream down your face again.

"look, it didn't mean anything" he sighed out.

"that's all you can come up with? coryo," he looked like he hurt more each time you said his name "then why would you do it in the first place!" you shouted. you didn't mean to, but it wasn't your decision. it just happened.

"i," he began to stutter. you could tell he was trying to make up excuses.

"please don't make excuses. be an adult." you said. you closed your eyes to get the remaining tears out.

"i don't know." he responded. you sighed with immense disappointment.

"yes you do. yes you do." every time you were stressed, you had a habit of repeating yourself. it was comforting, hearing yourself. "you wouldn't-" you took a deep breath. "you wouldn't have done it if you didn't have a reason." now he took a breath.

"she had been reaching out to me a lot recently. i didn't tell you anything because i didn't think it was anything. then-"

"how long." you asked. he looked up at you as you interrupted him. "how long have you been with her." you desperately wanted to know. "how long have i only been loving half of you. how long have i only been loved by half of you" you asked.

"i swear, i swear it was only tonight." he said. that actually made it worse.

"coryo, it's my birthday." you choked on tears that were now streaming down your face again.

"i, know. i know." he seemed to be kicking himself. he attempted to get closer to you, but you backed up. now the two of you were on opposite sides on the island.

"what did i do." you asked. double the amount of tears were coming down now. "how badly did i screw up that you did this."

"you did nothing, my love. it's my-"

"do not call me that." you cut him off. he nodded in acceptance that he didn't get that right anymore. he didn't get any part of you anymore. you could have swore you say his eyes get teary, now.

"she came on to me." he explained.

"you could have got her off. but you didn't. you kissed her. and you kept kissing her. and you took your shirt off. and that's the image i walked in on. do not put this on her. yes, she shouldn't have done that, but it's your responsibility, coryo. it's your responsibility to tell her no." now a tear did stream down his face as he listened to you. "so i ask you again, what did i do?" you felt yourself getting weak. you were so disheveled and out of it that you hadn't realized how hungry you actually were.

"you didn't do anything." he responded, fairly quickly.

"then why!? why would you ever do this!" you shouted again. snot getting everywhere and your vision become more blurry with each tear.

"it just happened. you didn't do anything. and i'm a horrible person and i know this is a horrible situation and you don't deserve this at all, but please, believe me, when i tell you that i love you." the words stung you like an alcohol wipe on an open wound. the words felt like a stab in your back, like a stab in your heart.

he made his way over to you again. you were to weak to back up. you looked up at him, your vision allowing you to just barely see his silhouette.

"coriolanus, i don't even know if i can believe you anymore." you crumpled this time. the tears all came out at once. you began to sob, and then your legs gave up. you fell to the floor in agony. you felt coriolanus grab you, and you didn't move. you had no energy to. but how could he even allow himself to touch you like this?

he got down onto the floor with you, and held you around your chest while you sobbed. he didn't say anything. he was probably lost in the smoke of his guilt, that had now flooded the entire penthouse.

the warmth of his body would have normally felt comforting, like cuddling in a warm blanket. but not now. you were ice cold. shivering from your hunger, and your tears. not even the heat of his body could melt the quickly freezing heart you had for him.

it felt like hours passed before you finally managed to see your surroundings. when you managed to finally calm yourself down enough to stand, you moved yourself away from coriolanus. then you sat. both of you, at the island.

the two of you were silent. the two of you had nothing left to say. the two of you had nothing left to do. all you could do was do the next right thing. and in your mind, that was to go somewhere. anywhere but here.

"i'm leaving." you got up, took a second to gain your balance, you still hadn't eaten after all, and grabbed your bag.

"it's freezing out. please, stay." he begged. his eyes were also dried out from the tears he shed.

"i walked here, earlier. i can walk back." you replied.

"where will you go?" he asked. you thought. you had moved in with him after graduation. his home was the only one you knew for the last three years of your life.

"i'm going to go stay with a friend. and then, i am going to come back, in a few weeks, and get my stuff. move out." you laid out your plan for him. you saw another tear fall from his face.

"are you sure?" he asked.

"coriolanus, i'll be fine." you began to make your way towards the door. then, you paused. a single tear flowed down. "i will miss you, though. i hope you know that." you said. you refused to turn back. you refused to look at him. if you did, you thought you might go running back to him. if you did, you would never look away again. so you opened the door.

"i'm always going to love you. and i'm always going to be here. for you." he said. your heart begged you to look back, but you couldn't. not after that.

and, even though it slowly broke every part of you. you steadily closed the door behind you.

#jhkfan123 #tomblyth #coriolanussnow #coriolanus snow #hunger games #tom blyth #hungergames #tbosas #snow lands on top #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #im really sorry im not sure where this came from

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strawberrysturniolo · 2 months

Text

never grow up seven

summary: after taking things to long distance, sunny and chris face the highs and lows of their love story. smuttyyyyyy and angstyyy. mentions of depression. some phone sex.

part six

part eight

Chris’ POV

The first two weeks of me and Sunny were so good. So fucking good.

We were on such a high, a honeymoon phase I had never experienced before. We were talking consistently, both of us trying our hardest to make time for each other while we continued with our lives as we lived on opposite sides of the country.

One weekend in particular, I was kinda shit about responding, but it really wasn’t my fault. I had a shoot for Fresh Love on Friday, then had to go to an event that night. Saturday, we filmed a collaborative video all day with other YouTubers, and that night we filmed our podcast for Monday. Sunday, I met up with my friends at a music video shoot, and now that it’s Monday again, Sunny is back in classes.

I woke up late from having such a loaded weekend, and when I tried calling her at 1 p.m., she declined my call.

Me: Hey. Are you in class?

Sunshine: at work

Me: Oh

Me: Sorry. I had a crazy weekend. Woke up late because I’m exhausted. Can you talk after work?

Sunshine: i wont get home until midnight and then i have an 8 am tmr.

Sunshine: you didnt have a minute to text at all?

Me: I’m sorry baby

Me: I was really busy

Me: I’m trying to talk now but it’s the time zones fault

Sunshine: yeah

I know she’s upset with me. This is one of those unfortunate things that comes with distance. I’m really trying. When both of us are free, it’s great, and we can talk forever, but when one of us is really busy, it throws everything off.

My schedule was loaded this weekend, and hers is loaded through the week with her classes and work, so with those combined, we haven’t really talked in a week.

Me: I love you. Text me when you’re home from work so I can say goodnight

Sunshine: i love you too

I feel like shit. I’m really trying here. I can’t read her tone over text messages, and we haven’t had the time to have a real conversation over the phone.

We’ll try harder tomorrow.

–

Sunshine: are u kidding me christopher!!!!

Me: What!!!

Sunshine: what are these flowers for??????

Me: Lol. Surprise

Sunshine: i’m gonna cry

Me: Noooo they weren’t supposed to make you sad

Sunshine: i’m happy! this was just so sweet. i miss you sm

Me: Can you talk?

She FaceTime’s me instantly. I was never a FaceTime kind of guy. Even though me and my brothers are away from everyone we grew up with, I still was never the kind of person to opt for a FaceTime call.

With her, I’ll always answer a call so I can see her face.

“Hey, pretty girl,” I smile, watching her place her flowers into a clear vase in her kitchen. I lay down on my bed, tucking a pillow under my chin.

“Hi!” she waves. She’s fucking adorable. “This is so cute, Chris. I had no idea you were doing this!”

“That’s the point of a surpriseeeeeee,” I remind her. “Did you see the card?”

“I did,” she nods, smiling big at me. “Very sweet of you.”

I shrug casually. “I try. How was your day?”

She lets out an exhausted sigh. “Good, but busy. I’ve kinda been feeling like shit lately.”

I sit up straight, pushing the pillow I had been laying on out of the frame. “What? Why didn’t you say something?”

“You’re 3,000 miles away,” she reminds me. “What are you going to be able to do?”

“Listen while you rant, give you advice, give you some encouragement,” I list off for her. “What kind of shit?”

“Just the usual–”

“Sunny!” I interrupt her. “You gotta tell me these things!”

“Well, sorry! I didn’t want to text you, ‘Hey, congrats on all the great stuff you’re doing, I’m super depressed and feel miserable all the time and all I want is my boyfriend to come home and be with me.’ That would only make me feel worse.”

I frown at her. I don’t want her feeling like she’s going to rain on my parade.

“I’m okay, Chris,” she assures me. “Promise. I wasn’t feeling too well, but I’m better now.”

“Will you tell me next time? I don’t want you to be alone.”

She nods gently. “Mhm, I’ll tell you.”

“I’ll come back by myself if I have to–”

“No,” she interrupts. “You’re going to stay and do your thing because I need to be able to figure this out myself. You can’t run back to Boston anytime I have an issue.”

“Why not?”

She gives me a ‘come on,’ type look, like I’m being ridiculous. “How was your day?” she asks me instead.

I lift the camera up so she can see me laying in my bed. “Hasn’t started yet.”

I can see her eyes scanning my body closely, her face inches from her phone as she bites her bottom lip. I know she’s staring at my body. We’ve been feeling more risky about things, sending each other suggestive photos. It’s the only way I can really feel close to her sexually. I never thought I would be sending her, of all people, pictures of my hard dick through my underwear.

The other night she got me good, sending a picture of herself in the shower, her arm covering her tits, but pressing them into her chest enough for them to look plumper than usual. The water droplets on her skin added more to the photo, sending me into a spiral.

“Whatcha looking at, babe?”

She smirked at me through the phone. “The underwear poking out of your sweatpants.”

“Yeah?” I asked, pushing my pants down so she could see my underwear fully. I pulled the bottoms of it down more, seeing that it rode up my thighs as I laid down.

“Jesus,” she sighed, taking me into her room with her.

“Yeah?”

I set the phone up on a stray pillow across my bed so she can see my entire body. I press my hand into my dick, palming myself lightly. I immediately feel a rush through my dick, forcing me to shove my hand into my briefs to touch myself.

“I miss you baby,” I nod at her. “Miss your sweet face.”

She watches me as I stroke my dick, whispering softly in that sweet voice, “I miss you more.”

Not a fucking chance.

“No shot,” I challenge.

“I promise,” she insists, her doe eyes really doing the trick to convince me.

I hold my dick still in my fist, shoving my briefs out of the way so she can see me. “You see how much you turn me on, baby?” I ask her, hoping she notices how red my tip is right now from the swelling, not to mention the fact that I have precum leaking out of me like I’m touch starved, probably because I am.

She lays down on her bed, right on her stomach. She mumbles a “fuck,” as she gets comfortable. “You’re so hot.”

“You are,” I smile, stroking myself faster.

I watch as she pulls her jeans off, lifting her ass in the air for me to see.

I pause for a second as I stare at her lower back, the thong hugging her hips in the most perfect way. I’m contemplating booking a flight right now so I can put my handprints all over that ass.

“Ohhh fuck,” I groan, squeezing around my tip with a tight fist. “You’re perfect.” She smiles at me as she watches my motions, now listening to my groaning sounds as I struggle to keep myself casual.

“Does that feel good?” she asks curiously as she turns over to her back.

“Mhm,” I hum. “Not as good as you.”

She lowers the camera to her pelvis, showing me her hand as it glides down her thong, and settles right over her pussy.

“Oh good girl,” I nod. “Show me how you touch yourself, Sunny.” She lowers the camera even further, settling it between her legs on a pillow somewhere a few inches out. I have a clear shot over her fingers burying themselves in her. A loud moan escapes my lips. “Perfect fucking pussy. All mine, right?”

“Uh huh,” she whimpers.

My cock continues to drip, and I quickly spread the precum across my length. “Talk to me baby. Tell me how much you need me,” I taunt as the sound of me fucking my hand fills the room. “My mouth on your swollen little clit, yeah?”

She nods desperately as she rubs herself faster. “I need you so bad, Chris,” she whines for me. “Stretching me out like before.”

“Yeah?” I ask, mindlessly bucking my hips so I get the illusion of her pussy as my hand right now, hovering above me as my dick buries itself into her. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby.”

I set my phone up next to me, changing the angle slightly so she can see my face and my dick in the same shot. My balls tighten, and I rub them for some sort of release.

I listen to her pretty moans, using them as fuel to the fire.

“You’re so pretty, Chris,” she tells me, but I can’t focus on it. I’m moaning so bad, I sound like a fool.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant to myself, my face scrunching in pleasure as she continues to try talking me through it, but my ears are fucking ringing as the release floods through me. “Oh! Shit!” I curse loudly, laying my dick on my stomach and rubbing myself through my orgasm, the cum dripping across my abdomen.

I keep my eyes on her despite how heavy they feel. My breathing is just as bad. “God, keep going baby,” I encourage her, noticing how badly she’s dripping in front of me and I can’t fucking touch her.

“I’m close, Chris.”

“Uh huh, you got it.”

The sound of her fingers going in and out of her has me ready for another round. I’m half hard, really debating on going again as I watch her.

“Oh god, Sunny,” I breathe out. She looks fucking beautiful. She always does. “My perfect fucking girl.” She bends her knees, the most perfect shot of her pussy as she cums directly in my vision. “Ohhhh there you go.” She starts panting tirelessly as it drips down her hand. “Good girl. Fuck, I wish I was there to lick you clean baby.”

She looks down at the mess she made and says, “Me too.” Once she cleans herself up and settles back in bed, she asks, “When are you coming home?”

I wipe my stomach clean and pull on a clean pair of underwear. “I don’t know yet, I answer honestly. “Maybe the end of the month.” She nods at me, and I can tell she’s disappointed. “Soon, I promise.”

“Okay,” she gives me a half smile. “I have to go change for work.”

I nod, disappointed that our call is coming to an end. “Okay. Have a good day, baby. I love you.”

“I love you,” she says, and that’s the last time I talk to her that day.

–

The last few days have been rough. We’re back to barely talking. I feel like shit. I feel guilty, but it’s not my fault. I’m trying, I really am. It’s the time zone. It’s fucking everything up. I sleep in, and by the time I’m up and doing stuff, she’s at work and can’t talk. Then she’s going to bed, and we have like… an hour in the day to talk.

I thought we could make this work. I thought things would fall into place.

I’ve stayed up every night this week trying to think of how to talk to her about this, but I’m too scared. I keep holding back everything that I feel.

I’m quite literally shaking as I click on her contact, texting her a quick message.

Me: Hey. Can you talk?

Sunshine: i’m about to go to bed

Me: Please

A photo of her smiling pops up on my phone with her caller ID on top. I answer the call with a deep breath.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” she mumbles. “What’s up?”

“Are you in bed already?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “Long day. Is everything okay?”

No.

I’ve never been in this position before, and I don’t know how to do this the right way.

Just rip off the bandaid.

“I don’t think this is working out,” I say simply. My voice is soft, yet firm.

I hear the rumbling of her bedsheets and then her broken voice. “What?”

Shit.

That pretty voice that sews me together just ripped me apart.

“Sunny– I just– I don’t think I can give you what you need,” I say honestly, picking at the subtle rip in my jeans on my thigh. I pull at the fraying material and toss the scraps on the floor.

“Chris–”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, looking at my ceiling. “I just don’t think it’s fair to keep stringing you along if I know it’s not going to work out.”

I know this isn’t what she wants to hear. I think in the future we could work out, but right now, we’re doomed. I don’t want to have this heartbreaking story when we could prevent it. We were in over our heads.

“We’ll try harder,” she says.

The desperation in her voice is killing me. “I know this is hard.” Fuck, I’m trying to keep myself together so I don’t back out of this. “But I think it’s better this way.”

“We can make it work, Chris,” she insists.

I shake my head, trying to keep myself from breaking down. “It’s not that easy. You deserve someone who can give you everything you want and need. Someone who can be there for you, emotionally, and physically… and I can’t do that for you right now. It’s so hard for me not being with you. I just want to hold you and be with you and I can’t, Sunny. I want to come home and be with you everyday but I need to be in LA.” The line is silent, and I know she’s going to make this hard for me. I deserve it, but she deserves the truth. “I really want this, but I can’t give it to you right now, and it’s not fair for either of us.”

The only conversations we’ve had this last week are us arguing or sexting. That’s not how this should be.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” she asks hesitantly. I know she’s scared of the answer.

I let out a heavy sigh, my hand running through my hair and tugging on it. “A little bit. I don’t know how long, but I’ve been trying to ignore my feelings and–”

“And you didn’t tell me you were having doubts?!” she asks accusingly.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to talk about it with you. I just– Fuck, Sunny– This is difficult and–”

“How is it difficult!” she asks. “I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to be the easiest person for you to talk to.”

“I know,” I agree with her, but does she not realize how fucking hard it is knowing that the one person I’m trying to be open with is the person who is going to face the damage? “That’s why it’s so hard. I don’t want to lose you as a friend too.”

She ignores my point.

“Why did you start a relationship with me then? You started this, Chris.”

I mean, she kissed me, but alright.

I’m too in shock at her tone and fight for this to think of anything to say.

“I… I didn’t mean to,” I stumble over my words. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought we could make it work.”

“Then let’s make it work.”

I roll my lips into my mouth, trying to keep myself from crying. The sound of her voice is destroying me. “Maybe we can, but right now I just need some time to think.”

“How much time?” she asks.

“I don’t know. A few days, maybe? A week?”

She scoffs. “Chris, if you have to think about if you want me or not then–”

“I said I need time to think, Sunny,” I remind her. “I’m not making any decisions right now.”

“But you’re questioning us to begin with! You said you’ve felt like this for a while so what’s there to think about!”

“Baby–”

“Don’t,” she says sharply.

I pace my room, a pit in my stomach growing. This is fucking awful. “I said I can’t right now.”

I hear a soft cry from her end, and I freeze. “Please, don’t do this.”

My eyes well with tears. “I’m so sorry. I really am. But I can’t be in this with you if I’m feeling doubts. I just need to figure things out, and maybe we can work it out.”

Something in her switches and all those tears and sadness turn into anger.

“So you fuck me after we’re friends for our whole lives. Then you leave without a word. Then you come back and say you’re in love with me, fuck me again, and then leave and want me to move on and be with other people. Oh wait! But then!” she continues. I just stand there in the middle of my room and let her rip me apart through the phone. “You want me to be with you and we’re happy and great and then you drop this and say you’ve been unhappy and want to break up?”

Yeah… So, I sound like shit.

My eyes narrow as I grip my phone. “That’s not fair,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t force you into anything, and I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“But you made me feel wanted by you!”

“I do want you!” I remind her. “But this isn’t about what we want, it’s about what I need right now.”

She pauses and lowers her voice. “Do you need me?”

I hate myself for the way I hesitate to answer her.

“Yes, I do.”

I can almost hear the sigh of relief in her voice.

“But not in the way you’re asking.”

Then I hear her cries. At this point, I’m breaking down with her.

“Is there anything I can do to make this work?” she asks again.

“No. There’s nothing you can do.”

I sit on my bed, listening to her cry, and I feel awful knowing that I can’t wipe those tears like I always do.

“I love you so much Chris,” she says desperately.

I wipe the tears that fall down my own cheeks. “I love you too, but I can’t be with you like this. Not right now.”

“Are we still going to be friends?” she asks. “Or are you going to go ghost again for four months?”

“I’m not going to ghost you,” I assure her. I fucked up that time, I really did, but I thought it’s what we needed. That time of no contact to figure ourselves out. It clearly made things worse. “I think we need some space though, just for a little bit.”

She’s pissed. It’s obvious. She’s gone from trying to talk me into staying with her, to now saying nothing at all.

“Look,” I say, trying to keep myself from sounding like a broken record. “I get that you’re hurt and disappointed, but I need to do this. I can’t keep going through this cycle of wanting you and then pulling away from you because I’m scared. I need to get to a place where I feel secure with you and I know we can make it work. Right now, it’s not that time.”

All I want right now is to hold her, kiss her, tell her it’s going to be okay. I want to lay next to her and smile at her before we go to bed. I want to be with her forever, never losing sight of each other.

But if we keep trying to force this relationship, we’re only going to ruin everything.

“I wish I could hate you,” she sobs. “I really do. But I could never hate you, Chris, and that’s the worst part.”

“I’m sorry,” I keep saying to her. The pain in my voice only becomes more evident. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I’m always going to be in love with you, and you’re always going to know it.”

I sigh heavily. “I know. And that’s part of the problem.”

“Why?”

“Because,” I say, pausing to find the right words. “I can’t be with you like this. I need to figure myself out first.”

“You started this!” she says again.

“I know.” My voice is heavy with guilt. “And I’m sorry.”

“Are you even upset about this?” she questions. “I’m sitting here fucking crying and it’s like your emotions are shut off! Give me something, Chris!”

“Of course I’m upset!” I raise my voice in frustration. “You want to hear me cry? I never meant to hurt you like this.”

“THEN STOP!” she screams.

“I’M TRYING!” I yell back, my eyes rimmed with tears. “I can’t keep having this conversation. I’m sorry, but we need to break up.”

The line goes silent again.

“Please,” I plead with her. “Just say something.”

After a minute of silence she says, “I love you, and I hope you can get your shit together. If not for me, then hopefully for the next girl so you don’t fuck her over the same way.”

I sit staring at my floor. I don’t know what to say that will fix this or give her the same hope I feel for us. I do want this. All I’ve ever wanted was her. I just can’t do it right now. It’s not the right time.

I’ve dreamt of marrying this girl, and the idea of us having the wrong timing is terrifying me. It needs to be perfect, and it’s just not right now.

“I’m sorry,” I say finally, my voice thick with emotion as I try not to break down again. “I really am.”

I expect more fight from her considering she wouldn’t back down before.

I don’t get that.

“Goodbye.”

I’m torn between heartbreak, confusion, and anger.

“Goodbye.”

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 25 days

Text

the five stages | f. odair

masterlist

summary: a journey back to a golden period of time of polaroid pictures, white knitted sweaters, and lively sea-green eyes. why? because in the present, those same pair of eyes are ruthlessly unrelenting and you have no other chance of their escape.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: heavy angst, vomiting, implied smut, depression, maggots, hallucinations, relieving fluff, mild horror. I don’t want to spoil the story too much, so I won’t be adding any more warnings, sorry y’all. this could be very triggering so please read at your own discretion. some descriptions are quite graphic!

notes: I’m super proud of this one—it’s sorta based off “little talks” by of monsters and men and “on the nature of daylight” by max richer. this fic probably won’t get many views, so I’ll be incredibly grateful for any—if any at all—type of engagement! <33

word count: 8k

The bedroom was cold; dark; empty. Empty even though I still resided in it.

My alarm had gone off two hours ago, yet I hadn’t moved an inch. When I finally turned my head to the side, I found that the space beside me was vacant. Cold; dark; empty—I reached out my hand anyway.

Thirty minutes passed before I wrestled myself out of bed and started making breakfast downstairs. The otherwise warm and flavourful plate of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast left my mouth feeling dry and my throat lodged.

It used to be one of my favourite meals. At least, when he was around.

Dishes were piled in the sink, dirty and untouched. I sat on the couch, pondering whether today was the day I would finally get to cleaning them. It wasn’t. I couldn’t. We always did that together. I wondered—if I left them in the sink long enough, would he return? Even just for five minutes to help me put them away? One month and seventeen days had passed, and yet I still entertained this thought religiously.

I wasted an hour running circles round the same contemplations before deciding fresh air, as cliché as it was, might do me some good.

Grey clouds concealed the sun’s warm golden light when I stepped outside, but that was fine—I didn’t like anything golden anymore. But he would want me to leave the house at least once a day, so that’s what I would do. I would go down to the beach beside our—my house and feel the sand collect between my toes as I walked to the water’s edge.

But wasn’t that where he was when it happened? Wasn’t he in water? Didn’t those things pile on top of him? Didn’t they sink their fangs into his neck and tear at his flesh until he was blown to…

Bits of egg, yoghurt and stomach bile sat at my feet. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the ground in a sandy, tear-stricken heap. Since my lower body had refused to cooperate any longer, it took me until midday to crawl back up the dune and to my front doorstep.

Fuck. I needed to rest.

“I need you to rest, sweetheart.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I whined. “I’m not sick.”

Finnick placed a bucket on the ground beside the bed. The room smelled of lemon disinfectant—a joy I often found in being sick… That is, if I were sick, which I was not. I must have drunk spoiled milk or eaten something bad during breakfast. Nevertheless, Finnick was not having it.

“You’re throwing up everything you manage to get down, and you’re shivering like it’s the middle of winter,” he said adamantly, tucking the comforter up to my chest. “It’s summer, and you’re very much not fine.”

I sat up, ready to heatedly debate the subject, but the room began swirling, and my ears were hissing like a staticky television channel without a signal. A quiet whimper buzzed in my throat as I hunched forward. Damn him, I was sick.

The mattress dipped as Finnick sat beside me. His hand was on my back, rubbing it soothingly as he used his other hand to tuck away the curtain of hair concealing my face. I huffed, half in annoyance, half in an attempt to suppress the nausea rising in my throat, and then sunk back against the pillows.

“Not sick, she says,” he jested, smiling down at me. I rolled my eyes, though unable to hide the weak, betraying smile creeping across my lips. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he said, a gentle command. “I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

The wooden flooring welcomed me with hard, cold arms as I hauled my sandy body through the front door. Images of fangs, bloody flesh, and panicked sea-green eyes flooded my mind.

More breakfast, more bile. No lemon disinfectant.

My knees were folded beneath my body; my body was hunched over my knees. I was sobbing now, so hard that I threw up again (was there even anything left in my stomach at this point?), creating a thick puddle of vomit and tears beneath me. Cries and gasps for air bounced around the house. To call me a mess would be an understatement. I was a disaster. A disaster wrapped up in an unmendable tragedy with a ragged, threadbare ribbon barely holding me together.

And in case I wasn’t aware of this fact, the floorboards were so shiny that they mirrored a reflection of myself. My hair was a being of its own, all wild and unkempt, and my face was another story entirely—a red, blotchy thing I wasn’t too interested in delving into.

But the most unsettling aspect had nothing to do with me, it was that there was someone else in the reflection. Two green balls of light were glowing above my head.

Dishevelled golden hair…

Dimpled cheeks…

My forehead was pressed to the floor as I screamed.

“I don’t want to make you sick as well,” I said, contrarily enjoying the feeling of Finnick’s skin warm against mine, hot blood flowing through his veins.

A day had passed since I first became unwell, and the sickness had continued to wreak havoc inside me.

We were both under the thick covers, our limbs tangled together as he held me atop his chest. (my body didn’t register the scorching summer temperatures. I actually felt as though my core temperature was a few degrees below freezing. Meanwhile, Finnick was characteristically toasty warm. It was perfect for me, but not so much for him, evident in the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Nevertheless, he made no complaints).

My body rose and fell with each breath he took. I was trying to inhale whenever he exhaled in a weak attempt to prevent the festering sickness in my body from entering his, and though it was a futile gesture, I did it anyway.

“In sickness and health, remember?” he said.

I smiled. “We’re not even married.”

“Yet, you mean,” he countered. “I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, sweetheart. You know that.”

My heart fluttered at the thought of spending an entire lifetime with him—waking up in each other’s embrace each morning, the warm sunlight peeking through the blinds of our bedroom; Finnick calling me “Mrs. Odair” or “My wife” at every opportunity because doing so made us both giggle like two moronic, love-struck teenagers; and being unable to prevent the deep smile lines on both our cheeks as we age, a constant display of our perpetual happiness.

“Sixty more years of having and holding you,” he continued with a gentle musing in his tone. “For better or for worse... For richer or for poorer.” He then stroked the side of my face and brushed away the sweaty strands of hair sticking to my forehead. “In sickness and in health…”

“…Until death do us part,” I finished, my voice slow with fatigue.

Two fingers sat beneath my chin and tilted my head upward. My eyes connected with Finnick’s. They were soft. Heartfelt.

“Not even then. I’ll love you beyond the grave,” he murmured. Then his lips were slowly curving into a pensive smile. “When we’re both ghosts and haunting the next owners of this house.”

I was now smiling, too. “I’d hoped you would say something like that.”

How could he lie like that? There was no we. There were no next owners. There was only me, alive and alone in a comatose house. And mind you, I was sane enough to know that it wasn’t actually his ghost haunting me, though I wish I weren’t because having that knowledge was even worse. It meant he was truly erased from existence.

“Go away,” I whispered to the reflection on the floor.

He didn’t. His vacant green eyes kept staring down at my crumpled figure.

I shot off the floor and spun around, hot tears streaming down my face. “Go away!” His face remained expressionless. He looked like himself, only colder. “You said sixty more years! You said we’d be together!” I mindlessly picked up and flung a small picture frame at him, only for it to pass through his body and shatter on the floor behind him. “Why did you lie to me?!” My voice was frayed with fury, though underlined with grief.

He said nothing, did nothing. All he did was watch.

My legs buckled, and I was on the floor again. I was whispering, half-sobbing, the same question over and over until the words slurred together. “Why’d you lie? Why’d y’lie?” The only time I stopped was when my tongue grew too heavy to move anymore.

To my surprise, he eventually came and sat beside me, remaining cold and silent—as I too had become.

Glass fragments from the picture frame were scattered across the floorboards. The photo within had fallen out and, ironically, drifted towards me. I didn’t bother acknowledging him as I moved onto my hands and knees and began crawling forward—my palms slicing open and blood seeping out—until the photo was in my hands. My shins had granules of glass pricking into them, but I couldn’t feel the pain; all I could do was stare at the memory in my hands.

The picture had been taken in District Thirteen, a day before he signed up for… the mission.

I was drifting in and out of sleep when a sudden bright flash lit up my eyelids.

“Oops.”

Heavy eyes fluttering open, I was met with a small camera pointing down at me, which was being held up by a lengthy muscular arm, which was connected to an even more muscular and broad shoulder, which was connected to—okay, sorry, I think you get it.

“Finnick!” I shrieked, pulling the covers over my naked figure.

He laughed, the vibrations rumbling deep within his chest, beneath my ear. A soft whirring sound accompanied the polaroid sliding out of the camera, its black film hiding the doubtless embarrassing picture beneath. He placed the film on the sheets beside him, letting the photo develop in darkness.

“I was supposed to cover the flash,” he said, still chuckling.

I rubbed my eyes, which were twinkling with little sparkles of light. “I think you blinded me.”

“Lucky you,” he jested. “You’re finally free from my repulsive exterior.”

I started to reach for the picture beside him—“You’re an idiot”—but then he was rolling us over until his arms were pillared on either side of my head and he was hovering above me.

His hair was a mess, a testament to the night before (and very early hours of the morning), and he was sporting a beautiful, lazy grin. “Yeah? Well, you’re engaged to an idiot,” he said, tilting his head in an arrogant manner. “So what does that make you?”

The sea-glass ring hugging my finger gleamed in the lamp’s dull light as I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips brushing along the edges of his pronounced jawline. Tangled strands of hair and a beaming smile were reflecting back at me in his eyes. No one had ever loved anyone as much as I loved Finnick—disregarding the one exception that was staring down at me.

“Blinded by love,” I whispered.

Brief yet poignant emotion trickled through his features, his eyes. Then, like a flick of a switch, he covered it up and lowered his face into my neck, groaning the words, “So corny.”

My fingers were tangled in his hair, holding him close to me. “Liar,” I laughed. “You loved it.”

“I love you, which is why I put up with your corniness,” he murmured into my skin.

Even after all this time, my heart still leapt whenever he said those three words, even when he was being a jerk about it. I kissed the top of his head. “I love you, too.”

We laid like this for a short while longer—Finnick keeping his face buried in the warmth of my neck, his arms curled beneath my body; me playing with the golden waves of his hair that were somehow softer than my own. He was so heavy on top of me that it was starting to become difficult to breathe, but in no universe would I ever tell him to get off. It was a blissful sort of suffocation.

A sort anyone would snap a picture of just to keep as a reminder of how beautiful it feels to be smothered with love. With that being said, the picture that lay awaiting beside me was brought back to mind.

“Oh no,” I moaned, picking it up and taking a short glance at the developed photo. I covered my face with my hands, repeating the words, “Oh no.”

The photo was plucked from my fingers, and Finnick began humming contentedly to himself.

In the photo, my face had been nuzzled into his bare, muscular chest, eyes closed in sleep-drunken serenity, hair thrown over my shoulder and spilling across the pillow. My hand rested on his contoured stomach with just enough of my upper arm and low light to conceal my breasts. Finnick had a delicate hand draped over my waist. He was gazing down at me with a smile that was just… full of pure love.

I had to admit—it was a beautiful picture. Despite my initial disapproval.

“Beautiful,” I heard him echo my thoughts, his eyes still scanning the photo. Then his brows furrowed, and his head slightly inched forward as though he had just noticed something peculiar in the picture. “Oh, and you are too, I guess.”

My head tilted back against the pillow with an abrupt laugh. I shook my head, looking back at him. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he said, leaning in closer.

His lips were on mine for what must have been the millionth time in the past few hours. The bedside clock announced that breakfast was soon approaching, though it was clear neither of us would make an appearance within the next hour (or two).

“You love me,” he whispered as he slid inside me.

And I did.

I really did.

The muscles in my cheeks were straining due to how hard I was smiling.

It wasn’t my idea to keep a picture of us half-naked in the entryway of our home. He always was a bit unusual like that. Completely unashamed of who he was and how he acted. Sometimes a little too boisterously, but that’s what I loved so much about him—how confident he was in his love for me, so much so that nothing else mattered, no one else’s opinion.

God, I love him so much.

Love…?

Wait.

That’s not right.

Shouldn’t it be “loved”?

And why was I smiling? I didn’t have anything to smile about anymore. He was gone. Our wedding never occurred. Our faces never wrinkled with smile lines. Our clasped hands never weathered with age. He was gone.

The polaroid slipped from between my fingers. My hands were covered in glass and blood, blood that had painted a dark red splotch in the middle of the shiny film. Figures.

After a short while of staring blankly at the scattered debris decorating the floor, I finally found it in myself to start climbing back onto my feet. My straightened legs wobbled and ached beneath me with the little energy I had. That’s what happens when you can barely stomach food anymore: no energy, always sleeping, always swamped by nightmares or bittersweet memories—at this point, they were one and the same.

Not a strand of gold or a fleck of green was in sight when I glanced over my shoulder. For now, at least. He liked making an appearance once or twice a day.

Pieces of glass crunched beneath my bare, stinging feet as I made for the stairwell. A mess for another day, I reasoned. Just like the dishes. Sticky red footprints stamped each wooden step I ascended, growing less prominent as I reached the second floor.

After taking a right down a short hallway, the encompassing walls littered with magnificent seashells and dried ocean flora, I turned the knob to the furthest room and entered. The floor was landscaped with mountains of clothes which drenched the room in a familiar, all-consuming smell. The scent kind of reminded me of receiving a warm hug, albeit from someone you know you should let go of in more ways than one.

His hair, golden and tousled, caught my eye as I passed the wall of string-hung polaroids in our… sorry, my bedroom. His smile was all dimpled and brilliant, and he had his tanned arms wrapped around my middle. Just moments after the picture was taken, he had tackled me into the water and rightfully earned a smack on the back of the head. In turn, he did it again.

But before that, we were both looking into the camera with the most joyful expressions—huge grins, bright eyes. Frozen in time.

I never let myself look too long at that picture anymore. And I never, ever looked into his eyes. Green used to be my favourite colour. I didn’t have a favourite colour anymore. It was safe to say I didn’t have a favourite anything anymore; everything favourable was a reminder of him.

I picked up a white knitted sweater off the ground and tugged it over my head, staining it with splotches of dark red. Knowing him, he would wear it regardless—whatever was mine, was also his, and was equally the same in reverse, even things as grotesque as blood.

Well, he would have worn it, I should have said.

The sweater had been specifically tailored for him. I remembered how the soft sleeves hugged his arms so well that every fluid curve of his biceps was visible, similar to a building wave before it crested. On me, the sleeves swallowed my arms whole, which I liked to think in their own unique way had also been unintentionally tailored for me, like someone out there knew one day I would need some way to drown in him when he was gone.

Finnick’s fingers tugged at the silk ribbons, unwrapping the opulent gift box that sat on our dining table. Capitol devotees would send extravagant parcels weekly, turning up in abundance on our doorstep. Sometimes Finnick didn’t even bother opening them; sometimes we opened them together just to get a good laugh out of whatever ridiculous item was inside.

He never, though, opened the perfume-scented letters marked with lipstick stains.

“Oh,” I said in surprise as he lifted the lid. Inside was a folded piece of fabric, knitted and cream-white and intricate, though still simple. It was soft to the touch; thick enough to retain warmth. I held it up with two hands, admiring the hand-sewed threads of cotton. Whoever’s handiwork this was, it was nothing to laugh at.

Holding it up to Finnick’s torso, I smiled and said, “Try it on.”

“What?” He shook his head and smiled quizzically. “No.”

“Yes. I think it will look good on you.” I pressed it further against him with conviction. “Try it on.”

He tilted his head and exhaled deeply through his nose, giving me a begrudging, squinty-eyed look. From that, I already knew I had won him over, and watched as he snatched the sweater from my grasp and tugged his shirt off with one hand. I averted my eyes, feeling the tips of my ears flush with heat—we’d been together for over a year now; you would think I’d have grown accustomed to seeing him shirtless.

His head slipped through the neckline and he pulled the sweater down his body. I was right. It looked really good on him. Perfect, actually. The measurements were so precise that the fabric sloped off his shoulders like a compact mountain of snow. The thick-knitted collar dipped into a deep, uneven neckline that partly revealed his chest and made his neck look like a strong, contoured pillar. He looked at me expectantly, as though to ask, “Well?”

“It makes your neck and shoulders look really nice,” I blurted out, instantly cringing inside.

His expression contorted into something of amusement and surprise as he took a slow step towards me. “My neck and shoulders, huh?” he said, grinning devilishly. Oh, now I’d done it. Leave it to me to rocket Finnick Odair’s already atmospheric ego. “Anything else?”

I began backing away, but his prowling strides were so long that the space between us only shortened. When my backside hit the edge of the dining table, I knew I was done for.

“You know,” I began, avoiding his unrelenting stare. “I think it was just a momentary lapse of judgement.” He was closing in now, placing his hands on either side of my body to trap me in place. “It—It actually looks terrible on you,” I said, feigning sincerity and adding a little nod to help further my case.

His eyelids drooped as he gazed down at me, lips curving into that seductive smirk he had mastered long ago. “No takebacks,” he purred, voice low and gravelly. Dear God, I could only pray I wasn’t going to melt into a puddle on the floor. He always did this—took every opportunity to flirt and render me a stuttering, bashful mess. It was his favourite game to play. “This is now my new favourite shirt. All thanks to you, sweetheart.”

But, given the right timing and ever-wavering amount of confidence, I liked to play too.

I inhaled deeply, hoping my voice wouldn’t betray me. “Maybe you should take it off then,” I said, cocking my head to the side. “So you don’t ruin it.”

His mischievous expression revealed his next words before he even spoke them. “Maybe I will,” he said, and then he was tugging his sweater over his head, and I was tearing off my own. As his hands slipped beneath my thighs and lifted me onto our dining table, I prayed the wooden legs wouldn’t collapse under the weight of our next actions.

My fingertips ran over the soft, rippling patterns on the knitted sleeves, my arms crossed in a self-soothing manner. After that day, the sweater had become a sort of good luck charm—or so we agreed upon as we lay panting on the tabletop. He started wearing it to a multitude of events and parties in the Capitol (basically any place in which he needed a pick-me-up, a reminder of what he had to come home to, who he had to come home to).

He even wore it the day we got engaged.

So many happy memories were associated with this one white sweater. So many times, those cloud-soft sleeves were wrapped around my body, suffocating me in the scent of him—if nothing else, at least that remained.

The last time he had worn it was the day of the Reaping for the Quarter Quell; the last time our lives were ever semi-normal. I had fought tooth and nail to reach him before he was escorted onto the train, despite being ordered, “No goodbyes,” by one of the Peacekeepers. In modest terms, I had significantly decreased his chances of reproduction.

When I reached Finnick, he had brought me into a kiss so harsh and fervent that my lips were bruised the next day. He then yanked off his sweater, leaving his upper body completely exposed to everyone around us in complete disregard for his trauma-induced fear of doing so, and shoved it into my hands.

I had just stood there frozen in bewilderment, watching as he called out, “I love you, sweetheart!” Two Peacekeepers were forcing him onto the train, but he too fought for the last word. “Don’t forget—I’m always with you!”

That statement had never been truer than it was now. For better or for worse.

My vision unblurred as I returned to reality. Dismal, grey light was peeking through the shutters that formed the balcony doors, the daylight hours seeming to tick away at a snail’s pace. I used to wish for the days to be longer, for time to move slower, so I could savour the moments I had of happiness and sunlight which used to be plentiful.

Why do wishes only come true when you grow to desire nothing but the opposite?

Slothfully, I crawled onto the unmade king-size bed, my limbs crumpling and balling to my chest as the side of my head hit the pillow. The imprint on the mattress beneath my body didn’t match my own. It was much larger and broader. How long would it take for the springs to forget his body weight and recoil back into place as though he never existed at all?

I inhaled the sweater’s scent with every breath I took (and I tried not to wonder how long it would take for his scent to disappear as well) and hugged my arms around my waist. No pain was worse than the fleeting moments I forgot the embrace was my own and not his.

Hours passed, and so did the evening. A beautiful orange sunset hadn’t slipped through the shutter’s cracks because the clouds never dissipated. Night-time brought no consolation either. Not even the stars or moon made an appearance. Everything that once gave me a shred of optimism was hidden behind a veil of gloom.

I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be any different—the weather, my mood, his absence. Because the end of autumn was closing in, and the days were becoming bleaker. Trees would start shedding their leaves; the leaves would start to die.

I hoped I would too.

I was still curled up on my side, my body aching with stiffness, when my face began scrunching into this ugly, twisted mess of despair. My tears were slow yet heavy, synonymous with the day I had incurred.

But then something strange happened.

Someone called my name.

No. That couldn’t be right. I was the only one who occupied a house in the Victor’s Village; the others had either relocated after the war or were… dead.

But there it was again—my name, distant and eerie, yet spoken with a tone people often used to beckon over and aid a frightened, injured animal. My vision blurred, both from tears and concentration on the voice.

“Hey.”

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment my surroundings transformed into a kitchen, just that they had and that I was no longer in my bed but standing upright.

Ahead of me, in the distance, the sun was beating down on the crystalline water, and white frothy waves were cresting on the smooth, golden sand. It was a perfect day; not a cloud was in sight. The only blemish that smeared the blue sky was the reflection staring back at me from the window I gazed out of.

In my hands was a soup bowl and a damp dishrag.

“Sweetheart?” That once distant voice, concerned and beckoning, was standing right beside me.

Blinking, I snapped out of my daze and turned away from the window.

He stood tall beside me, despite being half hunched over the kitchen sink and scrubbing the last of the few dirty dishes stacked neatly on the bench top. His head was turned towards me, his enamoured sea-green eyes peering into my own as though he was searching behind them for what troubled me.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, standing up straight. His touch was warm and gentle as he reached for my hand, leaving soapy bubbles on my palm and fingers. “Where’d you go?”

Three odd things seemed to occur at once: first, I flinched away from his touch, overwhelmed by its paradoxical unfamiliar familiarity; second, I felt an inexpressible relief from seeing him standing before me, seeing his cheeks painted with a soft pink hue as though blood-red roses were hidden just beneath his skin.

The third was an onset of disorientation. I couldn’t tell you why I felt disorientated standing in my own kitchen with the love of my life, just, simply, that I did. There was an answer—it was close by, right under my nose, yet unreachable. We did this every day, didn’t we? We would eat meals together and then wash up together. So, why did I feel so unsettled?

I shook my head, dispelling the confusion that muddled my brain. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what happened.” I laughed uneasily, without a hint of mirth.

He laughed too, not to poke fun or because he found my obvious turmoil amusing, but rather to comfort me, so I would feel less alone in my unease. “It’s alright,” he said gently.

Neither of us addressed what had happened; we simply resumed our routine of washing and drying in domestic silence. And as seconds turned to minutes, and as the sky remained sunny, I found myself smiling. All that mattered was that he was standing beside me and that the sun was beaming in the sky. So, I kept smiling.

After I finished drying the last dish, we began placing the plates, bowls, and an abundance of cutlery in their assigned drawers and cupboards, weaving past each other and giggling anytime we got in one another’s path. I was carrying a stack of white plates, eyeing the high cupboard they needed to go in, but before I could even attempt straining onto my toes, the plates were out of my hands and taken into another much larger pair.

The smell of sea salt and expensive cologne wafted from behind me as he towered over my shorter frame and placed the plates in the cupboard.

“I could have done that,” I said, smiling as I turned around to face him.

He had a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, right. What are you, like, four feet tall?” he joked.

It was an extreme exaggeration since I was no way near that height, but I suppose everyone was miniature in comparison to him, being over six feet tall and all. I feigned open-mouthed offence, to which he gave the side of my head a quick, playful kiss of apology.

He then leaned against the counter with crossed arms. “Plus, when was the last time you actually put these dishes away? I’m surprised you even remember where they go.” He was grinning at me in a teasing manner, but every ounce of humour had drained from my body.

My eyes drifted to the floor.

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it—when was the last time I put the dishes away?

I couldn’t remember. In fact, I couldn’t remember what had happened this morning or the day before. Hell, I couldn’t even remember what we were doing before the dishes.

To be standing in a room, in a place you call home, and have a sense that nothing is in its right place, even though that is where everything has always been, is a disconcerting feeling beyond belief. To be perplexed by your own state of being—your existence—is even worse. I could almost describe it as a nauseating bout of vertigo.

My hands found the counter’s edge behind me, and I exhaled a shaky breath.

He stepped in front of me, one large and gentle hand reaching up to cup my jaw. “Are you okay?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling with shallow worry lines as he inspected my face. I hated that. I hated that I worried him so much. Sure, partners were supposed to lean on each other for support in a relationship (as he too did with me when needed), but I always felt so guilty doing so. Hadn’t he already suffered enough… pain in his lifetime? Who was I to cause him any more?

A sunbeam suffused the room, oozing across his face. The illumination lightened his eyes into a refreshing mint green, though, in contradiction, unearthed a pain that had been previously been concealed. Pain from what, I wasn’t sure. From concern regarding my unusual behaviour? Maybe a thought that was troubling him? Or perhaps he too was enduring a spell of confusion and had an inexplicable feeling that he was out of place.

Whatever his pain regarded, seeing it had rattled the deepest structures in which held my mind together.

It was then that I suddenly realised I hadn’t answered his question, so I gave him a wan “I’m-not-too-sure-myself” smile and then began slinking back to the sink window.

He followed behind me. I could feel him staring into the back of my head, could feel his brows draw together and his lips pull into a tight line, patiently waiting for a further explanation, though I wasn’t sure I could offer him one.

I hadn’t noticed before, but on the windowsill was a small picture frame containing a polaroid picture of us in bed—I was lying on his chest, half-naked and asleep, and he was looking down at me, smiling fondly yet with a sort of mischievous knowability. Running down the middle of the protective glass was a small, jagged crack.

I plucked the frame from the windowsill, inspecting the picture in my two hands. It seemed to uncover a place in my mind—once clouded by disorientation—I’d forgotten. Whether this place was real or imaginary was beyond me, but the fear I felt upon its recollection was incandescently genuine.

“Do you think,” I spoke tentatively, “people can have nightmares while they’re wide awake?” My thumb ran over the crack.

I might have heard him inhale a quiet, sharp breath, but it also could have just been the waves breaking on the distant shore. “Like a flashback?” he asked, an unidentifiable unease in his tone.

“No, not exactly.” I searched my brain for the right words, the right way to tell him how I was feeling, but it was difficult when I could only conjure vague fragments. And it was all I could do to tell it to him elliptically, as I knew saying the words in any other manner would shatter my heart.

“I had this vision,” I began, my words apprehensively staccato, “where I was somewhere else.” My eyes flickered over the picture. “Somewhere… bad. Everything was grey and heavy, and I was alone. Sometimes you were there, but you—you weren’t really you anymore.” I paused and looked up to find him staring at me in the reflection of the window. He looked pained; it was then suddenly hard to recollect a time when he didn’t. My throat started to constrict. “You were gone and…” my voice quietened to a broken wisp of wind, “you were haunting me.”

The room was silent.

He said nothing in response

The transparency of his reflection in the glass was so familiar—so haunting—and it was like another forgotten matter had been dredged from the depths of my mind. Stinging tears brimmed my waterline, and, due to my inability to bear the sight of his translucent appearance, I forced myself to turn around.

I glanced up at him, smiling weakly as I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head as if my need to apologise was nonsensical (even I was unsure of what I was apologising for), and he then pulled me into a tight embrace. His chin rested atop my head; my face was buried in his chest, and his arms held me like I was some dilapidated structure that relied on his support to remain upright. Part of me knew this sentiment was correct.

I expected his next words to be ones of consolation or reassurance, maybe an “I’m right here, sweetheart” or an “I’ll never leave you”. Instead, I felt his head turn and heard him say, “Think it’s going to storm?”

With a sniffle, I turned my head towards the window. The arms wrapped around my body tightened as if he somehow knew I would need the extra support. Because when I saw the wall of dark, opaque clouds rolling through the sky towards us, an unshakeable dread zapped through my heart.

My hands clung to the fabric of his cream-white sweater, which then brought to my attention that an inexplicable tingling sensation was spreading down the fingers of my right hand, numbing them.

Lightning flashed on the horizon, and the once serene waves began cresting violently on the shoreline. The dread grew.

Before my attention could drift too far, my name was called again.

I looked up to find those green eyes gazing down at me, swelling with tears. He was crying. Why was he crying? And why was his hair wet? His usually golden strands had darkened to a deep brown and were drenched with cold water that dripped onto my cheeks, and his hair was swept haphazardly across his forehead, a reflection of someone who had just endured an intense storm or had just been fighting for his life against a swarm of—of—

No.

My own eyes began to burn.

“It’s killing me to see you this way,” he spoke, every second word breaking and wavering in volume.

The world seemed to tilt on an axis. Return did the disorientation, ravaging my mind more violently now. “What do you”—My chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths—“What? What do you mean?” My lower lip was quivering, and my eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. His words replayed in my head: It’s killing me to see you this way.

It’s killing me.

His hair was dripping—no longer with water, but with a thick, red substance that both dripped down and clotted on his skin. He didn’t look pained anymore; he looked like he was in pain.

It’s killing me.

But that can’t be right, can it?

It’s killing me.

Why?

It’s killing me.

Becausemy Finnickwas already dead.

I staggered backwards and out of his, no, this imposter’s arms. He stared at me as blood streamed down his forehead, pouring over his eyelashes and down his cheeks. I was going to be sick. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a newly invented punishment from Snow. But that wasn’t right either: Snow was dead too.

“F…Fi…” I tried saying his name, my top teeth prodding the inside of my bottom lip, but I couldn’t make a sound.

He took a step towards me, and I almost stumbled onto the floor. “Remember what I told you?” he asked, though it sounded more like an urge.

I frantically shook my head. No, I didn’t remember. I didn’t want to remember anything.

Something dark and mountainous appeared in my peripheral vision, and an odious smell singed my nostrils. My head snapped to the left. Stacks upon stacks of plates and bowls mounded the kitchen sink, each crawling with maggots that were falling to the floor in white, wriggling heaps.

Nausea boiled in my stomach; horror brimmed my eyes.

I quickly turned away, my eyes meeting green again. His face was no longer stained with blood, and his hair was dry, shiny, and golden with life. I was as speechless as my face was drained of blood.

He took one more step toward me, but this time I didn’t back away, either frozen with fear or desperation for one last experience of closeness with him. My heart thrummed as he reached out to cup my face. It isn’t him, it isn’t him, it isn’t him, I repeated madly in my head. Oh, but it felt so much like him when his warm hand met my skin.

“I told you I’m always with you, sweetheart,” he murmured. And I knew engaging with him, in whatever form he took, affirmed my mental unwellness, but I couldn’t stop from leaning into his touch anyway. “Remember that.”

My cheeks were wet with tears. “I love—”

A bolt of lightning flashed, and thunder boomed throughout the house.

I was back in my bed.

My eyelids were heavy with sleep as they fluttered open. I felt detached, destabilised, and unsure of my existence in the world for I wasn’t sure which of the twoI was currently in. Real or fake?

A few minutes went by before I managed to get a grip on reality, which, in fact, was the real one. The Somewhere Bad. I pinched the corners of my eyes, not only finding them damp with fresh tears but also realising that my right hand—previously tucked beneath my head—was numb.

None of it had been real…

The entire time, my body was trying to alert me, to save me from the inescapable heartache I would feel upon waking. He hadn’t held me in his arms. He hadn’t cupped my cheek nor helped me wash the dishes. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere (not even in his own marked grave because there was nothing left of him to be buried).

Even despite seeing the familiar tall outline standing in the doorway, his features illuminated with each flash of lightning, I knew it wasn’t really him.

Rain was pummelling the roof, almost loud enough to subdue the perpetual rumbling of thunder (apart from the one sky-splitting thunderclap that had woken me). In another time, I would’ve been scared—of the raging storm, of my phantom lover who was watching from the shadows of our bedroom. But not now.

In recent months, I had found that no emotion, not even fear, surpassed the soul-crushing realisation that you have irretrievably lost the one thing you lived for.

On a defeated whim, and for the first time since his death, I let the singular, weighted word breeze past my lips.

“Finnick.”

It was a trembling plea, a desperate beckon.

And he indulged.

His footsteps were silent as he walked towards the bed. I couldn’t see his legs from my position, prompting me to wonder if he even had legs at all. Or did he only have legs when I could see them? That would then insinuate that if I couldn’t see him at all, he didn’t exist.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? In my case, the answer was simple: no, it didn’t.

It wasn’t really Finnick. It wasn’t even his ghost. It was my mind.

He reached the bed’s edge, and I scooted over to my side of the mattress, allowing him enough space to lie down on his. His weight neither dipped nor shook the bed as he laid down and turned on his side to face me. His eyes were sad, and I’m sure mine were too. We stared at each other for a long, long time, long enough for my fatigued body to start playing tricks on me.

If I focused hard enough, I thought I could hear the sound of his breathing (the wind was picking up outside), feel the warmth of his skin spreading onto the sheets (the remnants of my own body heat were left behind each time I moved), and smell the musky scent of cologne and sea-salted hair (the sleeves of his sweater were tucked beneath my nose).

Maybe for a moment—just one sickly, self-indulgent moment—I could pretend it was really him.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you would haunt the next owner of this house,” I whispered as light-heartedly as I could, my voice obscured by the heavy rain pouring onto the roof.

He smiled, and it was one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful things I had ever seen. I think I might have given him one in return, though I couldn’t be too sure because the concept of smiling had become so foreign. The last time I was truly happy was… the last night we spent together. In each other’s arms, safe and warm and together.

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Cressida, whom I had only spoken to once in Thirteen when the war ended, was the one to tell me how it happened. Katniss was too personal, too close to him; Peeta’s instability rendered conversation futile. So, I had asked Cressida to tell me every detail—every expression on his face, every word he screamed. I don’t know why. Maybe it was so I could cling onto those last few minutes where he was still alive and breathing, despite dying and bleeding; or so I could replay the moment over and over in my head, as if somehow, someway, I could change his fate.

“He talked about you all the time,” she had told me. “Actually, I don’t think he ever spoke of anything but you. No one minded, though. While we were out there, no one ever really smiled, but every time your name was mentioned, Finnick would get this great big grin on his face, and it was impossible not to look at him and start smiling as well.

So, we all started asking questions about you: ‘What colour is her hair? Her eyes? Where did you meet? What are her hobbies?’—just to see him smile… A week passed, and it was like we all knew you inside out. It was all we could do to hang on to some shred of happiness, even if it meant talking about a girl who, to all of us, was a stranger.”

I was inconsolable after that.

She kept talking, but my sobs had drowned out most of her words, so much that I had asked her to retell me everything later in the day, despite inducing the same outcome. So, she told it to me again, just as she did the day after that and the day after that and so on until I returned home to District Four.

“He also spoke about how you never felt comfortable living in the Victors Village. He had this idea that the two of you would move somewhere far away, outside the borders of District Four, though he emphasised remaining by the sea was very important—something about how you looked while swimming during sunset and the water was all sparkly around you.”

At this point, she had been holding my hand, knowing full well how debilitating it was for me to hear. Then she had spoken with a quiet incredulity and a facial expression to match, as though she’d never encountered a love like ours before. “He wanted to build a house for you…”

He wanted to build a house for you.

And now he never would. Our love was too ephemeral for that to happen; destined to remain history; to be a memory.

Finnick's eyes stared into mine, the green hue now a dark grey from the overshadowing dimness of the room.

“I would’ve gone anywhere with you,” I whispered to him, placing my hand on the sheets between us. “I would’ve travelled thousands of miles away from this place. Would’ve lived in solitary, just the two of us, for the rest of our lives.” A warm tear tickled the bridge of my nose. His eyebrows scrunched together in shared anguish. “God, Finn, I miss you,” my voice broke. “I miss you so much.”

I contemplated crying, sobbing, screaming, or begging for him to come back, but I was just too tired. All my energy had been spent on grievance throughout the following day, and my eyes were growing heavier by the second as my body was sinking further into a state of relaxation.

Between slow blinks, I watched Finnick’s large hand move to rest atop my own, and at that point, I knew sleep would soon catch me because I swear I could feel his warm touch.

Images flashed through my mind—incomprehensible and melting together, yet somehow still graspable.

Sky blue water rippling with calm waves, the surface glittering in the setting sun. A white stonewall cottage fronted by soft, white sand and tall palm trees. Two plates of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast. Three pairs of footprints in the sand, one larger, one smaller, and another between them so delicately tiny I could fit them into the palm of my hand.

Sea-green eyes above me. Golden hair tangled between my fingers. Finnick standing in the wooden doorway of our white stonewall cottage wearing a cream-white sweater and rolled-up slacks. Finnick grinning deeply and then throwing his head back with laughter. Finnick standing in front of our bed, taking my hand in his and guiding me towards him. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick.

Finnick holding our child.

I was between worlds now, both indistinguishable from the other. My eyelids were drooping, and I was quickly growing insensate. Just before my eyes closed completely, I saw Finnick’s—he who wasn’t really my Finnick—lips move. It wasn’t in my bleak reality in which I heard him speak, but rather in my mind, and God, did his words offer the sweetest relief.

“I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

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lovingmattysposts · 5 months

Text

My Best Friend’s Brother

P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12

pairing: y/n and Chris sturniolo

alright guys this is my first post so treat it nicely, but this is only the first part so let me know if you want the next part :)

Summary: You & Nick have been best friends forever. There was nothing you couldn’t tell him. You move in for a little while after something bad goes down in your own home, but that means living with his brothers. One brother you got along with, the other not so much….

warnings!! Mentions of a toxic, abusive household, cursing, mentions of not eating well, puking, mention of anxiety and depression

no smut yet…

Pain. Pain and suffering. Something I was born from and have lived to deal with my entire life. Sometimes I thought I was at my very worst. I would think to myself, there is nothing worse than this. The pain corsating through my entire body when my parents would scream at me. Or when my father would throw things at me and my mom turned a blind eye. I would stare up in my bedroom wishing for it to all go away. The pain at least.

I thought that one day the pain would just go away, that I would eventually end up numb. But when they day came, it didn't. The pain was still there, just as it was before. Just the reaction was numb, at least the aftermath. Back then, my childhood filled with not toys and cherished memories, but hiding, screaming, fighting and holding my teddy bear wondering why my parents didn't love me the way they were suppose to. The way my friends parents loved them. All the trips to Disney land I never got, all of the empty presents under the tree, the forgotten birthdays, they still weren't the worst of it.

This was.

I blinked my eyes up towards the stars, still silent. The only sounds between us were the chirping of crickets. Crickets who probably had parents that cared about them more than I did. I swallowed as I watched a plane pass over us silently. Silence killed some people, but not me. Sometimes it was the only peace I ever got. Silence meant good. It meant everything was calm. Everything was okay. I craved silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Nick whispered beside me after a few minutes. I blinked at the sky, not turning towards him. Nick was my best friend. There was nothing I couldn't talk to Nick about. He was always there for me even when I would just sit in silence, he would just be there. He would always be there. He's the greatest best friend of all best friends in the world.

Nick sat up peering down at me as I glanced from the sky to him.

"How are you feeling?" He asked softly. I still hadn't cried. That was the scariest part of it all. Usually my emotions would take over me. Hitting me with the hardest gust of wind, like a truck. But this time it didn't. I was numb. I waited for the reaction, the emotions to come, but it hadn't yet. I was starting to think it would never come.

"Numb" I said quietly. Nick frowned at me and brushed a piece of hair behind my ear. "I'm always going to be here y/n. I promise" He smiled. I just looked at him. I sat up looking down at my hands.

"I feel like I should be happy right?" I said looking up at him. He just listened. "But I'm not" I shook my head. I wish I could pinpoint how i was feeling but I couldn't and I hated it. I sighed. "He's still my dad" I breathed. Nick nodded. Nick knew everything about my family history. I told him everything. He was the first one I called after it happened. He picked me up and we drove where we always came to think. Lincoln Park.

I loved it here, because it was quite. No loud noises. No screaming, no fighting, just good memories. One of the last places for me that only held the good memories.

"Did you tell Matt and Chris where you were going?" I asked looking at him. He nodded. He never lied to his brothers and I admired that, but it doesn't mean I want them to know. I looked down. "I didn't give them any details, I just said that it was your dad and that you needed me" He said looking at me, clearing my mind. I nodded.

Matt and Chris were Nick's brothers. He's one of three. They are triplets. A bond that could never be broken. I wish I had some family like that. I liked them enough. I liked Matt, he was quite, but nice. Chris was harder to get along with. We are both strong headed people with lots of opinions so we tended to butt heads a lot. I wouldn't consider them my friends, but they were Nick's brothers. They had a part of Nick in them, which made me care for them.

"A part of me wishes he would have done this when I was born, like he threatened" I breathed, feeling like everything inside of me was coming out. "But a part of me knows that If he did my mom would have hated me and blamed me my whole childhood for him leaving, like she's doing now" I said shaking my head thinking about it. Nick reached over and put his hand on my leg.

"It's not your fault y/n. Your dad sucked. It was him, all him. Not you" Nick said making me look up at him. I swallowed and looked down wanting to believe him, and a part of me did, but a part of me will always relive those words he said to me tonight.

"I just don't know if it would have hurt less to never had known him. To have him never know me." I sighed and looked up. "But he did know me" I said looking at Nick. He had a sad expression posted on his face. "And he still wanted to leave" I whispered. Still no tears. Still numb.

"Y/n I don't think I could ever live without you" Nick said, I saw tears brimming his eyes. "You mean so fucking much to me" He said letting a tear fall. I smiled sadly. "Your dad is an idiot" He said shaking his head. "Such an idiot" He smiled at me. I smiled and pulled Nick into a hug and he wrapped his arms around me and we sat there for a minute, just holding each other.

"You can stay with me, you know" He said as he laid his head against me. I stayed silent. "My mom would love to have you. We have an extra guest bedroom you can stay in, and if you don't want to be alone you can just sleep in my bed" He said soothingly. I smiled at his offer. As much as I wanted to take it and run, I knew I shouldn't. I didn't want to leave my mom alone, afraid she would hate me even more than she does right now. Plus his mom already had to deal with raising three teenage boys. She doesn't need me and my problems on top of all of that.

"Thank you Nick, but I can't. I can't leave my mom" I whispered as Nick pulled back to look at me. He nodded. "My door is always open. You can change your mind and stay as long as you need" He smiled at me and I nodded.

"Nick" I said grabbing his attention again. He looked at me waiting for me to continue. "Can you do me a favor?" I asked quietly. He nodded not breaking eye contact. "Tomorrow" I started looking at him. "Will you just pretend that none of this happened? I don't want your pity or anyone else's." I sighed looking down. "I don't want you to treat me any differently. I don't want you to feel like you have to walk on eggshells around me" I said making him smile.

"If you think my hair looks ratty, I want you to tell me and make a joke. If I stutter I want you to call me out like you always do" I laughed, making him laugh. "I just don't want this to change our dynamic. I don't want you to look at me like the girl who needs fixing. I've been dealing with this my whole life, nothing changed. He just left that's it" I said shaking my head. Nick placed his hand over mine.

"If that's what you want" He stated. I nodded smiling at him. "You sure you want to go back?" He asked looking at me. I hesitated before nodding slowly. He nodded starting to stand. "I'll buy you ice cream on the way come on" He said helping me up. I smiled and took his hand.

"Thank you, Nick" I smiled and he pulled my hand as we walked to the car.

I stood in front of the door to my house. My hand shaking as it gripped the handle. God y/n stop being a baby, walk in. I swallowed before turning the handle. As I walked in I could almost see the scene that unfolded in front of me just a few hours ago. I let out a shaky breath the memories flooding into my brain creating the imagine. I swallowed, before turning and closing the door. I walked a few steps before seeing my mother sitting at the kitchen table looking down at her hands. She didn't acknowledge my presence.

"Mom?" I asked quietly. She didn't even look up. I bit my lip looking towards the stairs. Just walk up the stairs. No. I at least had to make sure she was okay. I took a deep breath before walking up to her. I swallowed.

"Mom?" I asked again looking down at her. She still didn't look up at me, her eyes glued to the table. I gripped my hands together, looking around. Anxiety spiking through my body. "Mom can you please talk to me?" I asked her. She had a lot to say earlier. I wasn't expecting her to be quiet.

I looked at the empty chair next to her. I sat down slowly. "Mom I know this is hard for you, but maybe this is for the better you know?" I said my hands shaking. "Y-You know dad he was really angry and-" I started to say but was cut off.

"Don't" She spat quickly. I looked up at her. "Your father was a good man. You will not speak down on him" She said glaring at me. I furrowed my eyebrows at her. Surely we couldn't have been speaking about the same man. Not the one from my childhood.

I tapped my fingers on the table in front of me. "Mom I just don't want you to hate me" I mumbled quietly. Silence again. I looked up at her. "I-I did this for you. For us. I wanted better I just wanted to feel-" I attempted to explain but she stood up violently.

"For me? You did this for me?" She said glaring down at me. "You are the most selfish kid i've ever seen in my life! You drove your dad away after 18 years of marriage for me?" She screamed at me. "18 years of hell. Hell for the both of us and you know it!" I stood up screaming back.

"He was a drunk! He hit you! He threw shit at me! I was trying to save us! I was trying to protect myself like you never did for me!" I yelled at her. She pursed her lips as she looked at me.

"Out" She said looking at me. "I want you out of my house" She said looking down. I felt my heart fall. As much as I wanted to accept her request and run to Nick's, she was still my family. The only family I had left. "Mom please-" I breathed. She just glared at me.

"We only have each other. You can't do this" I shook my head. She swallowed and shook her head. "This was your fault y/n. Yours. Not mine. My whole life-" She stopped closing her eyes. "My whole life, it was you" She pointed at me. I backed up, hardening my face towards her.

"Why do you think he started drinking in the first place" She shook her head. I bit my lip and shook my head. "This is not my fault" I said through gritted teeth. She nodded. "You know it is. You can stand there and try to convince who ever you want that this was not your fault, but it is" She shook her head at me.

"And you know it" She said pointing in my face. I licked and lips and looked down. Pain corsating through my entire body. Still, not tears held in my eyes. I took a deep breath. "Please" I whispered. "I want you out of my house goddammit!" She screamed at me. I took a deep breath and stepped back for a second just looking at her. Wishing. Hoping. That just this once she would pick me over him. But she never had and she never would and now I knew that.

I swallowed and nodded. Still no tears. I turned on my feet, walking up the stairs, packed my things, and didn't look back as I left the house.

This was your fault y/n. Yours.

I closed my eyes before I knocked on the door quietly. It was past midnight at this point and Nick wasn't answering his phone, but this was my last hope. I didn't have anywhere else to go. I didn't have a home and it was starting to get really cold outside. The Boston cold. I hugged my arms as the breeze blew by.

I stood there looking at my feet with a duffle bag around my shoulders. Aching from the walk over here. It wasn't a bad walk. I walked it all the time, but with an extra 50 pounds of weight it was hard. My shoulders ached. I looked up at the door again, waiting for any signs of someone answering the door.

"Please" I whispered to myself as I saw my breath come out before me. A few seconds passed and I started to give up hope when I heard the door creek open slightly.

I looked up and saw a pair of familiar blue eyes. Chris Sturniolo stood before me. I blinked at him. He furrowed his eyebrows when he realized it was me. He looked down at my bag, then back up at me. I just looked down at my feet and then back up at him. He was not the one I wanted to answer the door.

"What's with the bag?" He asked opening the door all the way just looking at me, like he alwasy had. Unimpressed. Can I get a break just this once Chris? I wanted to say but instead I held my lips closed. "Can you get Nick?" I asked looking at him, as I shivered. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stood there examining me. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. I didn't like this.

"Chris please" I said quietly, not looking at him. He looked back up at my eyes before sighing. He looked behind him and then back to me. "He's been asleep for a while, come in" He said moving out of the way so that I could step inside. I left out a breath before walking through the door. I felt Chris grab my bag and I stopped, gripping my bag. He stepped back putting his hands up. Looking at me with a shocked expression.

"I was just getting your bag jeez" He said shaking his head and closing the door. I sighed looking down. "So jumpy" He mumbled walking past me and towards the stairs. I just watched him as he walked. He stopped and looked at me when he got to the staircase. He raised his eyebrows.

"You comin?" He asked looking at me. I blinked before following after him up the stairs. I tried not to stare too much as he walked up the steps. As painful as it was to be around Chris, he was deathly attractive. Which only made me hate him more. Kinda. I blinked and looked down at my feet before reaching the top of the steps.

"Guest bedrooms on the right next to the bathroom. You know where that is" He said sliding his hands into his pockets. I looked to where he was talking about and nodded. "Do you want me to wake Nick?" He asked looking at me. I shook my head. Nick had done enough for me tonight there was nothing ergrent going on. Mom just kicked me out, i'll still be kicked out tomorrow. There's no need to bother him while he was sleeping.

I shook my head. "No it's okay, I'll just talk to him tomorrow." I fake smiled. He just blinked at me. I started to turn to walk away but Chris grabbed my arm. I felt electricity run up to my shoulder. I turned around quickly putting my hand over where he had touched me. He slightly leaned back from my reaction.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly as if anyone heard him ask that the world might explode. I just looked at him for a second. Soaking in the almost concern in his face I'd never seen before. "Yeah." I nodded. Yeah I'm fine Chris" I whispered back. He nodded looking down at his feet.

"Get some sleep" He said before turning and walking back down the steps. I let out a breath before walking into the guest bedroom and setting my bag down. I sighed running my hands through my hair. Long day. Very long day.

I threw my hair up into a pony tail and crawled into the bed. I let out a breath. I heard a small knock at the door before I heard it start to creek open. Matt poked his head through the door and smiled before walking in. I smiled softly at him.

"Hey y/n/n" He said quietly. He looked down at his hands holding waters. "I brought you a water in case you get thirsty." He smiled walking over to the bed and handing me the waters. I took them and placed them on the table beside my bed.

"Thanks Matt" I sighed. He smiled down at me and started to turn before stopping. He looked down at me sadly. I wanted to throw up. "Chris told me you were here. That you were upset. I just- Are you okay?" He asked quietly. I looked up at the ceiling.

"Matt I'm okay I just don't want to be pitied. I'm still me" I said glancing over at him. He nodded and looked down. "There's some clothes in the bottom drawer if you want to change. They are old. They don't fit us anymore, but they will fit you" He smiled slightly. I nodded. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped before turning and exiting, leaving me alone. I stood up off my bed before going towards the drawer and shifting through the clothes.

I smiled at them. I picked up one shirt that was blue and read "Highlanders" which was the mascot of our high school. I brought it up to my nose and old cologne filled my nose. I smiled before ripping off my shirt and pulling it over me. I walked over and pulled myself back into my bed.I sighed and turned over, hugging my pillow.

I tried to close my eyes, but I couldn't. It was like a magnet that kept springing open. I tossed and turned before looking up at the ceiling, sighing letting my thoughts wonder around.

How could Chris even tell I was upset? I didn't even say anything. I shook my head at my thoughts. The last thing I need right now is for my mind to try to figure out the complex man who is Christopher Sturniolo.

I closed my eyes but it was hours before I finally drifted off to sleep.

I walked down the steps, I heard the talking in the kitchen come to a holt. I glanced over the staircase and saw all of the faces looking back at me. Mary Lou smiled at me softly before walking up to me and hugging me.

"You can stay here as long as you need sweetheart. You're a part of the family" She said quietly as she hugged me. Over her shoulder I met the eyes of Nick, Matt, and Chris. I looked away when she pulled back. I smiled at her.

"Thank you" I whispered. She nodded before walking back towards the kitchen. I looked at Nick who gave me a soft smile. I smiled back and sat next to him. I put my hands on my face and rubbed my eyes. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Nick reached over and rubbed my arm.

"Your hair looks like shit" He smiled over at me. I couldn't help but let out a small laugh, making Nick smile. "Nick" Matt scolded him. I shook Matt off quickly. "No...he's okay" I smiled looking up at Nick. "Thank you" I said quietly. In moments like these I don't know what I would do without him. He smiled and looked down.

"So we all get the pass to insult you right now?" Chris asked from across from me. I glared at him. Always butting heads like I said before. When Chris asked me if I was okay last night, that was the first time he was semi-nice to me. It honestly weirded me out a bit. Chris held eye contact for a second before he broke it and looked down. I smiled down to myself. I won.

"Because you look tired as shit" Chris said shoving his spoon full of cereal into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. Mary Lou set down a plate of eggs next to him, hitting him on the back of his head. Chris whined and put his hand on the back of his head, looking up at her. I laughed before covering my mouth.

"Language Christopher. That is no way to speak to a guest" She said looking down at him and then making eye contact with me and winking at me. "Nick said it first!" He said motioning to Nick. Nick and I giggled. I smiled at her. Sometimes she felt like a second mom to me. Actually more like my only mom. I admired her more than I admired myself.

Chris looked up glaring at me. I rolled my eyes. "You should try to eat something" Matt said beside Chris looking at me. I looked down at the food on the table. "I'll make you anything you want honey" Mary Lou said from the stove turning around to look at me.

The thought of food entering my body right now made me sick to my stomach. That's all it did recently and it showed. My legs were skinner, my face was too. I swallowed. I should eat. I know I should. It's not like I don't want to, just recently I can't. When I do, I puke it all up and if there is anything I hate more than feeling sick, It's throwing up. I talked to Nick about it and he told me that it might be trauma response. The lack of eating. I blinked down at the table.

"I don't really want to eat right now" I said quietly. Chris glanced up at me for a second before going back to his phone. Nick leaned slightly towards me. "Eat something y/n/n" He said softly. I just looked at him and then Matt, who was looking at me like I was an injured puppy.

Nick placed piece of bacon on the plate in front of me and Matt stood up taking a muffin off the counter and handing it to me. I looked between them both. "Just a little bit. It might make you feel better" Matt suggested across from me. This is exactly what I didn't want. To be babied. I could talk Nick off of it, but Matt was different. He didn't know me as well as Nick did, so he didn't believe me when I said I seriously did not want to be treated differently.

I looked up at Matt. He was staring at me waiting for me to eat the fucking muffin. I sighed before picking up. Maybe If I ate a little bit he would stop staring at me like that. I looked down at it before biting into it and chewing looking at Matt. He smiled and looked down, almost pleased with himself. I leaned back sighing.

After breakfast Nick when into his room to shower and before he told me he had a whole day planned of fun. I rolled my eyes as he smiled and jumped into his room. As I turned I felt it. I paused before walking quickly to my room. I walked in and ran into the bathroom, closing the door and leaning over the toilet, emptying my stomach.

I held my hair back as I puked. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to control my breath. I leaned back and sighed. Then It came again and held the toilet. I groaned and fell back against the fall. I heard a small knock on the door.

"Y/n?"

I looked towards the door and rubbed my eyes. I couldn't really tell the difference between their voices sometimes, but I knew who was on the other side of the door. "Hold on a sec" I said as I stood up, flushing the toilet. I leaned over towards the mirror and filled my mouth with water and spitting it out and then splashing some on my face. He knocked again.

"Matt-" I said as I opened the door but was met with the other brother not Matt. Chris hovered above me, looking down at me. He raised his eyebrows. "Still don't got the voices down yet huh?" He asked smiling. I closed my eyes sighing. "You all sound the exact same" I said shaking my head. He looked behind me and then back at me.

"Are you okay?" He said looking at me like I was crazy. I turned around and then looked back at him. "Yeah, I'm-fine. Please stop asking me that. What do you want?" I said looking at him. He glanced behind me again and then looked at me. "Were you just throwing up?" He asked scrunching his nose. I closed my eyes and hung my head.

"What do you want Chris?" I asked again, not answering his question. He just blinked at me, before sighing and looking down at his hands that were holding three water bottles. "Matt told me to bring these up to you" He said looking from the waters to me. I sighed looking at the waters. "But it looks like you already have enough" He said turning and looking at the four bottles of water already on my nightstand, unopened.

He had handed me two last night and when I woke up there were two more. I looked over to the other bottles. I groaned running my hands through my hair. I looked down at the ones in his hand before taking one out of his hand and walking over to the other ones placing it down.

"Can you please tell Matt to stop babying me? I don't want to be treated like I'm a baby who needs taking care of" I said glaring at Chris. He held his hands up. "Don't shoot the messenger" He smiled. I rolled my eyes. "He's just worried about your hydration" He chucked. I glared at him and looked down at the waters, tracing the top of one with one of my fingers. Chris looked down at me and sighed.

"Matt's just like that, you know that" Chris said defending him. I licked my lips and nodded. "I know, I just wish.....he wasn't. I don't know." I said shaking my head. Chris just stood next to me. "Maybe you should drink one. Maybe you threw up because you're dehydrated" He shrugged. I scoffed and shook my head.

He leaned over placing the other waters next to the others. "He's just trying to be there for you, because you know...your parents weren't" Chris said making me look up at him. "You don't know anything about my home life" I said crossing my arms. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at me.

"I know enough. I know it was bad enough that you showed up at out doorstep at 1am last night with a bag full of your stuff" He said glancing to the bag. I looked to the bag and then to him. I looked down at my feet.

"You're closed off and I get it." He explained. "No you don't" I shook my head. "You don't get it Chris" I said. "You don't get anything" I spat. "You don't get it because you have a mother who cooks you breakfast every morning and brothers you can talk to about anything" I said shaking my head.

"You don't have to worry about food on the table or if your dad is coming home that night" I said looking at him. "You never have to question your parents love or if you need to lock your door at night in case one of them gets angry" I said stepping towards him. "You never have to worry about if there's going to be presents under the tree Christmas morning and your heart doesn't drop when you see an empty bottle of vodka on the counter when you come home from school" I said as he stood over me.

"You hear your mother tell you she loves you every morning before handing you your lunch for that day" I shook my head. "So no Chris, you don't get it" I said narrowing my eyes. "So I appreciate you not treating me any differently, I do. Matt doesn't get that and you do, but don't sit here and try and tell me you understand when you don't." I finished looking up at him. His face didn't change as I yelled at him.

I shook my head and I moved past him but I felt his tug on the bottom of my shirt. "It's kind of funny, you yelling at me while wearing my shirt" He said glancing down at the shirt and then back up to my eyes. My face faded as I looked down at the shirt and then back up at him. "Your shirt?" I asked. He smiled and raised his eyebrows. I just blinked at him.

"You ready ?" Nick yelled as he walked through my door. Chris dropped the grip on the shirt and stepped back from me. I looked from Chris to Nick. Nick furrowed his eyebrows and looked at him. "What are you doing?" Nick asked him. Chris looked at the waters and pointed at them.

"I was bringing waters" He said putting his hands in his pockets. Nick looked at the waters and then into the hallway. "Tell Matt to stop being obsessed with hydration" Nick sighed walking in. Chris shurgged. "He thinks it heals everything thats not my fault" He chucked. Nick shook his head and looked at me.

"I want to go shopping" Nick clapped looking at me. I laughed and looked at him. Nick glanced to Chris who was still standing there. "You can go" He waved at him. Chris rolled his eyes and left the room

It's been two weeks since I moved into the Sturniolo's house. I'm feeling better. Nick's making it better. I sleep in his room ever other night and we laugh, watch movies, sing, dance. We do everything best friends do. It's amazing. I've gotten closer to Matt too. He's back off a bit so that's good. Chris was still harder to break through with. He'll hang out with us, but he mostly ignores me or if he does acknowdge me, he's making fun of me. Which I don't mind. It is what it is, but I still wish he would try like I do.

Now I was standing outside of the bathroom door banging on it. Chris knew I needed to shower and he's been in there for 30 minutes. He was doing it to enrage me. I knew he was. He ran into the bathroom as I walked to it with a towel in my hands. I knocked on the door again.

"Chris come on!" I yelled. I groaned and leaned against the wall as I heard the shower turn off. I sighed of relief. "Thank God" I mumbled to myself. A few seconds later the door was opening. the Lord could have never prepared me for what I saw when the door opened.

"Could you have-" I froze.

Chris stared back at me. His hair still dripping wet against his forehead. His towel hanging low on his waist and the fresh shave cleanly shown on his face. His eyes seem to have gotten bluer in the shower if that was even possible. Steam from the shower poured out into the hallway illuminating him like an angel walking out of heaven.

My voice froze. My body froze. My eyes scanned his body without permission from my brain as I glanced down to his toned stomach and the dangerously low towel that was leaving little to my imagination. Chris smirked up at me like he always did. I swallowed as my eyes met back to his.

"Cat got your tongue?" He asked leaning against the door frame. My cheeks caught on fire as I blinked at him. I cleared my throat. "No I just-" I said stumbling over my words. He laughed and shook his head as he turned and walked down the hall. I swallowed and pressed my hand against my face, I was burning up.

"Fuck" I whispered to myself. I turned and watched him as he walked and he briefly turned and met my eyes with the same smirk before opening his bedroom and walking in. I shook my head and walked into the bathroom and closed the door fast. As If I could erase the embarssment that had just happened outside if I closed the door fast enough. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

Y/n what are you doing? Looking at Chris like that? I opened my eyes and turned towards the sink seeing residue of a razor sitting on the counter along with cologne and necklaces that he had discarded when taking a shower.

"Fuck" I whispered again. It's just physical attraction. It's human nature. It's not that big of a deal. I thought to myself as I stood there pressed against the door. God that was horrifying. I shook my head as I reached in the shower before turning it on. A few minutes later I held my hand under it to feel a stream of cold water. My face hardened. Chris. I hated him again, never mind.

About an hour later I sat in Matt's room along with Nick. Matt was playing his video games while Nick and I sat and watched him, not really understanding what was going on. Matt removed one of muffs over his ear and turned to us.

"Can you go grab Chris? He was suppose to join the game an hour ago. I don't know what's taking him so long" Matt groaned. Nick looked over at me. "Can you? I'm comfy" He said as he wiggled in his blanket. I swallowed. "Uh, can't you?" I asked looking at him. I really didn't want to face him after what happened an hour ago. I just don't want him to tease me about it. After spending an entire cold shower thinking about it. It was just physical attraction. Nothing more. It's human nature. He's attractive under the normal girl-standard. That's it.

"Pleasseee" Nick whined. I looked down at him before groaning and standing up off the bed and walking out of Matt's room. My breath was unsteady as I walked down the hall towards Chris's room. Why was I acting like this? Why was I nervous? This was ridiculouis. I shook my head and my thoughts as I stood in front of his door.

I knocked lightly.

"Come in" I heard from the other side. I grabbed the handle opening the door slowly. Chris was pulling on a T-Shirt with his back towards me. I looked up. You've got to be kidding me. I looked back down at him as he turned around.

"Oh. Hey" He said looking at me. I didn't say anything. "I was wondering why someone was knocking and not just barging in" He smiled pushing his now dry hair back with his hand. I just blinked at him. He moved back over to his bed, picking up a sweatshirt and starting to put in on.

"Did you need something?" He asked smiling due to my silence. I took a breath in. "Yeah-right. Matt said that you were suppose to get on the game or something?" I said looking back and then towards him. He pulled the sweatshirt on and nodded. "Yeah I know, I'm about to get on" He said picking up his phone. I pursed my lips and nodded. Chris looked up at me and then to the side then back to me.

"Did you need anything else?" He asked raising his eyebrows. I blinked. "No! I just-" I looked down then back up at him. He just looked at me. My cheeks flared up again. God, I hate my body. He smiled and started to walk towards me. I stood frozen, like my feet were incapable of moving. I swallowed as he got closer and looked down at me. He stood so close he hovered over me just looking down at me. I just stared back at him. The air was still and it was silent between us. He narrowed his eyes down at me.

"How was your shower?" He whispered. I just blinked up at him. He was too close and too quiet to ask me that. "Cold" I whispered back breathless. He pursed his lips hiding a smile. His eyes glanced over my face.

"I think you've got a staring problem" He said hovering over me. I pursed my lips. "I think you've got an attitude problem" I breathed back. He smiled. "Maybe I do" He whispered back. I just blinked up at him, my heart beating out of my chest. His eyes trailed down my face and to my lips before looking back up in my eyes.

He stepped back before turning and grabbing his phone. I let go of a breath before turning and walking out of his room and closing the door, quickly retreating back to Matt's room. I opened the door and saw Nick scrolling through his phone and Matt studying the game in front of him.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT!!!

I’ll take the feedback loves❤️

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

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watsittoyah · 11 months

Text

Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, sex dreams, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, breeding kink and slight blood play. Some obsessive behavior..

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 3- Tinted Windows…

Your eyes opened and you were stretching. When you look around your room you instantly feel a panic.

Was last night a dream?

It couldn’t have been right?

You throw the sheets off of the bed and your legs felt a bit wobbly. As you run to the door you stop as a very well built Miguel O’Hara stood there with breakfast for you.

“Buen día, mi amor. How did you sleep?” He asks as he looks down at you with a smile. It wasn’t a dream, he actually is here. “I slept like a baby. How about you?” He places your breakfast down and he cups your face between his hands.

“I slept great, at least until you started snoring.” You look at him mortified. “I don’t snore!” You move away from him but he pulls you back. “I’m only teasing you. You don’t snore. But speaking of things while you were sleep, your roommate wants to talk to you.”

Your eyes shoot right to the door. “Shit, shit, shit. I need my pants. Where are my pants?” You grab a pair of sweatpants and you roll those on, tossing your ripped shorts into the trash. “I’ll be right back.” You tell Miguel as you leave the room and close the door behind you.

In the living room your see your roommate, reading a magazine. “Good morning.” You say as you stand there. “Morning.” She says as she flips the page.

Ooh she’s in a mood.

“Erica I can explain-“ She raises a hand. “You know I woke up this morning and I smelled breakfast. I was thinking, T is out of her depression funk, good for her. But then I remembered that we didn’t go grocery shopping just yet. So I left my bedroom and I see a big back in our kitchen. And that big back didn’t belong to you-”

“I can expl-”

“Let me finish. This man spoke to me, he was polite. He made me a plate, he made Milo some food. And he cleaned up after himself. Shit I’m thinking about letting him move in with us. Now is that the man who had you in a mood for the past two weeks?” You just nod and she looks up at you.

“You better had forgave him, or so help me, T I will body slam you across this apartment. Because that’s a good man you got. Hell does he have a brother?” You feel a small smile on your face and shrug.

“I don’t know we were a bit too busy last night for me to ask.” Her eyes get big. “Was it good?” She whispers. “My legs are still wobbly but girl, it was more than good.”

“You lucky bitch.” You both laugh and she gets up and pulls you into a hug. “Go, we can have that walk later. I need to go visit my mom. And make sure you two keep that in your bed room. I don’t want to come home and I see ass and tiddies where Milo eats his snacks.” You suck your teeth at your roommate but smile.

“See you later E.” She waves over her shoulder and leaves the apartment. As you walk back into your room your see Miguel getting dressed. “Where are you going?” You ask in a panic.

“I have some important business to attend to, amor. Trust me if it wasn’t important I wouldn’t be leaving your side right now.” He kisses your lips several times before walking to your door. “Oh, okay. Well will you be back later?”

“No, I’m going to be busy for the next few days, but I will text and call you every chance I get.” You give a sad smile and Miguel pulls you into a hug. “Don’t give me that look. It’s already hard enough I have to leave a beautiful woman like you alone for a while. If it were up to me I’d kidnap you.” You laugh at that but in his eyes he looked serious.

“Go, you have business and I have a breakfast that my loving hus…” You stop your words right there.

Were you about to say loving husband?

“You enjoy your day, Miguel.” You smile at him and he stands there for a moment. “You too, Tommie.”

“Here let me walk you out.” As you two walk to the front door, Miguel turns to you and he lifts your chin up so you’re staring up at him. “When I’m all done, I want to take you to dinner. Would that be okay with you?”

“Yes, I’m sure it would….are you sure you can’t stay? It’s my day off and I’m going to be all alone in this apartment for a few hours.” Just then you hear a small meow and you both look to see Milo stretching out by the window. “Don’t tempt me. You hold down the fort, Milo. And I’ll call you, amor.” Miguel pins you against the wall and he kisses you passionately, leaving you feeling light headed. “Until we see each other again.” Miguel gives you one more peck and he leaves out the door. You close it behind him and you press your back against the door, sliding down it like some love sick puppy.

“Milo don’t look at me like that.” You say as Milo watches you from across the room…

•••

It’s been a few days and you haven’t heard from Miguel. “What’s wrong baby cakes?” Your grandmother asks as you help her in her garden. “Hmm? Nothing. The strawberries look good.”

“Those are cherry tomatoes. Now I know something is wrong. Look at me.” You try to avoid her eyes but you know you can’t. “What’s wrong?” You sigh and sit down in the dirt.

“There’s this guy, and well we haven’t been talking long but…it feels like I’ve known him for a long time. Anyways he said that he would keep in contact with me and I haven’t heard from him…in the past few days.”

Your grandmother gives you a side hug. “You like this boy?”

“I do, he…just seems so familiar to me. Am I being clingy?” You ask as she helps you up off of the ground. You clean off your butt and she shakes her head. “Baby cakes, that’s the thing about you young ones. Don’t even say you’re old you’re only thirty-three, that’s young. There is no such thing as clingy when it comes to someone you care about. Call him if you want to. Leave him a message and let him know he’s on your mind. Don’t neglect your feeling. Be honest. That is what your grandfather and I do. That’s what your father and mother use to do. Be honest.”

You nod at her advice and as you go to speak you hear the back door and your grandfather comes out with a tray of drinks.

“Boy it is hot out here. How would you ladies like to take a break and have some ice cold lemonade?” You accept the glasses and hand one to your grandmother.

“Charles, you didn’t make this too sweet did you? You know your sugar levels can’t handle that.”

“Barbra, just drink the lemonade and stop worrying about my sugar levels.” As your grandparents bicker, you smile at the two. They were the best parents that anyone could have asked for.

When your parents had passed when you were thirteen, you had moved in with them. Their relationship was the blueprint for you. And maybe one day you could have what they had.

“The garden looks wonderful, Barbra. Now can I take my granddaughter to the junk yard so we can build something?” Your grandmother kisses his cheek and pats his face. “Come back to me, Charles. And bring our baby back safe.” He smiles and nods. “I will. Now come on brains. I know where we can find a mini jet engine.”

You place your empty glass down and kiss your grandmother on her cheek. “I’ll keep him safe.” You and your grandfather gets to the front of the house and you get into his pick up truck.

“What do you want to built today, brains?” Your grandfather asks as he starts driving down the street. “I’m thinking maybe a gene splicer? Or another alarm clock.” You say as you look at your phone and see a message from Miguel.

Thinking about you, amor.

You smile and text back.

I’m thinking about you too…I miss you.

You press send before you regret it and hear your grandfather cough. “You okay?” You ask concerned. “I’m alright, I’m just gonna stop by the store and grab some cough drops.”

He turns down the road and stops by a mini bodega. “I got it.” You tell him as you get out of the truck.

You walk inside and go directly to where the cough drops were. As you look for the sugar free brand you feel someone watching you. You glance around and see no one except the cashier. But he was watching the tv.

You go back to looking and you find a brand with at least 3 grams of sugar in it. “Better than nothing I guess.” You mumble as you walk to the register. You grab a bottle of water on your way up and place them both on the counter.

The cashier looks over at you and straightens. “Hello there.” He says in a friendly tone. “Hello..” You balance on the balls of your feet as he rings you out and you catch him staring.

“I hope you found everything you needed today, and if so could I take you out for a coff…” You wonder why he stops talking and when you look at him he was staring past you in horror.

You look back only to see no one was there. “Okay, well you have a good day.” You give him exact change and you go back out to the truck.

“How much do I owe you?” Your grandfather asks. You shrug. “The cashier gave it to me cause I was cute. So it’s free.” You joke. “You’re as stubborn as your father, I swear. The man wouldn’t let me pay him back for anything.” You smile and as you two pull out of the parking lot you see a large man leaving the bodega.

That looks like, nah. It couldn’t be…could it?

••••

Your hands were filthy but it was worth it for all the parts you two had salvaged. “Make sure you don’t go building something illegal. I’d hate to have to put my granddaughter in jail for the reward money.” Your grandfather says as he helps you with your parts and puts them in the back.

“I was going to say it was you and get the reward money.” You both laugh and he pats your curly hair. “You know you remind me of CJ everyday. Down to the curly hair…” Your grandfather grows silent and he takes his handkerchief out and wipes his eyes.

“I miss dad too. Sometimes when I wake up in the morning I’ll look in the mirror and see his eyes.” You two stand in silence and from the corner of your eye you see movement. You try to strain your eyes but your grandfather clears his throat.

“I know you are your fathers daughter, but promise me you won’t go into that line of work.” Here we go again. “Grandpa I know you don’t want me working as a tech engineer but I know I have what it takes. Alchemax would pro-”

“Don’t you ever say that company’s name in my presence, brains. Not after what they did to this family. After what they did my your parents.” You suck in your bottom lip and nod. “Yes sir.”

As the two of you got in the car you sit in silence. “Can we stop for some ice cream? I’ll pay.” You tell him. “We can stop and I’ll be paying. I won’t have my granddaughter spoiling me. I’m suppose to spoil you. And maybe some great-grand children if you decide to have some.”

“Here we go. Grandpa I will have babies one day but not today or tomorrow.”

“I know, I just want you to have someone. Like I have your grandmother. I want you happy. Even if it’s with a gold fish.” Your grandfather drives and you look out the window. In the rear view mirror you see a black sleek sports car following the truck. The windows to the car were tinted black so you couldn’t see who it was behind the wheel.

You have light conversation with your grandfather and keep an eye on the car. So far it’s been following you for the past ten minutes.

“…I’ll be sure to stay over for dinner tonight.” You answer as he takes a left turn and sure enough the car takes a left turn as well.

Who is following us?

When your grandfather finally gets to the ice cream parlor, the car just drives past and you feel yourself finally relax.

Maybe it was just a coincidence?

You and your grandfather head inside of the ice cream parlor and were greeted by Mary-Anne. The owner of the parlor. “Hey guys, what can I get for you two today?”

“I’ll take the cherry cone with butter crunch cream.” You give your grandfather a look. “Mary-Anne he’ll have the vanilla sugar free cone.”

He huffs. “Back in my day a man could eat a honey bun and have a bottle of coke and no one would bat an eye.”

“Well I want my grandfather to see me in my wedding dress so no complaints. Alright I’ll have the toffee special, but in a waffle bowl.” Mary-Anne gets your orders ready and your grandfather pats his pockets.

“Drat, I left it-I’ll go get it. Don’t you dare pay.” He goes to leave but you stop him. “I’ll grab your wallet. It’s in your special spot right?” You go to open the door but the handle was moved away from you and you’re staring into a pair of pretty hazel eyes.

Before he could speak you push him back out. “Miguel, what are you doing?” You ask him in a hushed tone. “What do you mean? I was just in the neighborhood.” You blink serval times because clearly this man thinks you’re stupid.

“Miguel, don’t you lie to me, why have you been following me?” He goes to lie but you raise your brow at him. “Don’t you lie! That was you leaving the bodega. That was you in the junk yard. And that was you in the car following us. Before you say no, there are hundred of ice cream parlors in Nueva York. But this one, is special because I’ve been coming here since I was a little girl. That? That is too much of a coincidence. Now tell me the truth.” You tap your foot and cross your arms waiting for his answer. He sighs.

“I was only following you because I had happened to spot you while I was out. I was going to text you but I thought that was a bit creepy. I’m sorry mi corazón. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Miguel pulls you in as he moves your arms so he can embrace you.

You wish you could stay mad at him but you can’t help but melt from his touch. Your body missed him. “I missed you.” You tell him as you look up at him. “And I missed you too.” Miguel leans down to kiss you but you two jump apart when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“Grandpa! I was just-”

“About to introduce me to your friend?” He asks as he eyes Miguel. Miguel goes to shake his hand. “Hello sir. My name is Miguel O’Hara, it’s so nice to meet you.” He shakes his hand back and you can tell he’s sizing him up.

“I wish I could say the same.”

“Grandpa!” You scold him. “Tell me what are your intentions with my granddaughter?” If you could have the ground open up and swallow you, you would.

“I want nothing more than to keep her safe, sir.” Your grandfather looks over at you. “Is this man someone who you like?” You feel put on the spot but you nod and feel your face warm up. “Yes.”

He huffs. “I already knew it. When I came out here the boys paws were all over your behind I thought I was going to get some grandkids tonight.”

Miguel tries to hide his laugh and you cover your face. “Grandpa I’m paying for your ice cream. I’ll even let you get the one you really want just go back inside please.” He purses his lips but goes back inside.

“I like him. He’s funny.” Miguel says as he stands there watching your grandfather. “He’s a real riot. So are you still handling your business?”

“Nope, I am officially done for the rest of the day.”

“Good, then I’m inviting you over for dinner at my grandparents.” Miguel looks a bit surprised. “So soon? Are you sure?” You lean in close. “Miguel we literally had sex and I know you have fangs.” You whisper to him.

“Right…right. Do you think your grandparents will like me? Should I bring something? Maybe I should go get a haircut.”

“Don’t you dare cut those locks of yours. You’ll be fine and you can bring my grandmother flowers. She has a garden so she’d love that. Now let me go back inside before this grumpy old man starts to tell me about condoms and other forms of birth control. And Miguel?”

“Sí amor?” You pat his cheek. “You’ll be fine. I’ll send your address. Dinner is at seven o clock sharp. Don’t be late.” You kiss his lips and walk back inside of the parlor. Your grandfather narrowing his eyes at Miguel.

“Grandpa stop that. He’s a nice guy. How much do I owe you, Mary-Anne?”

“He better be nice. He’s as big as a bear and he stares a little too hard at you. I don’t like it.”

“Mr. Valentine you should be open minded. My son, Maverick. He brought home a handsome boy the other day and I have to say he makes him happy. Tommie does your man friend make you happy?”

“Yes he does. And he is coming over for dinner tonight. Grandpa don’t even try to argue, or I’ll tell grandma about the ice cream.” He shuts his mouth as you pay and you two leave out of parlor.

You shoot Miguel a text and you cross your fingers hoping tonight goes perfect.

••••

Good thing you had a few cute clothes in your old bedroom.

You were freshly showered and you were trying to get your curls to listen. But they wanted to defy gravity and stick up. “Where is my butterfly clip?” You say as you search your dresser. You find the clip and secure it in your hair.

You then give yourself a nice look over. You were wearing a pretty flower dress that came down to your calf’s. A pair of yellow wedges and you had on a thin chain with your initials on it.

“Is this too much?” You ask as you turn and look at your plump butt in the mirror. “No, this is cute. And sexy at the same time.” You comment as you grab your phone and check the time.

Miguel had sent a text that he was outside and you ran out of your old room to go meet him. “No running.” Your grandmother calls out from the kitchen. “Sorry!” You call over your shoulder. Just before you open the door you take a calm breath and put a smile on your face.

When you open it you see Miguel standing there with two bouquets of flowers. “These Spider Lillie’s are for you, amor. And these baby breathe flowers are for your grandmother.” You smell the flowers and they smelled amazing. “Thank you, please come in. I’ll introduce you.” You lead him into the kitchen and there you look for a vase.

“Grandma, this is Miguel. Miguel this is my grandma.” Your grandmother wipes her hands dry on a dish towel and she opens her arms to him.

“Come here and let me look at you.” She touches his face and she then smiles at the both of you. “My you are handsome. Now I see why my granddaughter is taken by you.”

“Grandma, please.” You whine. Miguel smiles at her and she pats his chest. “Miguel I hope you like chicken stew with vegetables from my garden.”

“That sounds delicious, Señora. May I help you set the table?” She nods in approval and you show her the flowers Miguel had gotten you.

“Oh these will look so lovely in my garden, Miguel. Thank you.” She sniffs them and he looks over at you and mouths that he likes her. You mouth back what’s not to like?

After the table is set and the food is out, the four of you sit down and get ready to eat. You help serve Miguel and he pours you a drink. Your grandparents watches you two and feel a smile on your face as Miguel’s hand finds yours under the table.

“So Miguel, what do you do for work?” Your grandmother asks as she passes a roll to your grandfather. “I am a scientist. I work in the field that involves evolution to mammals as well as insects.”

“Ah, you're a brain just like Tommie here. I’m happy, the bloodline has hope yet.” You see your grandmother shoot a glare at your grandfather and then she smiles at Miguel.

“I apologize for my husband, his sugar is just low. Anyways, how did you and Tommie meet?” You go to speak but Miguel talks.

“It’s actually quite embarrassing. I had moved into the building about four months ago and I had first saw your granddaughter when I was bringing boxes to my apartment. I have to say I was smitten the very moment I seen her. But I was too shy to approach her first so I just stood back and waited for the perfect opportunity. So it was in the parking lot, she had dropped her water bottle and it was really flying down the walk way so I picked it up and from that very moment, we’ve been talking ever since.” Miguel says as he rubs your knuckles with his thumb.

“Oh my goodness look at you two. So cute, you know it’s as if you two have been together for years. Doesn’t it seem like that, Charles?”

“Mhm, yeah.” Your grandfather says as he eats another forkful. You eat your food and feel that dinner was going to be perfect for sure.

After a plate and a half, some dessert and coffee, it was time to go home.

“Are you two sure you had enough?” Your grandmother asks as she sees you two out. “Grandma, if we have anymore food, we will have to be rolled back to the apartment.” You says as you give her a hug and a kiss.

“Dinner was amazing, Miss Barbra. Next time I come over I’ll have to share my abuela’s cookies recipe with you.” He gives her a hug as well and she rubs his back. “You two don’t be a stranger, and Tommie make sure you call me when you two get home.”

“I will!” Miguel leads you to his car and he opens the door for you. After he makes sure you’re inside safely he closes it and walks around. You open the door and he slides in. “I like your grandparents. They’re sweet.”

“They are. And even though my grandpa was acting grumpy he likes you. Did you see his face light up when you mentioned that you liked football. I think he’s going to take you away from me.”

“Nah, he’s not my type. I like pretty women named Tommie Valentine.” Miguel starts up his car and he drives out of the driveway. As he drives you sit there in silence for a while.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks as he holds your hand. You sigh. “I was just thinking how much I don’t know about you. Like was what you said about meeting me true?”

“Of course. I seen you wearing this pretty pink dress and you were talking to Erica about watching a robotics documentary. Your hair was out and you looked happy. I wanted to talk to you but well you know.” You look at his profile and study it.

“I’m still sad you didn’t come up to me sooner. I would’ve liked to have known I had a secret admirer.”

“Well, mi princesa. The whole thing about a secret admirer is that it is a secret. And besides I’m sure I would’ve startled you with my demeanor.” He says as he glances at you.

“I guess, you are a bit intimidating. But I still don’t know much about you. Like do you have a brother? Are your parents still around? Where do you work? Why do you have fangs?” He laughs out loud and kisses your knuckles.

“Alguien tiene muchas preguntas. So many questions. Well I have a half brother named Gabriel. It’s a bit of a touchy subject with my parents but they are still around. I work at Columbia Tech. And about the fangs that’s going to have to wait until later, only because it’s a lot to explain.”

You pout at the last answer. “Okay, I guess but when you finally tell me I’m going to have notes ready.” He chuckles at your answer and shakes his head. “I know you will. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Have you saved any people?” That question causes him to freeze and he looks at you as he stops at the stop sign. “What did you say?”

“Have you saved any people? I know being a scientist can bring on new discoveries to help further modern medicine. If that’s a touchy subject for you I can-”

He interrupts you by kissing you. Which’s causes the wind to be sucked out of your lungs. When he moves back his eyes were gentle and you can tell he wants to say something but instead he continues driving.

You sit back in your seat and you soon hear rain hit his windshield. “I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight. This rain is going to be so good. Maybe I’ll sleep with my window open.” You say as you look out the window.

“Is that so?” Miguel asks as he lets go of your hand and squeezes your upper thigh under your dress. He gets to the inside parking lot and you watch as his hand squeezes again. “Yes. Should I not sleep with my window open?”

You watch a smirk crawl across his lips. “I’m not saying no, but if you’re not careful you might let the boogeyman in that way.” Miguel backs into a parking spot and that move right there made a moan escape your lips. “Did you say something, amor?”

“No! Nope! I didn’t. But I’m a big girl, Mr. O’Hara. I don’t believe in the boogeyman.” You say as you move your hips a little so he can go further up your dress. “Oh that’s a shame. Because if you did believe in him, I’d have to come over and check to make sure he doesn’t come into your room tonight.” Miguel says as he moves his hand and runs this thumb across your bottom lip.

“Well I know the boogeyman won’t be coming into my room. But I know who I want to come.” You say as you hold his hand still and suck his middle and ring finger. Miguel’s eyes instantly turn ruby red and he presses a button to make his seat lean back.

“My my, you are a big girl. Well why don’t you show me what else big girls can do, espléndida.” You lick his fingers and bring his hand under your dress and under your panties.

He slides his wet fingers inside of you and you grip his wrist as you moan. “Miguel…” You moan out, knowing no one can hear you over the rain.

“Your pretty little pussy is sucking in my fingers so well. I wonder how many more fingers you can take.” He whispers against your ear as he uses his palm to rub your clit. You feel him insert another finger and you lean your head back, letting your throat be exposed to him. He licks and sucks your neck as he does a come here motion inside of you.

“Oh god…” You groan out as you move your hips. “You feel that? Your greedy little pussy keeps squeezing around my fingers. But I have something else it can squeeze.” He takes your hand and places it over his crotch and you moan because you want to taste him.

You move him back and you unzip his pants. “Can I?” You ask as you look at him and moan. “It’s all yours, amor. Do whatever you want to me.” He leans back and you lean over the seat as you pull his dick out and suck him. He continues to rub your pussy as you suck the head. You choke a little which turns you on because he throbs in your mouth.

“This mouth, this fucking mouth is heaven. Fuck.” Miguel moans as he grips the back of your neck. He slowly fucks your mouth as he rubs you and your eyes roll back as you moan and gag. “Fuck, don’t stop. Just keep sucking. You don’t need air right? No you don’t. You don’t need air. Seré tu aire.” You feel tears running down your face but you feel yourself getting extremely wet.

You wanted this man to fuck your throat, till he came. He bucked up faster hitting the back of your throat and your legs started to clench as you were close to coming on his seat. His head falls back as he groans that he’s coming. You tighten your throat and in just that simple movement Miguel’s whole body went still and he let out a whimpering groan as he came down your throat. You swallow deeply and you shiver as you come soon after.

The both of you were breathing heavy when you had leaned back. Miguel was staring at you, his eyes were roaming your body. You were staring at him. Already taking off your panties and climbing over the seat, straddling him.

You guide him inside of you and you both let out a moan as he stretches you out. As the base meets your pelvis you still and Miguel placed his hands on your ass and he grips you tight.

“Rock your hips for me. I’m going to show you how I like to be ridden.” You start to move your hips but Miguel guides you and he bites his lip drawing blood from his fangs.

You lean over and flick your tongue against his blooded lip and he captures your lips with his. He kisses you and slaps your ass causing you to rock your hips harder. “Just like that. Princesa, fuck me. Fuck me just like that. You’re to good. Eres tan buena conmigo. Just like that. Keep that up and I’ll get you pregnant.”

You tighten around him and you fuck him harder as you rock your hips. “You like that? The thought of me fucking coming inside of you? Oh Princesa, I’ll fuck the come inside of you. Come here.” He grabs a hold of you and you feel him scrape his fangs against your shoulder as he fucks up deeper inside of you. You let out a strangled moan and you bite into his shoulder instead.

He groans out your name and moans out he’s coming. Your body shakes with climax and you both come hard, causing a mess on his driver seat. You rest your hand on his window and he rests his head against your chest.

You look down at him and he looks up at you. “Aren’t you glad I have tinted windows?” He says causing the two of you to laugh. He gently pats your butt as you slide off of him. You wince and you fix your dress.

“Sorry about your seats.” You say feeling embarrassed. “Don’t be sorry, I was going to get my car detailed anyway. And Tommie?”

“Hmm?” You ask feeling very lust drunk. “Anything you want to ask, just ask me. I would never hide anything from you.” He then leans over and gives a peck to your lips. “Mmm, thank you, Miguel.”

“No need for a thanks. I just want to be honest with you…Oh! Make sure you tell your grandmother you’re home.”

You pick up your phone and text her then put the phone back in your bag. “Do you want to come inside and spend the night?” You ask hoping he’ll say yes. “Y…I can’t. I have something to do. But I can walk you inside.” You frown at that.

Because for some reason you feel as if Miguel is hiding more than why he has fangs.

The more you get to know him the less you actually know who Miguel O’Hara really is…

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#miguel o'hara #watsittoyah #along came a spider #along came a spider 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x tommie valentine #miguel o'hara x black reader #tommie valentine #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman smut #oscar issac hernandez estrada #oscar issac smut

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wheresarizona · 1 month

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Learning to Live Part 32

summary: It’s the night of his bachelor party, and a sober Javier gets a call from his very drunk fiancée asking him to pick her up from her bachelorette party. Three days later, it’s their wedding day, and Javier hasn’t seen or talked to his bride since the night before—they’d agreed not to see each other until it was time to say ‘I do,’ and his father took it one step further by having her guarded to keep Javier away. Will that really stop him from going to her before the big event (with his eyes covered)?

rating: M (This chapter is very story-driven, BUT there’s a little bit of inappropriate touching. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), Drunk!Reader, bachelor/bachelorette parties, emotional hurt/comfort, dysfunctional family, Javier taking care of you while you’re drunk and when you get sick (it’s very sweet), grief, discussion of pregnancy, WEDDING, getting ready for the wedding, Chucho hardcore not letting you see each other before the wedding, blindfolded Javier sneaking to where you are anyway, tying his bow tie, nerves, panic attack, EMOTIONS, Javier crying when he sees you in your dress, EXTREMELY romantic things said, Javier being cute with kids, you both wrote your own vows (did I mention emotions and romantic things said?), Chucho being a great officiant, (1) bible verse about love with no mention of God/Jesus/anything religious, crying, comedy sprinkled in, a fun and heartfelt chapter)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (no physical descriptions)

word count: 23k+ (Tumblr hates my long chapters and might not let you reblog with a comment. Since reblogs are super important, if you wish to comment, feel free to do it in the comments on the post or send me an ask. 🥰🥰🥰)

a/n: Get your tissues ready; it’s time to get married! 🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭 First of all, Happy Birthday to this story! 2 years old! I just want to thank everyone who’s continued reading this labor of my love. All the comments, reblogs, and likes mean the world to me! They make me want to write more, too. I know there’s no smut in this one, but, in my opinion, I think it’s still really good, and the people who’ve read it agree. There also was literally no opportunity for them to be alone and do anything more than touching—you can blame Chucho for keeping them apart. But the next chapter? Oh, it’s on. It’s gonna be so horny. Lol Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing. I love you.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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In the year 1981, Ronald Reagan was sworn in as the 40th President of the United States and almost assassinated two months later; the Space Shuttle Columbia became the first crewed reusable spacecraft to return from orbit successfully, and the wedding of Prince Charles and Diana Spencer was watched by over 750 million people worldwide.

It also happened to be the year Javier Peña’s life went to shit.

Looking back at all that happened, he could pinpoint the exact moment everything went wrong. It wasn’t disappearing in the early hours on the day he was supposed to be wed; it was six months earlier when he let a pretty girl, who never once acknowledged his existence in the several years they went to school together, buy him a drink—that was the beginning of the end. That was the start of his downfall and had his life veering off course.

By the time his wedding to Lorraine had rolled around in early September, Javier was at the lowest he'd ever been in his twenty-two years of life—so depressed, hopeless, and scared that he became numb and was just existing instead of living. Back then, he still had buddies in Laredo with whom he'd gone to high school, and though Lorraine didn't let him hang out with them much, she approved of them throwing him a bachelor party the weekend before their nuptials were supposed to take place.

He hadn't wanted one.

Who would want to celebrate marrying someone they didn't love or even liked? Marriage to Lorraine was a prison sentence, and his only crime had been dating the wrong woman. It’d also be a cruel reminder that he’d lose what little freedom he had in a week’s time.

His friends had known him for many years, having practically grown up together, and they were well aware of Javier’s dread. They had tried to talk him out of going through with it on multiple occasions, but he always stood firm that he wouldn’t abandon his child and their mother, and that he got himself into the mess, and he needed to own up to it—plus there was Lorraine’s father who told Javier he’d never meet his kid if he didn’t marry her.

To stop his pals from worrying about him, he finally agreed to the party and tried his best to act like he was fine when, in reality, his world was crumbling.

It may come as a surprise, but he was once a very social creature who had a lot of friends in his youth—his three closest had been Benito Esquivel, Salvador ‘Sal’ Soto, and Ken Miller. These were the guys who packed him into Sal’s moss green colored ‘72 Chevrolet Blazer and took him on a road trip to Austin, where they went bar hopping and ended up at a strip club, as was the course for bachelor parties.

Javier drank so much that night his memory was spotty on all that had happened, yet he distinctly remembered a moment when he was completely wasted in a private room at the club, crying while getting a lap dance and the kind stripper comforting him in the middle of it.

His first bachelor party didn’t go so well and wasn’t something he liked to think back on. He wished he could rip that entire chapter out of his life, but it was important for shaping the man he became—it began a chain of events that would eventually lead him to finding the perfect woman he was meant to be with—the one who truly loved him, wanted nothing more than for him to be happy, and filled that part of him he’d always been missing.

Cielito was the love of his life, his soulmate, his media naranja.

And they shared the same kind of love his parents once had, which he’d always dreamed of having but never imagined he’d actually get to experience.

His buddies had tried to keep in contact with him after he ran away, but he was too ashamed of how he left and didn't want their pity. It wasn't until his mother's funeral in '91 that he saw most of them again, and though he appreciated them being there, he kept them at arm's length. Even when he returned home in '93 and '96, he continued avoiding them because he wasn’t the same Javi they once knew, and he didn’t want to see the looks on their faces when they realized how fucked up he’d become.

Now, he was having his second bachelor party seventeen years after the first, and he couldn’t be happier celebrating that he was getting married in a few days.

This time around, his dad planned the party, and there wasn’t any bar hopping or strip clubs. Instead, Chucho got Javier’s tíos (uncles) and male primos (cousins) together for an asada (barbecue) in his backyard.

It was close to midnight, and he knew the party wouldn’t end any time soon. His family were sitting in groups, taking up the picnic table, or sitting with him in lawn chairs around the large fire pit, which was currently ablaze, with the tall flames licking up toward the sky. He’d already eaten and was nursing his third beer over the many hours he’d been there, the bottle in his hand resting on his jean-clad thigh. The fire and his black leather jacket were keeping him warm while he listened to his friend Ken, sitting beside him talking about his four-year-old daughter’s recent T-ball game.

“—so she hits the ball off the tee,” he said, “and throws her bat as hard as she can behind her at the backstop—which, thank fuck they don’t have catchers—and starts runnin’ as fast as her little legs can go, only to stop halfway to first base to pick up the ball and chuck it with all her might out of bounds.”

Javier chuckled and sipped his drink—he couldn’t wait to tell these kinds of stories about his own children.

“Clever kid,” Benito replied, sitting on his other side. “How pissed off was Emily when she didn’t get to stay on first base?”

“You know Em, Benny. That little girl is more fiery than the hair on her head.” Her father had dark blonde hair, and she had bright red, yet both shared ocean-blue eyes.

A few months back, Javier felt like he was finally in a place where he could reconnect with his old friends. He’d gone out for drinks with Benito and Ken a few times to catch up, and they’d shown him pictures of their families; Ken had three daughters, and Emily was his youngest and the only one with red hair. He’d even introduced his wif-fiancée to them and took her to have dinner with them and their wives—it was nice.

He tried to reach out to Sal, but the other man was a part of the Special Forces in the army and had spent more time deployed than at home since Desert Storm—Benito and Ken said he was okay, or as okay as a guy can be after spending so many years in active duty. It made Javier feel like a real asshole for avoiding them for so long when they’d just wanted to be there for him like they were for Sal, who’d been through more dangerous and worse shit than him.

By no means were he and his old friends back to having the tight bond they shared when they were twenty-two or had anything close to his relationship with Steve—they’d grown too far apart and were virtually strangers now. That didn’t mean it wasn’t great to hang out with people who knew him before Lorraine and hadn’t taken her side or were judgemental of the choices he made.

“Big tantrum?” Benito asked.

“A complete meltdown. You’re gonna love havin’ kids, Jav.” Ken patted him on the shoulder.

“They have their moments,” Benito added, “pero, dios mio, mi vida no sería la misma sin ellos (but, my god, my life wouldn’t be the same without them). I love my little terrors.” He had five children; his littlest wasn’t even a year old.

“Yeah,” Javier said fondly. “I’m really fucking excited to have kids and get married.”

The other two men were smiling.

“And that’s how it always should’ve been,” Ken replied. “That’s how we know you’re marryin’ the right girl this time. It’s great to see how happy you are—and Benny and I can tell you’re actually happy.”

“Yeah,” Benito said, “‘Cause you’re smiling this time around and not crying—that stripper, though, what was her name? Diamond? Ruby? Shit, what was it?”

“Jade, maybe?” Ken answered. “You should remember, Benny, you’re the one she took home.”

“I can remember her amazing tits and ass, but couldn’t tell you what the hell she looked like or her name.”

Javier couldn’t remember what she looked like or her name either, which made him frown.

“Do you guys have that one woman you can remember every fucking detail about the first time you hooked up?” Benito asked. “She haunts you—I’m talking her face is burned in your brain, and you can remember everything like what she smelled like or how soft her skin was?”

“Yeah,” Ken said. “That girl, my third year in college.” He raised his beer bottle.

“The one who deepthroated you for the first time? You wouldn’t shut up about her.”

“That’s the one—too bad she wasn’t lookin’ for anythin’ serious. Best sex I’ve ever had; don’t tell my wife that.” Ken and Benito chuckled.

“Mine was Carmen’s roommate.” Carmen was Benito’s wife and someone they went to school with. “We had a casual thing before I started dating Carmen—her name was Valentina, and mi mamá would not have liked her, which was fine; she wasn’t wife material anyway.”

What did he mean by that?

“What about you, Javi?” Ken asked.

“I’m marrying mine,” he answered and took a drink of his beer.

Benito scoffed. “Are you just saying that shit, or do you mean it?”

He met the other man’s eyes.

“I’m being completely serious. She’s it, and I’m marrying her.”

Benito blew out air, shaking his head. “You lucky pendejo (asshole).”

“Now you gotta tell us what she’s like,” Ken said, and this conversation just took a turn in a direction he did not want to go in—even when he was younger, he didn’t like to brag about what went on in the bedroom.

Javier had never been happier for his cell phone to ring, but the feeling only lasted a moment as he pulled it off his belt before panic slammed into him that something was wrong because it was Cielito calling him. She was out having her bachelorette party with her girlfriends at the town bar.

“I gotta take this,” he said, setting his beer on the ground and groaning as he got up from his chair. He briskly walked out of earshot of everyone else.

His heart was pounding a mile a minute. He hit the accept button and answered when the Nokia phone was at his ear, “Hello?”

“Ohhh myyy god,” his wif-fiancée slurred on the other end. “How do you make ans’ring the phone sooo sexy?”

He let out a breath that she didn’t sound like she was in trouble.

“I don’t know—are you okay, baby?”

"Nooo, I miss you, and I wan’ you and I need you to come ge’ me—can you pleeease come ge’ me? I don' wanna be out anymore—I wanna be at home with you and naked in our bed; wait, have I told you how amazing you fuck? If there-was like an Olympics for fucking, you'd ge’ all the gold medals tha’s how good you are.” She inhaled before she continued speaking. “And your face, god, I miss your stupidly han’some face with your big baby cow eyes tha’ Daphne and Velma totally inherited from you, and tha’ gorgeous nose, and your lips—everything on tha’ mug of yours is perfec,’ and I canno’ believe you’re marrying me. Me?! How the fuck did I ge’ so lucky?! Like, you’re too pretty for me, and usu’lly, the pretty boys jus’ wan’ my family’s money—like fucking Daniel,” she fumed. “But you jus’ like me for me, and I’m sooo in love with you tha’ I canno’ stand bein’ so far away from you righ’ now. Javiii, can you pleeease come pick me up?"

Oh, she was drunk and missed him.

With how sloshed she sounded, it had him worried she hadn’t eaten much food or had enough water, and he wanted to go to her right that second to get her home and sober her up so she wasn’t too miserable the next day. He was trying to ignore what she said about her ex, but the more he learned about the guy, the higher the chances rose that he’d kick the fucker’s ass if they ever met.

"Are you sure you want to leave early?" he asked.

"Yesss, pleeease. I wanna go home wit’ you."

"Are you somewhere safe, cariño (sweetheart)?" It didn’t sound like she was inside the bar.

“I’m ou’side the backdoor where people smoke—Stacy and Arleta from the grocery store are ou’ here wit’ meee. Say hi to Javi!”

He could tell she held the phone toward them.

“Hi, Javi,” he heard the two women say. “Are you coming to ge’ me?” Cielito asked.

“Yes, mi amor. I just need to tell everyone bye—don’t hang up.”

He didn't as he quickly walked over to say goodbye and thank his dad, friends, and family for the lovely night, telling them his fiancée wasn't feeling good and he needed to go pick her up—the plan had always been he’d be her designated driver since he hadn’t wanted to drink too much; the rest of the people at her party had their own rides.

His long legs had him striding toward where his pickup was parked.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked her.

His truck door squealed as he opened it and got inside.

“Yesss! There was karaoke and I had a lot of tequila. Like a lot. Like sooo much, I sang “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic withou’ anyone daring me to—tha’ movie is sooo fucking sad. If we were in the freezing water and you pu’ me on a door or whatever piece of wood, you beh your ass I’m gonna figure ou’ a way to ge’ you on it with me. I’m not gonna be a fucking liar and say I won’ leggo and fucking leggo! You’re gonna be like nex’ to me, or hell, you could ge’ on top of me, and we’d survive—I’d make sure we both survived.”

She made him smile because this wasn’t the first time she’d gone on this rant.

He was already on the road heading toward town.

“I’d make sure we survived, too, baby. I’d use my body heat to keep you warm.”

“Why is tha’ sooo romantic? Honestly, I think you’d figure ou’ a way to ge’ us into one of the lifeboats.”

“Probably.” He shrugged.

“And then we’d ge’ to Amer’ca and start our new life together and have sooo many babies.”

He was still smiling. “Yeah—so many babies?”

“It was ye olden times when the only thing women could do was take care of their husbands and babies, plus there was basic’ly no birth control and you only cream pie, sooo yeah, we’d hav’ a ridic’lous amoun’ of babies.”

“I wanna have a ridiculous amount of babies with you now.”

“God, I know you do, and I wanna have all your babies, all of them, ‘cause you’re gonna be the bes’ dad. Like, the bes’, and our kids will be sooo lucky to have you, and they’re gonna love you sooo much and be so cute—I hope they look like you—you were sush a cutie, and I’d love to have a bunch of mini yous.”

“I want them to look like the both of us.”

“Meh, you’re cuter.”

“Stop that, you’re fucking adorable, and I’d love if our kids looked like you.”

“Fine.”

“Why’d you drink so much tequila, mi amor? That stuff makes us—”

“Horny?” she finished for him. “Our clothes magic’ly disappear.” Her speech was still slurring. “Robyn got us Tequila Sunrises, then Cat—” That was the wife of one of her coworkers at the hospital; they hung out with the couple occasionally. “—got us another round of them, bu’ Alma—” His prima (cousin) and sister of Sebastián. “—got us all tequila shots, and I also got us tequila shots, and I think there was another round—too much tequila, whish is why I called you to pick me up.”

His mouth turned down in a frown.

“Please tell me you had some food, too, and water.”

“Yesss, I knew you’d worry, so I ate a plate of fries and shared mozz-mozzarella.” She giggled. “Tha’s a fun word to say—I shared mozzarella sticks with the girls, and I drank water—had a glass aft’r ev’ry drink ‘cause I was-like, ‘If my Javi were here righ’ now, he’d wan’ me staying hydrated,’ and I couldn’ le’ you down.”

He smiled. “Thank you, baby. I’m proud of you.”

There was someone in the background who sounded just as drunk as her, asking her, “Wha’ are you doin’ out here?” It was Robyn.

“Calling Javi,” Cielito answered.

“Come back inside. You said you were goin’ pee.”

“I wen’ and Javi’s comin’ to pick me up. I’m waitin’ for him to ge’ here.”

“Girl, it’s barely pas’ midnigh’, and your bachelorette party! Leave the man alone and have fun with us! We’ll get pie after here at the diner.” It was open twenty-four hours.

“I need him,” she whined.

“Oh my god, you’re ditchin’ us for dick!”

“It’s really good dick, and I need it!”

“Mi amor?” Javi said to get her attention.

“Yes?” she answered.

“I’m not gonna fool around with you while you’re fucked up…”

“I know,” she whispered. “Don’ tell anyone, bu’ I’m too drunk, and I hate it. I wanna go home.”

“Okay, cariño (sweetheart). I’ll be there soon to pick you up.”

Another voice was heard on her end. “Why are you guys ou’ here?” He was pretty sure it was his prima, Alma.

“She’s ditchin’ us for dick!” Robyn exclaimed.

“I told you it’s really good dick!” Cielito said just as loud.

“Gross!” Alma was slurring her words, too, and sounded disgusted. “You’re gonna-make-me puke!”

“Sorry, Alma,” the other two women replied in unison.

“It’s okay,” Alma said. “You’re leaving already? I don’ wan’ you to go. We’re having so mush fun!”

“Yeah, don’ go!” He thought that was Cat. “This is the only night I can go ou’ alone this month! Le’s keep partying!”

“I’m sorry, guys,” Cielito responded. “Tequila was a mistake, and I need to go home.”

Javier figured she’d forgotten he was on the phone with her.

“I’m horny, too,” Robyn said, “bu’ you don’ see me booty callin’ my boyfriend to ge’ me, and he’s got really good dick, too!”

“¡Guácala (Gross)!” Alma interjected. “No sé por qué salgo contigo (I don’t know why I hang out with you).”

“Because we’re fun!” Robyn said. “Don’ lie, you loved it when I got our bride-to-be to rap “Shoop” with me.” Javier only knew that Salt-N-Pepa song because he’d heard his bride-to-be rap it on many occasions—she was really good, to be honest.

“You are fun, bu’ who wan’s to hear about their brother and cousin’s sex lives?”

“Sorry, Alma,” Robyn and Cielito said again.

“You all can still have fun withou’ me!” his wif-fiancée told them.

“A bachelorette party withou’ a bachelorette?” Robyn asked.

“I think that jus’ makes it a girls' night out—yeah, you can have a girls' night out! Fuck, where’s Javi? Did I tell you guys he’s comin’ to ge’ me? Wait, my phone! Javi, are you still there?”

“Yes, baby, I’m still here.”

“Where are you?”

“Maybe ten minutes away.”

“Ugh, okay.” She whispered the next bit loudly, “Robyn’s mad at me.”

“Damn straigh,’ I’m mad at you!” Robyn said. “It’s your bachelorette party, and you’re abandonin’ us for a man!”

“But he’s like a really grea’ man, and wonderful, and han’some, and the bes’, and I love him so, so, so, sooo, mush and wanna have his babies. So, I’m not abandonin’ you for ‘a man,’ I’m abandonin’ you for the greates’ man alive, and you can’ be mad at me for tha’.”

What she said had Javier grinning.

“Y’all are too disgustingly in love, but wha’ever, nex’ girls' night, no fuckin’ tequila.”

She forgot he was on the phone with her again and listened to their drunken discussion about what they should do for a girls' night, going off topic a few times. Her friends stayed with her until he arrived.

He pulled into the parking lot and stopped at the back of the building where he saw the group of women and some other bar patrons hanging out by the door, the area lit by two lights on the building.

“Cielito?” he said, hoping it’d get her attention. “Are you still there?”

“Oh my god, Javi!” Came her exclamation. “Where are you?!”

The truck was put into park, and he kept it idling as he got out.

“To your left.”

Her head turned to the right, making him snort with a smile on his lips.

“Your other left, mi amor,” he said. He’d walked around to open the passenger door, and her gaze finally landed on him under the orangeish glow of a towering street light.

“He’s here!” she squealed, and he ended the call, putting his phone back on his belt. He watched her shove her own in her purse before she hugged all of her friends goodbye.

Javier had seen the dress she was going to wear tonight; he just hadn’t seen her wearing it. When she turned his way and he got a good look at her, his mouth fell open, and he thought his heart would beat out of his chest like a cartoon character in love.

The champagne-colored mini dress was long-sleeved and covered in sequins, the neckline plunging to accentuate her breasts, the skirt ending just a little above her knees, a white sash across her chest reading in fancy black script, ‘Bride-to-Be,’ and she looked fucking stunning.

His awe ended when he suddenly had to act fast and catch the woman he loved who flung herself into his arms—he grunted at her body slamming into him, her lips crashing into his, wrapping his arms around her back to feel her skin from the deep V down her back.

The smell of booze hit him almost as hard as she did, along with the undertones of her perfume, Javier tensing when she grabbed his ass. With how she was hitching her leg up on his waist, he thought she was trying to climb him like a goddamn tree.

“Mmm… hi, baby,” his muffled voice said.

His hand went to her face, his thumb under her chin, and fingers splayed along her cheek as he gently pushed to separate her mouth from his. Her eyelids were closed, and her lips pursed.

“Hi, baby,” he said again. “Did you miss me?”

She smiled. “Yesss.” Her glassy, bloodshot eyes blinked open, and it was obvious she was utterly blitzed; there was no way in hell she could pass a field sobriety test. “God, you’re sooo gorgeous—look at your cute nose—” She poked the tip of it. “—boop. Your eyes are sooo pretty, and you smell sooo good—you always smell so fucking good. I love you so, sooo much.” She pecked him on the lips. “I’m sooo happy you’re here.”

She looked so cute and it had him smiling.

“Yeah?” He shrugged off his jacket and put it over her shoulders.

“Mmm, tha’s nice and warm. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Cielito. You ready to go?”

“Oh my god, yesss!”

“Okay, let’s get you into the truck, hermosa (beautiful).”

He helped her get up into the cab, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, he was in the driver’s seat, with her pressed right against him.

“I’m sooo happy we’re going home,” she said, hugging his arm closest to her.

“I’m happy we’re going home, too, Cielito—let’s get you buckled.”

He leaned over her to grab the seatbelt, getting it over her lap and buckling it in, ensuring it wasn’t loose, before getting his own belt on.

The short drive to their apartment had her in his space, kissing his cheek and neck while telling him how much she loved him, and it was so sweet that warmth spread through his body.

When they arrived, Javier had to keep her steady as they walked with an arm around her waist, making her lean into him. Once inside, he propped her against the front door to remove his coat from her shoulders and her sash, hanging them with the other jackets on the wall. Then, he pulled her purse from her arm, putting it on the console table, and he helped her remove the flats on her feet, kicking off his shoes afterward.

Her eyes were closed most of the time while she mumbled, a lot of it he didn’t understand, but what he did make out was her confessing her love for him and waxing poetic about how attractive she found him—it was adorable.

He wanted to get her sober, so he helped steady her as they made their way to the kitchen, moving past the counters and appliances to the small connected dining room and having her sit in a kitchen chair, pushing her close to the table in order to keep her from falling onto the floor.

Javier’s palm rubbed circles into her back. “Cielito?”

Her head tilted up in his direction, looking at him with red, glossy eyes and a big, dreamy smile.

“You’re pretty.” Her speech wasn’t slurring as much. “And you’re marrying me. I can’t believe you’re marrying me. We should blow this popsicle stand and go back to our place to have premarital sex—gotta do as much of that as we can before we’re married and our sexy times become legal.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean by the sex becoming legal?” he asked.

“You know, sex is only legal to God when the couple is married—we won’t be living in sin anymore; gosh, that’s gonna make your dad sooo happy. I love your dad. He’s the fucking best. Let's make him your mom’s flan next weekend ‘cause that dude deserves it—man, I’m hungry.”

“We’ll make him flan, baby.” His hand cupped her cheek. “Can I make you some buttered toast?” That seemed like a safe choice and shouldn’t make her sick.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, toast sounds fucking amazing!”

He smiled. “Okay, mi amor. I’ll make you some.”

Javier bent to kiss the top of her head before padding into the kitchen.

Making her two slices of toast and having her eat them, along with drinking a large glass of water, didn’t take too long—there were a few times he had to remind her about the bread because she was so chatty; at one point she went on an entertaining tangent about how those mythical half horse, half human creatures, centaurs, would wear pants, and even made him tear off a page from the notepad on the fridge, so she could draw him visuals on why the correct answer was the pants would go on the back part of their horse body.

Jesus Christ, he was so fucking in love with her.

He felt better after she finished her snack and drink with how her speech sounded clearer and that she didn’t seem as fucked up as when she called him from the bar—she was definitely still a little drunk since she couldn’t walk without stumbling, and her eyes were having a hard time staying open.

His next priority was making her comfortable. He led her to the bedroom, where he carefully replaced her dress and bra with his olive green t-shirt, leaving her in the shirt and her cute cotton panties she already had on that were covered in red hearts.

He took her to the bathroom, where he sat her up on the countertop and stood between her legs to keep her in place.

“Cielito,” he said, grabbing a wet wipe, “I’m gonna clean off your makeup, okay?”

There was a big smile on her face, her eyelids shut. “Mmmkay, you’re sooo nice.”

He pressed it to her face to begin removing her makeup. When that was done, he used a warm washcloth to dampen the skin he’d cleaned and grabbed her face wash off the counter, which was amongst her other skincare products. He used his fingertips to apply it to her skin, starting with her cheeks, then down her jaw to her chin, and back up to spread it along her nose before doing her forehead last.

He used the wet cloth to wipe away the cleanser when she spoke.

“Did you just wash my face?” she asked.

“Yeah?” He’d finished, and her skin was finally completely clean and looking dewy. Her face wash was put away, and his eyes squinted as he read the labels of the other products until he found what he needed and picked it up. He’d seen her do her skincare routine more times than he could count and had the basics down; the serums and special creams intimidated him, though.

His fingers were massaging the moisturizer into her skin along the same path they’d taken with the cleanser.

“Is that moisturizer?”

“Yes.”

Her breath stuttered, her mouth turning into a frown, and he matched her look.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, leaning toward the sink when he was done to wash his hands. He then dried them with the towel on his other side hanging on the wall.

Her bottom lip was trembling, and it worried him.

“You love me,” she whispered.

“I do,” he said and kissed her forehead. “I love you so fucking much.” His hands rubbed over her bare thighs.

She opened her eyes, and they were welling up, glistening under the lights above.

“You love me,” she repeated.

He held her cheeks. “Yes, sweetheart, I love you—I love you more than anything.”

Her voice was so small. “Why doesn’t my family love me?” With tears rolling down her face, her question shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“Oh, Cielito, baby.” His tone was soft, and he wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her tight, her face going into the crook of his neck. “They’re assholes and they don’t deserve you.”

Her body started shaking with sobs, and it had his chest squeezing tight, his eyes getting watery, wishing with every cell of his being to make her feel better.

She was the strongest and bravest woman he knew, who didn’t like to show any sign of weakness, and ever since her parents’ unexpected and unwanted visit earlier in the week, she had acted like she was fine in an attempt to hide her sadness.

The day after he was offered a large sum of money to leave her, they’d gone over to his father’s to use the fax machine in his office—the office was in its own little building across the driveway from his house—and she faxed Jerry, her parents’ lawyer, a typed letter that conveyed her disappointment in how they acted and also told them to never contact her again which she signed at the bottom. She changed her home and cell phone numbers and discussed with him possibly moving to the ranch earlier than they originally planned.

He’d tried to talk to her about everything, but she’d put on this smile he knew wasn’t genuine by the lack of its usual luster, and she was unable to keep the sorrow from showing in her eyes—it killed him how her usual happy glow had dimmed from her hurt. She’d reassure him she was okay, reminding him that her family made their choice and had to live with the consequences of it, but she also had to live with the consequences of their actions and deal with the emotions of never seeing or speaking to her loved ones again. He was expecting the façade to break at some point, and it took inebriation to cause her carefully crafted walls to finally crumble.

To add salt to their wounds, Javier was served at work the following day after the fax was sent, with a lawsuit for breach of contract from her mom and dad.

What were they trying to sue him for? Going against his word to not tell their daughter about their visit and proposition, thus breaching a verbal contract that was made. He’d laughed as he called Chucho’s attorney because they never fucking agreed with his terms and, instead, had countered with the damn prenup. They didn’t have a fucking case, and it was dropped by the next day.

Javier was so unbelievably pissed off at these people for what they’d done to the woman he loved that he knew there was no way in hell he’d ever be able to have a civil conversation with them again. It was possible it’d turn into a physical altercation, and he’d end up in jail, which he honestly thought would be worth it if he got the chance to punch her dad in his stupid fucking face.

“They’re my family,” she choked out, “they’re supposed to love me—why don’t they love me? Why am I so unlovable?”

“Mi amor, you’re not unlovable—I love you, Pop loves you, my tías (aunts), tíos (uncles), and primos (cousins) love you, Robyn loves you, mi mamá loves you—you’re loved. We love you, baby. Those people you’re related to are shitty and so blinded by their obsession with money and how they’re perceived that they wouldn’t know what unconditional love was if it bit them in the ass. They’re horrible fucking people, and you don’t need them, Cielito. You don’t.”

“But they’re my family!” she cried. Her tears were soaking through his shirt. “It doesn’t feel right that they aren’t going to be at our wedding, and it hurts so fucking much that they don’t support us!”

He kissed her hair, rubbing circles on her back with his palm. “I know, cariño (sweetheart). I know you’re hurt and that it’s fucked they won’t be there.” It was hard for him to swallow around the lump that’d formed, his eyes burning, and he squeezed them shut. “I’m sorry you fell in love with me and that I’m not good enough for them or good enough for you. I’m sorry for causing all this shit and the pain you’re feeling. I’m sorry, baby—it’s all my fault,” his voice cracked on the last word. He had to clear his throat. “But I’d do it all again because you deserve to be loved—you deserve all the fucking love in the world. Your family is supposed to love you because they’re your family, and our kids will love you no matter what because you’re their amazing mom, but me? I’m choosing to love you with every fucking thing I have because you’re incredible and so lovable.” His cheeks were wet from his own tears. “I love you, Cielito—I promise I’ll love you enough to make up for them. I promise I’ll love you so much you’ll get sick of me. I love you, Cielito. You’re my everything, and I hope my love’s enough…”

She sniffled loudly, her head rising, and he opened his eyes to meet her reddened ones, her face streaked with wetness.

Her voice was hoarse. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her hands in the small space between their bodies, clutching his button-up shirt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, and you’re enough—you’ve always been enough. It just hurts how hateful the people who are supposed to want me to be happy are toward what makes me happy.” More tears fell down her cheeks. “You’re what makes me happy, and they don’t accept you.” Her lower lip was wobbling. “I’m mad and sad, and I don’t want them to be a part of our lives, but it feels… it feels like they’ve died,” she said quietly. “It feels weird grieving over people who are still breathing, who are just a phone call or a plane ride away. I’m grieving them like they’re dead—are they dead to me? Why am I grieving what little relationship we had, yet also grieving the relationship we could’ve had? One where they welcomed you with open arms, and even if it wasn’t your favorite thing to do, we visited them once a year—you’d joke around with my brother, we’d fawn over his many children, and my parents would actually be impressed with what you did in Colombia and brag to their friends about their son-in-law who helped take down Pablo fucking Escobar and did take out the Cali cartel. Why am I so fucking sad about living people and a fantasy?”

He stroked his fingers along her cheek to cup it. “I don’t remember much from my mother’s funeral ‘cause my head was pretty fucked up, but there was something the Priest said that stuck with me. ‘Grief is just all the love you had for someone that suddenly has nowhere to go.’ So, it collects inside you, makes your chest ache, and leaks from your eyes—it fills all the places that were left empty by their loss. I’ll always feel my mom here—” He put a hand over his heart. “—but over time, a lot of my grief slowly disappeared, and you’ve made it easier to live with what’s left.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t think what you’re feeling is weird. They might be alive, but you lost the only family you’ve ever known and are grieving the death of your relationship with them—now there’s all that love you still have for them that has no place to go, so it’s filling the emptiness they left behind, and it’s gonna take some time to heal.” He held her face in both of his hands. “It’s okay that you're sad, Cielito, but you don’t need to hide it from me or pretend that you’re okay because I know you’re not, and I don’t want you going through this alone. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on; I’ll hold you or talk things out with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help ease your pain. Just please don’t shut me out.”

She was frowning, her eyes darting away as she spoke softly, “I knew if you saw I was upset, it’d make you sad, and I didn’t wanna make you sad so close to our wedding—this should be a happy time for us, but all I wanna do is lay in the dark and cry.”

“Baby?” His finger went under her chin to make her look at him, their gazes meeting. “Don’t worry about my feelings, and let me be there for you—I’d rather be sad with you than have you suffer alone in silence. Now, let me get you to bed so I can hold you while you cry.”

Her smile was small, and her eyes were glossy with tears. “I’d like that.” Suddenly, she looked panicked, her hand going to her mouth. “Move,” said her muffled voice. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Shit.” He immediately helped her off the counter, for her to stumble the handful of steps and drop to her knees in front of the toilet, where she did, in fact, get sick.

It took a lot to gross out Javier—he grew up on a ranch, where he witnessed animal births and deaths regularly. Combine that with the horrible things he’d seen in Colombia, someone throwing up was a welcome change.

“Oh, mi probecita (my poor thing),” he said, spinning around to the wall opposite the bathroom vanity to get a small rag from the linen closet before moving back to the sink to wet it with cold water. “Déjame cuidarte, Cielito (Let me take care of you, Cielito). Sé que no te gusta enfermarte (I know you don’t like getting sick).”

She’d told him that when she had a little too much fun at a party playing drinking games with his primos (cousins) and found herself on his old bathroom floor, hugging porcelain with Javier there for support—they’d ended up being too drunk to drive home and spent the night in his childhood bed.

He wrung out the washcloth and walked over to her, a grunt leaving him and knees popping as he lowered himself to kneel next to her. He pressed the cloth to the back of her neck with one hand while the other rubbed comforting circles over her spine.

His tone was warm and gentle. “Get it all out, baby. I know it’s awful, and you hate it, but it’ll make you feel better.”

It didn’t take long for her stomach to empty and her heaving to stop. Her breaths were coming out ragged, and Javier took care of flushing the toilet. He scooted back and pulled her with him, the tiled floor cool underneath them, until he had room to stretch out his legs in front of him while she sat between them with her spine to his chest, her eyes closed.

He held the wet cloth to her forehead, the fingers of his free hand laced with hers, and kissed her hair.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered.

“I’m never drinking again,” she mumbled.

He huffed amusedly and smiled, placing a kiss behind her ear.

“Liar,” he said. “You said that last time you drank too much.”

“I mean it this time.”

“Uh-huh, right.”

“I do—this is embarrassing.”

“I think it’s good practice.”

He knew the look on her face was one of confusion without seeing it. “Practice for what?”

“If you get morning sickness.” He kissed the side of her neck.

“Oh, god,” she whined. “Why can’t we be seahorses?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Seahorses?”

“Yeah, male seahorses do the whole pregnancy and birth thing—that’s the fucking dream.”

He thought about it for a second, taking into account how badly he wanted kids, and it was really fucking weird to say this out loud, “If I could… I’d, uh, do that for us…”

He could hear her smiling. “You’d have my babies?”

Javier inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “...yes.”

“I know the scenario is weirding you out, and it’s sweet of you to say you would, but I’m not sure if, given the opportunity, you’d actually do it—which is fine. Pregnancy and childbirth are scary, and it just proves that mothers are more badass than fathers.”

“You’re definitely more badass than me.”

“I appreciate you saying that, man who literally hunted bad guys for a living and had a bounty on his head.”

“You are, and since you’re taking the brunt of everything for us to have a kid, I promise I’ll do whatever possible, so all you’ll have to worry about is growing our baby and working.” She’d made it clear that when she got pregnant, she was still going to work until either the baby was born or the Doctor told her to stop.

“You know, I think we’re gonna crush being married and becoming parents.”

He smiled. “We are because we’re equals, even if you’re more badass than me.”

“We are equals, and thank you for acknowledging my badassery, man who helped eliminate two of the biggest cartels in the world.”

He snorted. “Smartass. How are you feeling?”

“A little drunk, sad, and I’ve got the spins.”

“Do you still feel sick?”

“Not really—just dizzy.”

“Do you want me to help you brush your teeth and then get you comfortable in bed?”

“That actually sounds wonderful because my mouth feels icky, and I’d like to cuddle.”

“Okay, mi amor.”

He started to move, but she stopped him with her hand on his arm as she said, “Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“You’re worth it.”

“Worth what…?”

“The pain and sadness over my family. You bring me so much love and happiness that I know it’ll outshine the hurt in no time, and this low I’m in is only temporary. You’re worth it and more than enough—your love is all I need. I love you.”

His throat was feeling tight, and he spoke softly. “I love you, too.” His arms went around her middle, and he didn’t squeeze as he hugged her to not hurt her stomach. He still wanted to hold her, his chin resting on her shoulder and their heads touching. “I’m happy I’m worth it to you, and just know that I’m yours; I’m here for you—good, bad, it doesn’t fucking matter because I’m not going anywhere, and we’ll get through anything together.” His lips pressed to her hair. “I tell you I love you a lot, but I hope you understand that I love you more than words can accurately describe—I love you, Cielito. I love you, and I promise I’ll be yours forever.”

Her hand came up behind her to press her fingers into his hair. “Yeah, we’re gonna crush being husband and wife.”

She made him smile. “Less than seventy-two hours, Mrs. Peña.”

“And I can’t fucking wait, Mr. Peña.”

The town of Laredo was buzzing with the news Javier Peña was getting married—yes, the same Javier Peña who left his first bride at the altar, had tumbled in the hay with many of the girls he’d gone to school with, and was apparently some kind of lothario in South America.

It really bothered you how fucking interested and judgmental the townspeople were of his sex life.

Your wedding with him was all anyone could talk about, and the bar was even taking bets on whether or not he’d disappear again, which was fucked up, but Chucho gladly put five hundred dollars on his son marrying you because he knew it was easy money. There was so much interest in how things would turn out that people you either barely knew or had never met approached you both like they were old friends of Javi’s to try and get invites—they were politely rejected with the excuse there wasn’t enough room.

According to Robyn, your wedding had the same amount of hype as your fiancé’s first, and though Javi hated that, you really hoped it annoyed the fuck out of his ex.

When you discussed how you wanted to tie the knot, your husband-to-be agreed the ceremony should be attended by a select few, and afterward, there’d be a big party to celebrate with the rest of your friends and family. Once the date was decided, the planning started immediately since there was so little time.

Chucho and his sisters would make a killing as wedding planners. They sat you and Javi down to get an idea of what you wanted the party to be like, a color scheme, and a budget, then told you guys not to worry and that they’d take care of everything. All the two of you had to do was approve things, hand over cash, and get your rings, which wasn’t too much of a hassle since you wanted simple matching gold bands.

Something you loved about the family you were marrying into was how they were all there for each other and so tight-knit—your fiancé's dad and tías managed to get all that was needed in less than a month with the help of his primos, and by calling in favors from their friends.

Javier and you didn't want anything extravagant. The party would occur in Chucho's backyard, under a giant white pole tent. Tables, chairs, and a dance floor had to be rented, and it was highway robbery how much the local place wanted to charge—Lorraine’s family frequently used them for their events, and you wouldn’t put it past her father to be the cause of such an exorbitant price just to spite Javi for wasting the absurd amount of money he spent on Lorraine’s first wedding. Luckily, on such short notice, tía Lupita’s oldest son, Matías, had a friend who knew a guy an hour away in Zapata who ran a party rental store and could get them everything at a reasonable price.

The tías, along with their daughters/daughters in law were handling food; Anna, who was friends with Javi in high school, had a bakery and was taking care of making the cake and Mexican wedding cookies that were tiny, buttery, ball-shaped, melt-in-your-mouth, powdered sugar-covered cookies, dotted with crushed nuts like pecans, walnuts, and almonds, and traditionally served at weddings and Christmas; tío Ángel and tía María’s husband were in charge of getting alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, and Ángel’s youngest son Diego was going to DJ, as it was his side hustle and he’d been paid to do gigs at other parties in town and in a couple of big city clubs.

An hour and a half before you were to be wed, practically every family member of Javi's who lived locally was at the ranch. Many had been there all day setting up the backyard or in the kitchen making food, and every time you tried to help cook, you were shooed away, but your presence was wanted outside to instruct those putting things together on how to arrange and decorate everything inside and out of the tent, and that ended up being what you did until it was time to start getting ready.

Most of Javier’s family and you were there, yet your groom was nowhere to be found and hadn’t set foot on the property in a good sixteen hours.

In that time, you hadn’t seen or talked to him either, and your last interaction was the previous night when he dropped you off at his dad’s—that’s where you spent the night, and thank goodness, Chucho had already gone to sleep when Javi helped you get settled in his old room, because he had a hard time leaving and it led to him fucking you slow and passionately in his ridiculously squeaky bed one last time.

Why were you staying at the ranch? The two of you, encouraged by Javi’s dad, made the decision not to see each other on the day of your nuptials. Since your almost father-in-law would be driving you to where the ceremony was taking place, it made sense for you to sleepover and get ready at his house—the moment Javi left you there in his room that smelled like him, under his sheets that smelled like him, in one of his white t-shirts that smelled like him, you realized it was going to be really difficult and a test of your strength to be away from him for so long, and you both knew, if you spoke even a single word over the phone, the resolve between you would shatter, and he’d be back at Chucho’s for you in record time.

That led to the lack of communication and him getting ready alone at your shared apartment.

You were sitting in a kitchen chair you’d brought into Javi’s old bathroom, wearing a white satin robe cinched tight over your clean body, fresh from the shower and the special undergarments you'd chosen for the big day. Robyn was in front of you in her matching black robe as she did your makeup, something she offered to do and you happily accepted due to how good she was at it. She'd already smoothed out your complexion and hid any imperfections; currently, she was working on your eye shadow.

"Between you and Javi," she said, her attention focused on what she was doing, "your kids are gonna have some pretty eyes."

You smiled. "I think his eyes are prettier, and just imagine tiny versions of them; they'll give me the sad puppy dog eyes, and I'll have no choice but to give them whatever they want."

She giggled. "Your babies will be spoiled."

"I have already accepted that fact—hopefully, they'll take after their dad and be spoiled, but sweet, caring, and well-behaved, and not some little assholes." You frowned. "My brother was a spoiled asshole."

She paused what she was doing to meet your eyes. "Hey, now, we agreed not to think or speak about those people today. We aren't lettin' them sour the best day of your life so far."

"I know," you sighed.

It was the right choice to sever your ties with your family, and you had no regrets; that didn't mean it wasn't hard or hurt any less. Especially today, with it being your wedding day—your mom wasn’t there to help you get ready, nor your dad for a father-daughter dance. They should’ve been there supporting you on the happiest day of your life. Instead, they destroyed whatever relationship you had with them, and it hurt a lot. Even suspecting for years that they had no love for you didn't ease much of the pain of discovering it was true. You felt stupid for caring about these people when they cared so little for you, and you weren't sure why you hadn't cut them out sooner. Was it naively thinking they'd change? Or the ingrained notion that even if you didn't like them, you had to suck it up because they were your family?

It didn't matter now because what they'd done and how they treated the man you loved was unforgivable. There was no chance in hell you’d ever trust them again, and you didn’t want the new life you were starting with Javi to be tainted by their toxicity.

Robyn's cell phone was sitting on the bathroom counter next to your open makeup bag, and it started ringing—nobody wanted to bother you while you got ready, so Robyn was made the point of contact to either deal with what was going on or talk it out with you.

She straightened and turned around to pick it up.

"Why's he callin’?" she mumbled, hitting the accept button and putting the phone to her ear. "What's shakin' bacon? Robyn speakin,’" she answered. "...yes," she told them, "I'm doin' her makeup right now... No... No, you can't... Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? No one is supposed to see her before the wedding... You're a fuckin' liar, and Chucho wouldn’t let you in here anyway... You're ridiculous," she said in exasperation. "But if you swear, on your mama's grave, you won't peek, then I'll allow it... Okay, fine. Give us a sec, then quietly knock—I don't want anyone knowin' you’re here... bye."

She set the phone down and the eyeshadow palette, spinning on her heel to face you and grab your hand.

"Was that who I think it was?" you asked.

She was smiling. "If you’re thinkin’ someone annoyin’ who could get me in more trouble than an armadillo on the highway with your father-in-law, yes—come with me."

Robyn tugged you up to stand and led you into the bedroom, where you both came to a stop.

There were two large windows on the opposite wall beside each side of the bed, sitting half a foot above the floor with closed blinds and red curtains over them. A soft knocking sounded on the one in front of you. You followed Robyn and watched her push apart the curtains, pulling on the string to raise the blinds. Her body blocked your view as she unlocked the window and shoved it up.

"How many fingers am I holdin' up?" she asked the person outside.

"I don't know," Javi answered. "I can't see shit with this thing on."

The sound of his voice had your heart beating faster.

"Good," Robyn said, moving out of your way to look at you.

With the window's position, you could only see your fiancé from the thighs up, wearing black tuxedo pants and a white long-sleeved dress shirt tucked into them. Your sleep mask covered his eyes, and there was a loose regular tie and bow tie around his neck that matched the color of his slacks, the ends of each resting over both sides of his chest. Aside from his perfectly trimmed mustache, his face was freshly shaved, and he looked unbelievably handsome as always.

"This annoyin' man—" Robyn pointed at him with her thumb. "—says it's an emergency—he needs you to tell him how you want his hair done and which tie you’d like."

It made you smile because his hair was already how you wanted it—you had given him a haircut a couple of days ago, so the sides looked nice and clean cut down, and he combed the longer top and bangs to swoop over to the other side of his head, holding it all in place with his favorite pomade, that kept his hair soft.

He also knew damn well which tie you’d chosen.

It had you feeling gooey that he couldn't wait any longer to see you.

You walked toward him, and Robyn made herself scarce by disappearing into the bathroom. At the window, you got down on your knees to make it easier to talk to him, Javier still standing above you with his height.

"An emergency, huh?" you asked, and he smiled. Taking his outstretched hand, you guided him closer.

“Are we alone?" he countered

His palms began mapping your body, sliding over your arms and shoulders and along your neck up to your head, where he avoided your face but carefully felt your ears and hair.

"Yep."

“You feel beautiful.”

Air huffed from your nose in amusement. “Well, you look handsome, even without being fully dressed.” You rubbed your hands up his thighs to rest them on his tiny hips. “Your hair looks perfect,” you continued. “Did you really forget which tie I wanted?”

He smirked. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was the only way I knew I could get Robyn to betray Pop’s orders and let me see you; well, talk to you.”

Your eyebrows creased. “Orders? What orders?”

“He might’ve made it sound like a suggestion, the whole us not seeing each other today, but Pop is super fucking superstitious like mi mamá was—he doesn’t think he is—believe me, he is, and it made him feel better we agreed to do it. So, he has everyone out here on strict orders to keep us apart, including Robyn. One of my tíos is sitting at the end of the kitchen table right now so he can watch the front and back door; another is on the living room couch to stay close to my room in case he’s gotta intercept me. You’re being guarded like a fucking high-security witness with a hit out on them. I had to park my truck down the road and have Seb hide me in the trunk of his Bronco to get here without anyone seeing.”

“That is insane.”

He sighed. “At least Pop kinda gave us a choice; my mom wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t have let us take any risk of getting bad luck because I saw you.”

“It’s sweet and extremely intense.”

“Yeah, and I can’t see you, so we’re good.”

You smiled. “Gotta love loopholes.”

He was smiling, too. “Yeah. I missed you so much. I just needed to touch you and talk to you.” He grabbed your hands off his waist, stroking his thumbs over the back of them. “I couldn’t sleep last night without you—even when I tried sleeping on your side.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep either, and I missed you, too. I’m happy you’re here so we can talk. I’ve got butterflies in my tummy, and I can’t tell if they’re nerves or excitement.”

“Maybe both?”

“Could be. Don’t know what I have to be nervous about.”

“I’m nervous about having to say my sappy bullshit in front of other people and have it recorded.”

“That’s actually a good point—if we leave now, we can make it to the courthouse before it closes and skip all of that.”

He huffed out a breath. “It’s too late for that, mi amor. Pop’s excited about being a part of the ceremony and getting to walk you to me.”

There wouldn’t be an aisle per se, just a small trail of rose petals leading you to where Javi would be standing in front of the tree. Chucho cried happy tears when you asked him to give you away.

When your soon-to-be father-in-law heard about your parents' impromptu visit, you’d never seen him so angry—his face had gone red, and he went off in Spanish about what terrible people they were. He was so mad he repeatedly tried to get you to give him their phone number so he could tell them himself how lowly he thought of them and that they were awful parents; he wanted them to know that their loss was his gain and you were his daughter now; you would finally be loved and cherished by a proud parent and that it was God’s will you came into his and his son’s lives. He also needed them to be aware that their pride and greed had turned them villainous, and he’d be praying that they someday realized the error of their ways and saw you for the blessing you were.

His anger toward those who wronged you was fueled by a protective father’s love for their child, and it made you incredibly emotional that after so many years without one, you had a parent who loved you unconditionally, wanted nothing more than your happiness, and would selflessly fight battles for you.

Chucho was the best dad you’d ever had, and you were happy that in less than two hours, you’d share a last name with him, too.

“Ugh, you’re right,” you said, “Pop deserves his moment. Hey, babe?”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“When you’re saying your sappy bullshit, focus on me. It'll just be the two of us in that moment, no one else, and believe me when I say all of my tears will be happy.”

His smile was brighter than the sun. He lifted your hand to kiss each of your knuckles, saying when he finished. “All of my tears will be happy, too, and you do the same thing—it’s just us, nobody else. Will you, uh, tie my bow tie?”

His question had you smiling. “I’d love to.”

He pulled off the regular tie and stuffed it into his pocket, bending his knees and crouching with a grunt to put his neck within reach. You took the ends of the bow tie, your attention focused on what you were doing.

"This is why you had me learn how to tie a bow tie, huh?" You started going through the steps—ensuring one end was longer than the other, then crossing it over the shorter end, bringing it up from under the loop and through it.

"Yes."

The bow tie had taken shape, and you were almost done.

"What was your plan if Robyn didn't let you see me?"

"I would've called you and gotten you to sneak away."

You finished tying it, and it wasn't perfect, but it didn't look too bad.

"And I would've with zero hesitation," you said, patting the bow tie. "You look so good." You leaned out to peck him on the cheek.

"Not as good as you."

You huffed out air. "Obviously, you can't see me because only half of my makeup is done—there's literally eyeshadow on only one side. I look like a mess."

Your hands were on his shoulders, and he rubbed his hands back and forth on your arms.

"A beautiful mess."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm in love."

"I'm in love, too—madly, as a matter of fact. Oh, your dad took me out for breakfast this morning in the Mustang. He filled up the tank on our way home, and when we got back before everyone came over, he polished it, so I think it’s safe to assume you’re gonna get to drive it at some point in the next twenty-four hours—you can’t see, but I’m wagging my eyebrows.” You were.

His lips pouted, and his hands remained still. “Who drove to and from the diner?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just wanna know.”

“But why does it matter?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“No, I’m just curious why you need to know who drove.”

His shoulders slumped. “I think I have my answer—how many times has he let you drive it now? Was that four or five?”

“Six. He let me drive with him in the passenger seat and Robyn in the back when we went wedding dress shopping.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you get weird like you are now that he lets me drive it—I can’t help that he thinks my cooking is Mustang-driving-worthy.”

“But you didn’t make him anything when you went wedding dress shopping…”

“No, but he was so touched I wanted him there to help me pick out a dress, he thought the special occasion warranted me getting to drive.”

“He didn’t let me drive the Mustang when we went to find a tux…” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, babe, but my wedding dress I bought and am going to save in case our future daughter wants to wear it one day is a little more special than your rented tux that has been worn many times before you by strangers. Now, stop being jealous, and get excited that you’re finally going to drive it, and unlike me, you’ll be allowed to drive it wherever the fuck you want, so there, you have one up on me.”

He seemed to be thinking long and hard about that last bit.

“That is better…”

“It sure is. Lean in and kiss me. It’ll make you less grumpy.”

“As much as I’m dying to kiss you right now, I, um, wanna wait, so it’s kinda special…”

“I respect that and understand what you mean. Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married today, and I hope you like my dress.”

He smiled brightly. “I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married, too. I’m gonna love your dress.”

“I hope so.”

“Baby, you could show up in a paper bag, and I’d be blown away.”

“The bar is so low. Do you wanna feel what I’ll be wearing under the dress?”

The pink of his tongue quickly peeked between his lips, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

His timbre deepened. “Yes.”

You poked your head out the window to ensure no one was around, then loosened the belt, holding your robe shut. Taking his hand, you started at your shoulder beneath the silk, letting his fingertips graze over the bare skin, trailing them down to the lacy cup of your strapless bra. He couldn’t help himself and palmed your covered breast before you moved his hand once more to continue the journey downward, where he got to feel the smooth, stretchy material hugging your middle; you let his fingers find that the spandex covering the warmth between your thighs, too.

“Not very sexy,” you said. “Well, the bra is cute. The rest is so I don’t look lumpy in the dress or have panty lines.”

He was about to say something, but you spoke before he had a chance. “Yes, Javier, I know you love my natural body, including the bits I don’t, but I wanna look my very best, and that means Spanx.”

He was frowning. “Are they uncomfortable?”

It warmed your heart that he was concerned for your comfort.

"Not really," you answered truthfully. "They're like my bicycle shorts, so stretchy and breathable. Will it make you feel better to know I have sexier bottoms I'm gonna wear when I change into my comfier dress after food and our first dance?"

He didn't know what your wedding dress looked like, but he had seen the one you were changing into after it.

His free hand went to the window frame, feeling along it until he found where the opened window stopped and ducked his head under it. His face was close to yours, one of his palms still between your legs, the other carefully sliding up the edge of your open robe.

"I'd prefer you wear no panties," he rasped, pulling the silk off your shoulder. His mouth pressed to the newly revealed skin, the soft kiss of his lips and tickle of his mustache, paired with his hand on your pussy beginning to rub, had sparks dancing down your spine. "It's gonna make me hard," his words were muffled between kisses as he moved across your shoulder toward your neck, "seeing you in your wedding dress.” Your fingers went into the hair at the back of his head, his spare hand palming your breast. “I'm gonna lose my fucking mind hearing you say 'I do.'" He was kissing and nibbling at your throat now, the added friction of his palm at the crux of your thighs making it hard to think. "It's gonna drive me fucking crazy that you're my wife—my wife,” he repeated against your throat. “And I’ll be your husband—I already want you, but all I’ll be able to think about after we’re pronounced husband and wife is getting you alone, and if you’re not wearing panties, it’ll make it easier for me to lift up that pretty—“

“No, Javier!” Robyn interrupted, and you felt cold water mist against your bare skin, the spray bottle hissing near your ear. “Bad!”

“Fuck!” he yelped, his head narrowly missing the bottom of the raised window as he pushed back from you so fast you’d think he was burned. His expression had turned grumpy as he stood. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I promised your daddy I wouldn’t let you see her,” she said, looking mad. “But out of the kindness of my heart—” She pressed a hand to the left side of her chest. “—I went against my word to your father, and how do you repay me? By wastin’ time gettin’ fresh with your fiancée when I’m riskin’ your daddy bein’ madder than a box of frogs at me for not doin’ what I said I’d do—you’re bein’ real rude Javier Peña, exploitin’ my niceness and I’d appreciate you sayin’ your goodbyes, and bein’ on your way.”

His eyes were covered, but it was visible how his face shifted from grumpy to guilty.

“I’m sorry, Robyn,” he said.

“Apology accepted. Say goodbye, and then we gotta get back to work.”

“Okay,” he replied.

The other woman headed back to the en suite. Leaning forward, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to step toward you.

“Thank you for coming to see me or, you know, talk to me,” you told him.

He smiled, squeezing your palm. “There was zero chance of me waiting to talk to you until the wedding. I love you too much.”

“I’m happy you did, and I love you, too.”

He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know you will, and I’ll be there.”

Javi sighed. “I better go. Bye, Cielito,” he said and didn’t move.

“You’re gonna see me in a little bit—get going, babe.”

He sighed again. “Fine. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

This time, he quickly pecked the back of your hand and started quietly walking along the front of the house. You assumed he had taken off the sleep mask to sneak away.

You closed and locked the window, shutting the blinds and curtains, feeling happy that you'd be seeing him again soon.

It took some time to finish getting ready, as you wanted to look perfect. Robyn did a fantastic job on your makeup, and your hair turned out well. When you saw yourself all dolled up and wearing your dress, you almost couldn't believe it was your reflection staring back at you in the mirror.

The white, silky satin hugged your curves as it cascaded to the ground to pool around your feet, the fabric having some stretch to it so your movements weren’t hindered. The neckline dipped in a slight V, your upper back bare from under your armpits up, and thin straps went over your shoulders connecting the two sides.

With how the satin draped over your figure, perfectly fitting the contours of your body, then flared out below your knees, it had a Morticia Addams feel to it—change the color of it to black, add sleeves, and you’d find it in her closet.

Javi was right. You looked so amazing that he was absolutely going to get a boner when he saw you.

And wasn't that just the sweetest thing?

A man so in love with you he gets aroused even when you're fully clothed because he thinks you're that pretty. He was also the kind of guy who sometimes got too excited from a kiss, and you had to wait a little while in the car for him to calm down…

"What do you think?" Robyn asked beside you. She'd put on her dress—a lavender-colored, A-line, floor-length gown with ruffled short sleeves and a V-neckline that, as an added bonus, had pockets.

You met her eyes in the mirror. "That I've never looked more beautiful—if you ever wanted to get out of nursing, you'd be a fantastic makeup artist."

She smiled, her full lips painted in rose-pink lipstick. "Thank you, but I prefer doin' it as a hobby and bein' able to help my friends out."

"Well, thank you for making me look insanely pretty."

"All I did was enhance what was already there, girl—Javi's gonna lose it."

"I hope he does."

A knock sounded from the bedroom door, and without a word, your friend went to see who it was.

"Is it okay for Chucho to see you?" Robyn called from the other room.

"Yes!" you answered, and nerves started fluttering in your belly over what he'd think.

Within seconds, your father-in-law was standing in the doorway, where you faced him with a grin.

"Dios mío (My God)," he gasped, his hand going to his mouth, “eres tan hermosa (you’re so beautiful)!” His dark eyes behind his glasses started to shine.

He was wearing light grey slacks, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a tie in the same shade as Robyn’s dress resting against his chest from a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, his camera dangling from a strap around his neck; as usual, his long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

“Ese vestido es perfecto (That dress is perfect)!” he said. “Estoy tan feliz de que lo hayas elegido porque te ves increíble (I’m so happy you chose it because you look amazing). Javi se va a volver loco (Javi is going to go crazy)."

"You really think so?" you asked, looking down at your outfit.

"Oh, yes." He nodded. "He's not going to leave you alone. We'll have to get a crowbar to pry him away from you."

You giggled, looking at him. "Yeah, I have a feeling he's gonna be stuck to me all night."

"When isn't he?"

The question made you laugh. "Touché."

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to," the older man started, "but I went through mi amor's jewelry to see if there was anything I thought you might want to wear—it could be your something old—” You hadn’t figured out what to do for something old; your something new was the perfume Javi got you for Christmas that you saved for today so he’d have a scent memory. Something borrowed was Chucho’s land, where your ceremony and party would take place, and something blue was a garter from Robyn around your thigh under your dress. “—and I found this necklace,” he said.

That's when you realized he was holding a large, thin, black leather box in his other hand.

Chucho walked closer to you, holding it in a palm, while the other lifted the hinged top—the necklace was made up of many silver waves connected together, purple sapphires resting in each dip, that you counted seventeen in total. It was stunning, the metal and precious gemstones glimmering beneath the lighting.

"I gave this to mi Antonia on our twentieth anniversary," he told you. "We'd visit her family in Mexico two, three times a year, and always for Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). On one visit, she saw this necklace and fell in love with it—it's Taxco silver and known for its high quality; many pieces made with it are crafted by hand and marked, so you know it's real. She wouldn't let me buy it for her because she thought it was too expensive for something she’d hardly wear, but the way she looked at it, I had to get it for her anyway, so I did and surprised her with it on our anniversary; she yelled at me," he chuckled, smiling. "Then had me put it on her and covered my face in kisses." He sighed fondly. "I think if she were here today, this is what she would've chosen for you, too—if you don’t like it, we can go upstairs for you to pick something else out..."

"No, Pop," you said quickly, meeting his gaze. There was a lump in your throat at the thought he'd put into finding you this piece of jewelry. "It's perfect, and I'd love to wear it. Can you help me put it on, please?"

"Yes, Mija." He set the open box on the bathroom counter and picked up the necklace with the same care as you would a newborn. Turning so your back was to him, he had an end in each hand as his arm went over your head to get the silver and sapphires around the front of your neck, clasping it at the back. He stepped away, and you faced him again.

There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were soft. "Mi hija hermosa (My beautiful daughter).” The sentence had your breath hitching. “¿Ella es preciosa, no (She is gorgeous, right)?" he asked Robyn. She understood Spanish but had a hard time speaking it.

The other woman was beside him, grinning. "She sure is," she agreed. "A real stunner."

"I'm so happy this day has finally come." Tears were brimming on his eyelids, and he took off his glasses to wipe them away. "I just wish mi amor was here to see our son marry such a wonderful woman."

Your eyes were burning as you held back from crying. He'd put his eyeglasses back on, and you stepped forward to hug him, being careful of your makeup. His arms went around you, squeezing you back.

"I wish she was here, too," you said. "At least we've got you, the best dad in the whole world. I love you, Pop."

"I love you, too, Mija. Thank you for loving my son and making him the happiest I've ever seen. We're blessed to have you in our lives, and I can't tell you how much joy I feel that you've decided to take our last name; I think it suits you better."

"I think it suits me better, too."

“You’re gonna kill the grass if you keep walking back and forth like that,” the other man told him.

They were at the oak tree on the hill, and the sun was getting close to setting. Javier had his whole outfit on: a black tuxedo and bow tie, white shirt, and lavender pocket square—he’d borrowed a pair of his father’s golden cufflinks, and one of his mother’s violet roses was pinned to his lapel. He didn’t have a cigarette to calm his nerves, so he was pacing, but the comment had him stopping with a sigh.

"Are you wearing a hole in the ground 'cause you're being impatient?" Steve continued. "Or are you nervous?"

His gaze went to his best friend, who was standing in front of him holding a small, white, heart-shaped pillow adorned in lace that went around the edges—there were two golden rings, one bigger than the other, secured to the top of it by a satin ribbon tied into a bow. The older man was dressed in a charcoal-colored suit he regularly wore to work, with a new tie provided by Javier that matched his lavender pocket square. Nate was in a carrier on his back; the parents put the one-year-old in a onesie that made him look like he was wearing a tuxedo and some dark pants, the child happily chewing on a football-shaped teething toy.

His hands went to his hips as he frowned. “Both?” Javier answered. “I can’t wait to see her, and I’m nervous about saying shi-stuff—“ He quickly corrected himself with the children present. “—I usually save for when we’re alone.”

Steve was giving him a weird look. “My kids are here. This ‘stuff’ is appropriate for them to hear, right…? It’s not anything… lewd…?”

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not anything like that, you judgemental pri-prude.”

The blonde man’s free hand went up in a placating gesture. “Hey, you said you save it for when you’re alone, and y’all have stayed at our house—any time the two of you were alone, you… folded laundry.”

“Folded laundry…?”

“Javi,” Connie said to get his attention, and he looked over to where she was fussing with the purple bow in Olivia’s hair. “You know when there’s a big load of laundry that requires two adults to fold, and they have to lock the bedroom door so there aren’t any distractions.”

Oh, ‘folding laundry’ was their code word for sex—that was smart.

“Mom and Dad have been folding a lot of laundry together lately,” Olivia added with a quizzical expression. “I didn’t know it was so hard to do alone—the baskets don’t seem that big.”

Javier smiled, his head turning from one parent to the other, seeing they were avoiding his eyes and blushing—good for them, fucking regularly.

“It’s more satisfying to do laundry with someone, so it gets done quicker,” he said.

“Doesn’t seem to get done quicker,” she replied.

Steve cleared his throat before he spoke. “Anyways, enough about laundry—what are you planning to say that’s got you nervous, Jav?”

He stopped smiling and scratched his mustache. “Uh, like, lovey-dovey, romantic crap…”

His best friend’s smile grew into a shit-eating grin. “What, like, super cheesy stuff? Are you gonna read the poetry you wrote about her eyes in your diary or something?”

Javier ground his teeth.

"Leave him alone, Steve," Connie said. "In our wedding video, before I walked down the aisle, you were clearly figuring out where all of the nearest exits were in the church. It’s refreshing and sweet that Javi’s gonna be vulnerable in front of everyone for the woman he loves.”

"I was checking where the exits were in case of a fire!" Steve rebuked. "All those candles they lit made me nervous."

"If that's what you tell yourself." She didn’t sound convinced.

“I was! Why did we need to be here forty-five minutes early?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “I was really enjoying the food your aunties were feeding us back at the house.”

There wasn’t a chance for Javier to respond; the answer to the question was he wanted to show how eager he was to marry the woman he actually loved and avoid any chance of being late—it also was a ‘fuck you’ to the people betting against him at the bar.

"Tío, tío!" The three-year-old Stevie shouted, running up to him; he was holding a Ninja Turtle action figure he'd been playing with in the grass.

Javier smiled, his attention moving to the child, crouching to be at his level. "Yes, mi principito (my little prince)?"

"We match!" His tiny finger pointed at his little light purple bow tie over his white dress shirt. The kid refused to wear a regular tie like his dad, and the only way they got him to agree to the clip-on bow tie was by telling him Javier had one, too.

His friends weren't by any means struggling with money, but Javier and his wif-fiancée, sent them a check to pay for their trip to Texas, which included flights, lodging, a rental car, and clothes for the wedding since they wanted those at the ceremony to match—Olivia got a new dress and so did her mom in the shade of lavender everyone else was wearing.

The family had gotten into town the day before. Cielito and Javier had shown them around town and taken them out to the ranch where Chucho and Connie finally got to meet in person—there was a lot of hugging—and that evening, they all, including his father, went out to dinner. Today, he’d spent more time with his friends before they all needed to get ready, then they followed him out to the ranch to distract Chucho while Javier covertly went to see, or, well, talk to his bride-to-be—the sleep mask was Connie’s idea, and she thought them sneakily meeting without anyone knowing was incredibly romantic.

"We do, bud,” he said. “You look so cool." He gently patted the child's arm.

Stevie was grinning. "I'm gonna walk from Mommy to Daddy and give him the rings?"

The hill they were on wasn’t too steep; Olivia was fine with walking up it from the bottom—she was excited to do it. For her younger brother, it was too much for him, so Connie was going to stand with Stevie a little before the land evened out at the top to signal when it was time for him to walk to his father.

"Yes," he nodded. "You'll walk while holding the pillow with the rings and hand it to your dad."

"It's a special job?"

"It's very special."

"Sissy's gonna throw flowers?"

"Yes, flower petals."

"It's a special job, too?"

"It is. They’re both important. Thank you for helping me, mi principito (my little prince).” He ruffled the child’s dirty blonde hair, making Stevie laugh.

Javier’s primos, Sebastián, and his tía Rebeca's daughter, Angelita, were taking care of the videography and photography, respectively. Seb had the video camera Javier bought, and Angelita had her own gear since she was a professional photographer—when you had fourteen cousins on just your father’s side, the odds were in your favor, one of them could either help with what you needed or knew somebody who could.

Photos were taken of Javier with the Murphys when they all first got there, and then his primos told everyone to pretend they weren’t there while they got candids and views of the scenery—his cousins arrived together in Sebastián’s SUV.

“Hey, Javi?” Seb said as he walked toward him.

"I gotta talk to him, buddy," Javier told Stevie. "I'll be back." He rose up with a groan, taking a few steps to reach his primo. "Yeah?" he answered.

When camcorders first came out, they were big and had to be rested on the operator’s shoulder, but the one Seb was using, he held in one of his hands with the side pulled open to see the little screen that previewed what was being recorded. The younger man hit a button on the video camera to pause what he’d been doing. “Do you want me to interview people?” Seb asked. “Ask how they like the wedding, if they have any advice, that kinda stuff.”

"Uh." He thought about it and Cielito would probably enjoy that. "Sure.”

"Perfecto (Perfect)." Seb nodded, hitting the button to record again.

Javier immediately regretted his decision when the camera was put in his face.

“It’s your big day, primo,” Seb said. “How are you feeling?”

“Um, excited and nervous.”

“The audience would like to hear how you met your bride.”

Javier smiled, heat rising on his cheeks. “At the grocery store, in the produce department—I guess it was obvious I was struggling to pick out a tomato, and she came to my rescue and showed me what to look for.”

“What was your first impression of her?”

He scratched at the back of his neck while looking away. “Uh, that she was sweet for helping me out, and beautiful. I could tell she had a good, kind heart and—” he lowered his voice so the children wouldn’t hear him. “—no fuckin’ clue who I was.” He chuckled. “I was hooked from that first conversation; an instant connection—there was something about her that told me she was going to be someone important to me, and I’d never felt that with anyone else.”

“What’d you do for your first date?”

His immediate thought was what happened after the bar, and his face felt hot. “We, uh, went out for drinks.”

“When did you know you loved her?”

He looked at the camera. “Honestly? Our third date. We were dancing in her kitchen to “¿Y cómo es él?”—”

“Mi mamá loves that song,” Seb said.

Javier huffed, smiling. “All my tías do. So, uh, we were dancing in her kitchen, and I realized she was the woman I was going to marry. I could see us having a future and was picturing what our Sunday mornings would look like—which, they’re exactly how I imagined—yeah, I knew I loved her on the third date and that we were going to get married one day.” He cleared his throat. “When my dad tells the story of the first time he saw my mother, he says his gut told him she was the one, and I always thought he was talking out of his—ass,” he whispered. “But it’s real and crazy to know deep down inside that you’ve found the person who completes you—feeling that confirmed she was it and that I truly did love her.”

“I think I know the feeling you’re talking about, and it’s great.”

“It is, and at your wedding, I’m gonna grill you on camera about it.”

“Hey, your wife is gonna eat this up, and you both want kids; think about your hijos (children) watching this one day and seeing how much you love their mom on your wedding day.”

The thought of sitting on the couch surrounded by his wife and kids, watching this wedding video, made him soften to the point he was putty—he wanted it to be a reality one day.

“What’s something you want to say to the bride before you get married?” Seb asked.

“I love you, and today is the best day of my entire fucking life—”

“—Eso es un dólar en la jarra, tío (That’s a dollar in the jar, uncle).” Olivia interrupted.

She meant the swear jar.

Javier sighed. “Lo siento, mi tesorito (I’m sorry, my little treasure). As I was saying, mi Cielito, I love you, and today is the best day of my entire freaking life. Happy isn’t enough to describe how I feel about us starting this new chapter of being husband and wife, and I’m looking forward to our future full of love, happiness, and hopefully, a lot of kids.” He smiled big. “I love you more than anything, and I will tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).” To end the sentence, he blew a kiss at the camera lens.

In order to get to where Javi was, it involved Chucho driving you off-road, and the trip was bumpy; you sat in the passenger seat, and Robyn was in the backseat, and because your father-in-law was probably as nervous as you were about speaking in front of people, he held your hand the entire way.

The previous day, when you brought the Murphys out to the ranch, you’d taken them to where you were going to be wed to do a quick rehearsal on how things would go; Olivia was beyond ecstatic to be a flower girl, and Stevie didn’t really understand what was going on, except that his tío Javi had an important job for him.

Chucho pulled up and parked at the base of the hill with your door opposite it so you couldn’t get a closer look at everyone atop it. The butterflies in your belly were flapping around so hard you thought they might get out, while your mind was racing with what could go wrong like you falling—that was a reason you wore flats, but with how much of your dress touched the ground, there was a chance of it tripping you up. Or what if Javi’s handsomeness made your brain stop working, and you couldn’t speak a single coherent word? Something that has happened before. God, your heart was pounding, and you thought you might be having a minor panic attack due to your vision starting to tunnel—a small silver flask was held up in front of your face, the cap already twisted off.

“Take a drink, Mija,” Chucho’s soothing voice said. “It’ll calm you down.”

The man was a lifesaver.

You grabbed it, taking a big swig, and your face pinched as the whiskey burned down your throat—from the taste and smoothness, you recognized it as Javi’s favorite, which was top shelf, a little spendy, and probably came from the bottle your fiancé gifted his dad to thank him for his help in getting you to give the green light to start your family.

The effect the alcohol had on you was almost immediate, feeling all of the tense muscles in your body relax at the same time. Your father-in-law took the flask from you and knocked it back with a drink of his own.

“Robyn?” he asked when he finished, holding it up for her to reach.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she replied, accepting it from him to take a gulp.

“I couldn’t see Antonia before our wedding,” he said, his head turned your way, “or talk to her. We were kept apart at the church, and I was so nervous that I was shaking like a leaf.” He chuckled. “Not about getting married, but having to stand in front of so many people. It had to be minutes before I needed to go out with the priest that mi amor’s maid of honor, her best friend, found me to give me an opened bottle of tequila and a note written by Antonia that read, ‘Mi amor, un trago para el coraje (My love, a drink for courage). Yo también necesitaba uno (I needed one, too).’ And she left a lipstick stamp of her lips at the bottom, where she kissed the paper. I won’t deny it. I kissed where her lips had been and took two shots.”

The story made you smile.

Chucho had put on a jacket that matched his light grey pants, and you watched as he pulled something from the inside pocket. It was a small folded piece of paper that’d been ripped from the notepad he kept by the answering machine at his house to write down messages. He passed it over to you, and you unfolded it, finding Javi’s scratchy handwriting. You read what he wrote:

Cielito, You said you were never drinking again, but I think this can be an exception since you’re probably freaking the fuck out about embarrassing yourself like I am. I’m worried I’ll see how beautiful you are and forget how to talk, or my brain will stop working. Have a drink to calm your nerves, and know it will all be okay because we’re doing this together. I love you, Your husband

The note was touching, especially since he knew how you’d be feeling.

“When did he write this?” you asked Chucho, whose eyes you met, the man smiling.

“When he met up with Connie and all of them at the house before they came out here. I’d given him the flask when he got there as a gift, but he told me to keep it for you and asked if he could write you a message. It reminded me so much of his mother, I couldn’t say no.”

“Thanks, Pop. I needed it.”

“I know you did, Mija.” He patted your leg.

When Javier saw his father's truck in the distance, his heart rate increased, and by the time they parked at the bottom of the hill, his heart was beating so fast that he was sure it was going to beat right out of his chest.

With where he was standing at the tree and how the land sloped, he didn’t have a visual. Steve was beside him with Nate still in the carrier, Connie and Stevie, who was holding the pillow with the rings, had walked to the top of the hill and were looking down it, probably watching Olivia, who booked it to join the people at the truck. Seb was near Steve's wife and kid with the camcorder and a battery-powered boombox on the ground he was supposed to hit play on when Robyn gave him the signal.

Sweat was forming on his brow and on his palms. He turned to Steve.

"Do I look okay?" he asked his friend. "How's my hair? And the bow tie?" He lifted his chin.

The other man was wearing an amused smile. "Hair and bow tie look as fine as they did when you asked five minutes ago." He put a hand on Javier's shoulder and squeezed. "Relax, man—you look great. She's gonna love what she sees."

"I fucking hope so."

The sun had started its descent on the horizon and was the backdrop for the place they’d be standing; the sky where it met land was lit up in burning orange, bleeding into golden yellow where the sun was positioned, and high above that, it turned into a calming mauve.

The soft, melodic sound of a piano began, and it was Javier's cue to face the others. Christine McVie’s voice floated through the air as she sang the opening to the Fleetwood Mac song, "Songbird:"

“For you there'll be no more crying For you the Sun will be shining And I feel that when I'm with you It's alright, I know it's right.”

Seconds later, Robyn came into view, smiling while holding a small bouquet of sunflowers with a lavender ribbon wrapped around the stems. She shot her boyfriend, Sebastián, a wink as she passed him. She took her spot across from Javier beside where Cielito would be.

When he discussed with his wife-to-be the music for today, she only knew for sure what she wanted them to dance their first dance to, and since Javier didn’t object to it, she left what she’d walk down the aisle to up to him. He knew she’d hate the traditional “Bridal Chorus,” a couple of Elvis Presley songs came to mind, “No Sé Tú” by Luis Miguel perfectly described how Javier felt when they met and was a good option, “At Last” by Etta James would be appropriate, too, and “I Could Fall in Love” by Selena was in the running, because, Selena, but then he remembered this song on Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours—his favorite album, and for good reason with it having some of the band’s best classics like “The Chain,” “Dreams,” and “Go Your Own Way;” it was also seeping with palpable heartbreak of a messy breakup, except for the track, “Songbird.” It was a major tonal shift from all the angst with its pretty piano and Christine McVie crooning her love. What sold him on it were the lines:

“To you, I’ll give the world To you, I’ll never be cold ‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you It’s alright, I know it’s right.”

He loved it when he heard it played live at the band's concert twenty-three years ago—he’d been seventeen and still in high school; he and his buddies snuck off to Fort Worth to see them, and “Songbird” was the last song of their set before the encore.

It was his three-year-old sobrino’s (nephew’s) turn to walk forward, his mom sending him to his dad with the rings—they all laughed at how he ran as fast as he could, making Javier smile.

"Here, Daddy," the child said to Steve, holding up the pillow.

His father accepted it.

"Great job, kiddo—high-five." His friend had to bend a little to gently hit his palm to Stevie’s tinier one, and the toddler turned to Javier expectantly, who, of course, bent his knees and high-fived him.

"You did good, buddy,” he said.

Steve told his son to stand with him, and Connie went to be next to Robyn as everyone watched Olivia walk up, tossing red rose petals from a small white basket, leaving a trail of them behind her. He hum-sang under his breath along with the song:

“And the songbirds are singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before.”

Finally, his bride came into view, her eyes locking onto his, and all the love he had for, all of his happiness, and thanks he had to the universe for making this day happen overflowed from him, falling as tears down his face and made his smile so big, he could feel the dimple in his cheek.

She was breathtaking and better than anything he could’ve imagined; this moment would be seared into his brain for all eternity, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy in his entire life—he almost told Steve to make sure he didn’t float away.

Her bouquet was made up of roses from his mother’s garden, and his heart felt like it would burst. Then the dress—Jesus Christ, the dress was perfect with how it molded to her body and showed off her tits from the neckline V-ing between them. His fingers were itching to see if the fabric was as buttery smooth as it looked, wanting to explore the expanse with his fingertips, mapping out every curve, line, and dip he’d already ventured countless times before but now on a new canvas; He desired to feel her softness under his palms and cradle her beautiful face to kiss those delectable lips he so loved; he wanted to hold her in his arms, her familiar shape he knew as intimately as his own, pressed against him, where she belonged.

All of it was getting him too excited, and his pants were feeling tighter, just as he suspected might happen.

Javier’s dream wedding night would have them partying with their friends and family well into the later hours and holding off on consummating their marriage until they retired to the room he rented at the nicest hotel in town he was surprising her with. He’d been determined to do just that up until he had to spend the previous evening by himself where he was alone with his thoughts and ruminated on how beautiful she was going to look, that she was going to be his wife, and one day soon, the mother of his children; since she wasn’t there to distract him by simply being in his vicinity, he worked himself up until he was rock hard and had to take a freezing shower.

He didn’t see there being any chance they’d make it to the hotel without them fucking at least once beforehand.

God, she was so fucking gorgeous.

He had to wipe at the wetness on his face, his smile continuing to shine.

Telling her his feelings in front of everyone wasn’t all he’d been nervous about; his brain was a real asshole, and there’d been a tiny thread of worry she wasn’t going to show—it was stupid, to have even fathomed something so absurd, yet looking at how shitty his luck was up until they met, he thought it wouldn’t have been too surprising that this time he’d be the one left at the altar.

But she was here! She came! And he was so overjoyed he couldn’t stop crying.

Wait.

Oh, fuck, she was close now—what was he supposed to do? It only just registered that she was walking with his dad, and they were almost to him, and he couldn’t remember what needed to happen when she got to him. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and he was starting to panic that he didn’t know what his next move was, worried he was going to fuck it all up; it was unbelievable that he’d been in gunfights, had to think on the fly to stay alive many times, and put on press conferences, yet at this moment when there wasn’t any danger or eager reporters, he was so overwhelmed by the woman he loved’s beauty, and that she was marrying him, his brain had ceased functioning entirely, and he was spiraling at embarrassing himself with so many onlookers.

Javi was having a panic attack.

The change in his eyes, how they went from bright and happy to panicked, clued you in, and any nervousness you felt flew out the window because your only concern was helping him.

Unhooking your arm from Chucho, you held out the hand, not holding flowers to Robyn.

“Flask me,” you said. Quickly, she pulled it from her pocket and passed it to you, taking your bouquet in return. You stepped in front of your betrothed as you unscrewed the cap on the container of booze. “Hey, baby,” you said in a soothing tone. “You’re okay.” You grabbed his hand and put the flask in it, pushing it toward his face. “Have a drink to calm your nerves. Everything is gonna be okay, honey. Remember, we’re doing this together—it’s just us.”

The music had stopped playing.

He shook his head once like he was trying to shake the bad stuff out, and he took a drink, or several, with how his Adam’s apple kept bobbing.

“Looks like I’ll be driving us after this.” The adults surrounding you chuckled, and you smiled.

His hand lowered, and his vision focused on you, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No reason to be sorry—I freaked out in the car.” You took the flask from him, screwed on the cap, and handed it back to Robyn without looking. “Feeling better?” you asked, smoothing your fingers over his bangs while his eyes were on yours.

“Much,” he answered with a small smile, his palms moving to rest on your hips.

“Wanna get married?”

“More than anything.”

“Good—liquid courage helps.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek, then put your lips near his ear for only him to hear, “Say the word, and we’ll pack up, go party with everyone, and hit the courthouse tomorrow.”

He spoke softly in your ear, “Thank you, Cielito, but I promise I’m okay.” He kissed your cheek. “I told you I’d see how beautiful you are and forget how to function.”

You giggled, pulling back to look at him, taking in the black tuxedo jacket and bow tie over his crisp white shirt and the lavender pocket square and the pinned violet rose for a pop of color—his hair still looked good, and you rubbed away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.

When he saw you in your wedding dress, the expression on his face was something you’d never forget—it was a look of pure, uninhibited joy, and you were sure you saw hearts in his eyes with how they beamed his immense love and devotion. The way that it had him crying happy tears made you feel emotional that someone loved you with such magnitude. It’s why your immediate thought when you saw him panicking wasn’t that he wanted to back out, knowing from his note that he was freaking the fuck out about embarrassing himself, and the nerves got him.

“Let’s get married.” His head turned to kiss one of your palms.

“Let’s get married.”

Turning to your almost-father-in-law, you gave him a quick hug, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to give Javi a side hug, careful of the stuff held in one of his hands and whispering something in his son’s ear, you didn’t catch.

The elder Peña went to stand at his place in front of the tree, holding his worn, soft leather bible, with a picture of Javi’s mother stuck to the cover and a note card sticking out from between the pages to mark a spot.

Javier took your hand, and you both walked the few steps to your spots before his father; he grasped your other palm in his once you faced one another, Chucho on your left and Javi’s right.

Your husband-to-be mouthed, ‘I love you,’ and you silently replied with the movement of your lips, ‘I love you, too.’

Chucho cleared his throat, and your attention went to him.

“Welcome, loved ones,” he started, “we are gathered here today in the sight of God and each other to bear witness to the perfect union of Javier, and—” He said your name. “What a joyous day we get to share with them as they embark on this new journey of a life together in matrimony that will, no doubt, be long, healthy, and filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Mijo, Mija,” he addressed you both, “I called this union between you perfect, and I meant it. Besides my marriage to my dear Antonia, que en paz descanse (may she rest in peace), I cannot think of two other people more suited to share a life together. It’s clear the good you bring out in one another and how happy you make each other.” His eyes landed on you. “And you truly make my son happy. This might come as a shock,” he said to everyone in attendance, “but Javier is a smiley guy when he’s happy, and I haven’t seen him smile so much in a long, long time.

“He also has never been able to hide his feelings because that handsome face of his tells his secrets—it’s his—” He glanced at you. “—I’m stealing this from you, Mija—it’s his puppy dog eyes, he got from his mother, and she suffered the same problem.” His gaze stayed on you. “I know Javier loves you more than there’s blue in all the sky because he looks at you the same way mi amor looked at me, and as we know, their eyes don’t lie.”

He was right, and it made you choke up that he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such honesty and the weight of so much love.

Chucho looked at his son. “Your media naranja (soulmate) isn’t much better.” He nodded toward you. “Her eyes betray her, too, even when she does her damndest to hide behind a mask. When she looks at you, though, the truth of her love is revealed—her thoughts are loud when she stares at you, and sometimes I think I can hear them; the declaration of ‘I love you,’ she’s repeating over and over again. She looks at you like you’re her whole world, and I know it’s true from those looks, how she treats and cares for you, the things she does for you, even when you don’t ask, and the effort she puts into cultivating your relationship.”

He spoke to you both again. “Marriage can be wonderful with the right person, but it isn’t always easy; I want to take a moment and give you some advice that kept my marriage happy.

“Be best friends—talk about everything, even when you don’t want to or it’s a hard subject. Communicate your needs and wants constantly, and don’t stop talking to each other. Be best friends who share everything, and I mean everything, because your relationship needs to be built upon trust, and there’s nothing better than spending your life with your best friend.

“Keep having fun—joke around, cook together, dance in the kitchen, don’t stop having fun. And keep dating each other. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean that the dating stops. Go out, stay in, just have romantic time you dedicate to one another; that way, the spark stays alive. I know it’ll be harder to do when you have kids; you’ll be exhausted and won’t have much energy. Dating still needs to be a priority, and it doesn’t have to be anything exciting; it can be as simple as putting the kids to bed, staying up, watching a movie together, or baking cookies.”

“—or folding laundry together,” Steve interjected.

Javi chuckled, and you were confused. He leaned toward you to whisper in your ear, “It’s their code word for sex.”

“Oh, that’s smart,” you said as he straightened.

A furrow was between Chucho’s eyebrows. “I guess folding laundry can be romantic…” the older man said. “Now, where was I?” He opened his bible and pulled out the notecard, his eyes scanning over. “Oh, yes—anyone can fall in love; it’s nurturing that love, sharing your life with the other, facing challenges together, and growing as one that makes it real love, and what you have is real. The love you share and I had with my wife is beautiful, but it’s also fierce, it’s powerful, and all consuming; it’s not something anyone can get between and will live on even when you no longer walk the earth. I know you didn’t want a religious ceremony, but there’s a scripture I’d like to share that perfectly describes what I mean. May I?” he asked, his bible already open to the page.

Javier and you figured he’d slip in a verse or two simply because he was a devout Christian man. It was nice of him to ask permission first, though. You turned your head to meet your almost-husband’s eyes and shrugged that you were fine with it. He smiled, his attention going back to his father.

“Go ahead,” Javi said.

Chucho had a toothy grin. “Wonderful—it’s in Songs of Solomon 8 and reads: Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.”

He shut the bible with one hand, his notes resting atop it.

“I wish more people got to experience that kind of love—it’d do the world a whole lot of good. Javier—” He looked at his son, then over to you, saying your name. “I know with how you feel for each other, it’s natural to think marriage is the next step in your relationship. I want you to be sure you know what you’re getting into.” His eyes were moving between you both. “This is a lifelong commitment that will have its ups and downs, highs and lows, and you’ll need to challenge yourselves to love the other more completely each and every day. Are you ready to take this step?”

Without missing a beat, Javi and you said simultaneously, ‘Yes,’ your hands still in his.

Chucho smiled. “Wonderful. Javier—” His eyes went to his son. “—do you take—” He said your name. “—to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you honor her, cherish her, love, trust, and commit to her and her alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Javi said.

His father turned his attention to you and addressed you by name. “—do you take Javier to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor him, cherish him, love, trust, and commit to him and him alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” you answered.

“It’s time for you to share the vows you’ve written for one another before you exchange rings. Who’d like to go first?”

“Me!” you said immediately, and everyone laughed. “I need to get them out of the way before Javi makes me a blubbering mess. Robyn, vows me.” Turning her way, you put out your hand, and she juggled the two bouquets she held to pull a folded piece of paper from her pocket to hand to you. “Have I told you your dress is amazing?” you asked her.

“Thank you—I look good and have pockets. What could be better?”

“Dresses with pockets are a game-changer.” You faced Javi, and heat bloomed up your neck and on your face at remembering you had to say how you felt in front of people.

“Hey,” Javi said to get your attention, and your gazes locked. “It’s just me,” he whispered. “Talk to me—no one else is here.”

“Right.” You smiled, then focused on the lined notebook paper you unfolded that had your writing on it. “Javier Jesús Peña López,” you began, “the first of his name, King of my heart, Lord of our tiny apartment, and Protector of me—”

“Just Javi’s fine,” he said.

You giggled. “Javi, not a day goes by that I am unaware of how lucky I am to have found you. When I think about how much time you spent away from this town—that I both love and hate—all the people you’ve met, the life you’ve lived, and the things you’ve gone through, it’s a miracle our paths crossed, and possibly Divine Intervention or the universe doing me a solid, that after everything that’s happened to you, you’ve ended up here, with me.

“It’s crazy the number of obstacles we’ve had to face together and how many people are obsessed with making your life difficult—this isn’t me complaining. I’m weirdly thankful for it; it’s kept us on our toes and tested our bond. It’s improved our communication and has built a strong foundation for our relationship.

“Something I’m also thankful for is the trust we share. I can count on you. I know you’re true to your word, and I have no reason to worry about you ever being deceitful.

“What’s also reassuring is your star signs back up the faith I have in you—as a Sagittarius, you value honesty, and when you find someone you think is really worth it, you commit, and you commit hard. With Capricorn and Scorpio in your top three, you’re super loyal, a little possessive, and definitely a relationship guy. To sum all of that up, you’re pretty much perfect and an amazing partner.

“You’re a good man, the best I’ve known. My life is better with you in it. Thank you for loving me.” Tears started to distort your vision, the emotion coming through in your voice. “Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for your unwavering support and for being my rock. Thank you for being my protector and making me feel so safe with you. Thank you for being my best friend and the love of my life.”

You had to take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Here are my promises to you,” you said, “I promise to love you until the end of time, and if I happen to go first, haunt you until we can be together again.” He chuckled. “I promise to be your protector and to always have your back; I will go to battle for you in a heartbeat, and hopefully, you know that. I promise to be honest, and it should go without saying because, as we’ve established, you’re perfect, but I promise to be faithful. I promise to keep making you laugh and smile. I promise to put you first and to always be your best friend—sorry, Steve.”

“You can have him,” Steve replied, and everyone laughed.

You continued speaking, “I promise to make your mother’s tamales a couple times a year—I promise to make you one of her other recipes on the days you miss her particularly bad. I promise to keep reminding you that you’re sexier and better than Harrison Ford.” That one made him and the others crack up. “I promise to rap “Whatta Man” for you every time it comes on, so you don’t forget whatta man you are. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen every chance we get. I promise to try, keyword here, try, not to recite the movies word for word when we watch Star Wars or Addams Family Values. I promise to always make sure we don’t run out of limes or your hot sauce or side-eye you when you put either on the perfectly seasoned food I made. I promise to always leave you the last of the ice cream because you’re a dirty liar when you say you don’t want it. I promise to tell you I love you every day until the day I die. I promise that you and your love will always be enough, and I’ll always pick you; I’ll always choose you over anyone else.

“Today, the separate books of our lives have come to an end, and we’re starting the next one together—I can’t wait to see what each new chapter will bring. What I know for sure—” You glanced over at Chucho. “—I’m stealing this from you, Pop—” Your eyes went to Javi’s, and his were reddened, his face glistening from crying and flushed from the alcohol. “—What I know for sure,” you said, “is this new adventure we’re beginning, will be filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Javi, you are my person. You’re the love of my life, my one true love, mi media naranja, the person I want to go to sleep with every night and wake up with every morning. You’re my best friend and my forever.

“I love you, Javier Jesús Peña López and I am so happy I get to spend eternity with you.”

His smile was big enough his dimple was showing and you hated that you couldn’t kiss him.

Chucho sniffled, putting his bible under his arm to get his handkerchief from his pocket, lifting his glasses to wipe away his tears.

“That was beautiful, Mija. When you’re ready, Javi, go ahead.”

All she said had Javier feeling so unbelievably happy that he couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears streaming down his cheeks, and he thought his smile might be permanently stuck on his face—he was sure the alcohol wasn’t helping him to keep his composure.

His dad’s speech had gotten him, too, especially about how Chucho could see her feelings for him and said their love was real. He always wondered if the intensity of what he felt for her was normal, and hearing that his parents were the same way reassured him that they just had a strong connection. His father’s advice was helpful, too, and he planned on following it.

She looked incredible and smelled amazing; her perfume wasn’t one she’d worn before, but he knew the scent because he got it for her as a Christmas present—it was intoxicating, and he was dying to shove his face into her neck to drown himself in it. With the emotions she was eliciting from him, her beauty, the perfume, and the whiskey he drank, it was a heady combination that had him feeling buzzed, and he was so caught up in all of it that it had completely slipped his mind that he had to speak.

“Shit,” he said under his breath and barely pulled open the left side of his jacket to get into the inside pocket. First, he grabbed his reading glasses, which he put on, then the folded piece of yellow, lined paper he’d taken from a legal pad at work.

“I am literally the luckiest woman in the world,” Cielito said, and his eyes lifted to her. She was smiling, her eyelashes wet, and she looked incredibly delighted.

“The glasses?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered. “You’re spoiling me. I get glasses Javi in a tuxedo, and he’s gonna say pretty, romantic things about how much he loves me—talk about the best day ever.”

“With how you look?” he said. “It’s my best day ever, too.”

She playfully smacked his arm. “Stop it, don’t make me want to suck—”

Robyn started coughing loudly, and his wife-to-be’s eyes widened.

“—hug you more,” she tried to save and cringed. “Hugs, not drugs, am I right?” She chuckled nervously.

He snorted, shaking his head. “You ready?” he asked.

“Wait.” Her upper body twisted so she could look behind her. “Tissue me,” she said to Robyn, and her friend got a clean one out of her pocket and exchanged it for Cielito’s folded paper. She faced him again. “Okay, I’m ready. Remember to focus on me. No one else is here.”

“That’ll be easy.” He cleared his throat, his eyes moving to what he’d written. It wasn’t something he said often, but he let her first name slide off his tongue, thinking how perfect it was going to sound paired with his last. “—mi Cielito, mi amor, mi alma, mi media naranja, y ahora, mi esposa (My Cielito, my love, my soul, my soulmate, and now, my wife), my life didn’t begin until the moment I met you; what I mean by that, is I was alive, yes, I was breathing, I had a pulse, but I didn’t start living until we met. You made me want to live and be happy—for so long, I thought I would die miserable and alone, and you showed me that I deserved happiness and to be loved.” His eyes were burning, and the following sentence made him choke up. “You showed me I deserved a family of my own.” Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I thank the universe, the powers that be. I thank whoever let you find me because I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

He went off script to look into her beautiful, teary eyes. “Pop was right; I love you more than there’s blue in the sky, I love you more than there’s water in all the depths of the oceans, I love you more than there are stars in the entire galaxy—I love you more than anything, and I mean anything.”

He focused on what he’d written again. “I once told you I didn’t believe in true love, and I didn’t—that was just made-up stuff in the cartoon movies I watched with Olivia. Or at least I thought it was before you, and then, having you in my life, I discovered it was real. With you, ‘media naranja (soulmate)’ isn’t just a term of endearment; it’s an acknowledgment that you’re my other half and that we’re two parts meant to be together. Love with you transcends what most people have; we feel it deeper than our bones, all the way down into our souls, where we’re connected.

“Our love is true love.”

Wetness was dripping from his eyes to splatter onto the paper.

“Those fairytale movies got something right, and it’s that this kind of love would make a person fight dragons and sea witches for their true love. As my father said, it’s fierce, powerful, and all-consuming. It doesn’t end when our hearts stop beating; it continues on—it’s infinite—what we feel for one another is more than a single life can handle, and I’ll follow you when this one’s over; we’ll find each other again, and live another life together because there is no me without you or you without me.

“From the first day we met, I knew you were special. We spent hours talking in that bar, and I’ve never felt such peace or so comfortable with someone; with you, I don’t have to keep my guard up. I can be vulnerable, speak what’s on my mind, and openly show my affection. With you, I’m safe, and from the first night, you were my Cielito, my little heaven—there’s no better name for you, not with how happy you make me, how you make me feel, and how much better my life is with you.

“You’re my little heaven, mi Cielito, my everything. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known—thank you.” His voice faltered, and he had to wipe at his eyes as best he could beneath his glasses. “Those two words aren’t enough to express my gratitude, and I will spend every waking moment showing you how thankful I am for you and all you’ve done.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, “it’s not enough, but thank you.”

He sounded gravelly, the words thick. “In you, I’ve found love, a wife, a partner for life, a best friend, an incredible lover, a home, a teacher to show me how to live; someone who makes me happy, makes me laugh, someone to have a family with, who supports me, inspires me, and makes me want to be a better man.

“Thank you for being all of this and more. Thank you for marrying me today and making me the happiest man in the entire goddamn universe.

“Fuck,” he breathed, taking off his readers to hold with the paper while his other hand scrubbed away the tears. “I really hoped I wouldn’t cry this much—it’s embarrassing.”

“I love it,” she reassured. “It just shows you really mean what you’re saying.”

He put the lenses back on and looked at her, seeing her eyes were red from crying, the tissue in her hand stained with mascara—she’d managed to keep from ruining the rest of her makeup.

“I do mean it all,” he said.

She was smiling. “I know.”

Javier composed himself by taking a deep breath and clearing his throat. Finally, he was ready to speak again. “It was hard figuring out my vows because I wanted to promise you everything your heart could possibly desire, but Pop said that was boring.” He frowned.

“And that he needed to do better,” Chucho added.

Javier sighed.

“I would’ve been fine with that vow,” Cielito said.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Pop was right. You deserve the best.” He took another deep breath and slowly let it out, looking at what he’d written and patting himself on the back for making notes—he was definitely too emotional and tipsy to have remembered everything he wanted to say. “Cielito,” he started, “you have all my love and devotion, and I give you myself; my mind, body, and soul belong to you. I vow to never stop loving you, even when this earth is no more and the stars stop shining. I vow to make you feel loved and cherished until the end of my days. I vow to always be your best friend, your confidant, your shoulder to cry on, y un chismoso contigo (and a gossiper with you)—me encanta chismear contigo (I love to gossip with you).”

She giggled, and he smiled.

“I vow to be your equal in everything and give more than I take. I vow to always be there for you no matter what, in sickness and health, when life is easy and hard, I’ll stand by you and be your anchor.” The next one made his smile get bigger. “I vow to treat you like una reina (a queen) and be the best husband you could ask for so when you brag to your girlfriends, they can see their worth and deserve to be treated like queens, too. I vow to be the best father, one you can rely on, and doesn’t call watching my own children babysitting; I’ll pull my weight, I’ll never let you get overwhelmed, and I’ll be an active parent who loves our kids so fu-freaking much.”

“I vow to keep you safe and always make you feel safe; I’ll protect you and our children with my life. I vow to make sure all of your needs are met.” He smirked, glancing at her. “I vow to ‘fold laundry’ with you whenever you ask.” He winked, and she laughed.

“Why are adults so obsessed with laundry?” He heard Olivia ask.

“I’m wonderin’ the same thing, kiddo,” Robyn said. “I’m not obsessed with it.”

“Oh, believe me, you are,” Connie replied.

“I know the stars,” Javier said, “that astrology stuff you love, told you this already, but I want you to hear it from me, too: I vow to be loyal to you and faithful, always—to me, you are the only woman I see, or will ever want; I vow to put you and our family before all else.”

He looked at her with a smile. “I have some more things I’m gonna promise after hearing yours. I vow to always give you my pickles.” Her grin was big and happy as she giggled. “I vow to always let you sing Freddie Mercury’s parts in Bohemian Rhapsody while I do the guitar solo, and I’ll always leave you the last piece of cheesecake because I love you and value my life.” That made her giggle harder. “I vow to try, the keyword here is try, to not, as you put it, ‘creepily watch you while you sleep,’ even though you’re guilty of the same thing.” Her giggles transformed into laughter. “I vow to always dance with you when we’re cleaning the house and in the kitchen while we cook together. I vow to pretend—I mean, agree that you’re the best driver in Laredo and always know your way around, even when you don’t.”

There was a reason he drove them the majority of the time.

“Rude!” she gasped. “I’m an amazing driver!”

“I agree, mi amor, you’re the best in Laredo.” He winked again, folded his paper, and put it back in his inner pocket. He spoke as he took off his reading glasses. “There’s one more thing I vow,” he said, putting the lenses away. His hands were free and he grabbed hers, ignoring the tissue clenched in one of her palms, and stared adoringly into her eyes. “I vow that years from now—decades—after our kids are grown, and we’ve retired, maybe we’ll be living in Florida like other retirees, or we’ll still be here where our family lives and we made our best memories; I vow that when we’re old and grey and can’t hear or see shit without hearing aids or glasses, that we’ll look back on our life together, and we’ll have no regrets.

“Zero,” he said.

“We did everything we wanted and lived the life we shared to the fullest, filled with love, happiness, and laughter.”

Her shoulders started to shake, and she had to let go of his hand to blot at her eyes.

“Javier!” she cried, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. “Why would you end with something so sweet?”

“Para que sepas cómo nuestro futuro será (So you know what our future together will be like). Quería que vieras que cuando me des ese anillo, te daré mi futuro y lo que venga después de eso (I wanted you to see that when you give me that ring, I’ll give you my future and whatever comes after that).”

She leaned back to look at him, and he was impressed that only her mascara had gotten messed up. She poked him in the chest and said, “That ring is going on your finger right this second.” Javier chuckled as her head turned to his dad. “Can we do the rings now, please?”

Chucho laughed. “Yes, Mija, you can do the rings. Who has them?” he asked aloud.

“Me!” Steve answered and moved to stand next to the older man, being careful not to bump Nate, who’d fallen asleep in the backpack carrier. At some point, the three-year-old Stevie had gone over to his mom and was now sitting in the grass next to her, eating Goldfish crackers out of a plastic baggy from the diaper bag near them. Steve untied the ribbon keeping the gold bands secured, then picked them both up, the pillow getting shoved under his arm. “Here, Jav.” Javier turned a little, holding out his palm to his friend, and her ring was set in it. He faced his bride again.

“At this time, they will exchange rings,” Chucho said, holding his bible in front of him with the notecard atop it. “Javier, go ahead and place it on her finger.” She looked adorably giddy, presenting her left hand to him, and he held it in his palm as he slid the band onto the finger with her engagement ring, pressing it against the other. “Now, repeat after me,” his dad said, reading his notes, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

Javier’s eyes fastened onto hers, and he repeated what his father said: “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.” When he finished speaking, he lifted her hand to press his lips to the new addition on her finger with a kiss, keeping his gaze on her watery one.

“I love you,” she told him.

His thumb rubbed over the gold as he lowered her arm. “I love you, too.”

“Mija,” Chucho said, “it’s your turn.”

Javier held his hand out for her to take, and when she did, goosebumps rose on his skin, practically vibrating from anticipation. Her palm was smaller and softer than his, and he watched as Steve passed her the remaining ring. A big smile formed on his face at her not waiting for his father’s instruction, putting the band onto his finger immediately—it got stuck on his knuckle, and she had to wiggle it a little to finally slide it home.

“Repeat after me,” Chucho said, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

She held his larger palm in both of her smaller ones, gazing into his eyes and smiling as she said, “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

His breath hitched as he watched her raise his hand to kiss the band, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

His father started speaking to them, “Now that you’ve proclaimed your love for one another and exchanged rings as a seal of the promises you made today in front of these witnesses and myself, by the power vested in me by the great State of Texas, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife! Javier, you may now kiss your bride!”

There was clapping and hollering, someone patted his back, and Javier didn’t waste any time—he was told he could finally kiss this stunning woman in front of him, who he loved more than anything; she completed him and made him happy like no one else—ella es su vida (she is his life), su amor (his love), su media naranja (his soulmate), finalmente su esposa (finally his wife), his Cielito.

The fingers of one of his hands traced over the familiar line of her jaw, the other pulling her tight to his chest, finding the fabric of her dress was as buttery soft as he suspected. The sun had barely sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky fiery in its wake, and as it descended, so did Javier’s mouth onto hers, crushing his lips to hers. At the first touch, it felt like electricity was thrumming just below his skin, his heart racing, the press of her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck making tingles wash down his spine.

It was almost like he was kissing her for the first time, and it started out gentle, wanting to savor this moment with his wife—his wife—they were married. He was a husband and wearing a ring, the metal currently pressed to the warm skin of her cheek. His excitement got the better of him, and he deepened the kiss, licking in her mouth, her soft moan causing arousal to erupt in his belly, feeling blood begin to rush to his groin. She seemed to be just as ravenous as him, their tongues tangling and her hands gripping handfuls of his hair.

Javier didn’t think he could be happier than he was at this moment.

This was the best day of his entire fucking life.

He was a married man with an amazing wife and their lives were intertwined now, becoming one they both shared. What wound him up even more was her taking his last name—not in a possessive way, but because it was another thing they’d share, and Javier wanted to share everything with her. Name, life, home, things, children, all of it, he wanted to have and with her by his side.

His dad’s voice showed amusement when he heard him speak. “We’ll just let them get that out of their system.” People laughed. “It’s my great pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Peña!”

Mr. and Mrs. Peña.

Nothing sounded more perfect.

They hadn’t stopped kissing, too caught up in each other.

“Why are they trying to eat each other’s faces?” Olivia asked, clearly confused.

Steve shouted, “Cover her eyes, Connie!”

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

a/n: The song she walked down the aisle to was "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac. The bible verse mentioned is Song of Solomon 8:6-7 (RSVCE).

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #Javier Peña/you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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backtothefanfiction · 4 months

Text

Crown

Warnings: slight depress vibes with a fluffy pick me up, mentions of neglect/abandonment & family trauma

A/N: some more Daisy and Fix. I had a loose idea for this little imagine but just let it take me where it wanted to go. Feels a little under done and messy but isn’t that life anyway.

You love being at Saltburn, but it isn’t always easy. The hardest days always seem to be on those very rare sunny days when everyone, Elspeth and James included, lies out and enjoys the weather. On those days when it’s too hot to sit inside or work.

On those days, you can’t help but look at James and Elspeth, the way they dote not just on their own kids, but Farleigh, yourself - even Ollie. How parents should be. On those days it becomes particularly hard to ignore the circumstances of why you live at Saltburn.

You try to sit there and ignore that pit inside as it slowly grows, but every smile, every laugh, every kind attentive word from Elspeth to her own flesh and blood, it claws away at that hole until it’s too big to ignore. So big that just like Alice, you end up falling down the rabbit hole.

Felix sees when it happens. He knows exactly what the issue is, but he’d never make you talk about it in front of everyone. He also knows he can’t say anything to dim his mother’s light in able to fix things and make them better for you in those moments. You’ve talked it out together before. You’ll talk it out again and again in the quiet hours beneath the sheets before sleep. All he can do now is sit with you through it so you know you’re not alone. Let you know he’s there, your lifeline holding the rope to pull you back out again when you’re done free falling and that rope pulls tight.

He rests his head in your lap. He strokes loving circles on your thighs, but you’re falling so deep you barely notice.

You can barely hear the comment Ollie throw’s Elspeth’s way, but it’s her responding laugh that penetrates your senses and that rope finally pulls tight. It’s so sudden, so taught as it brings you back to the present you think it might just snap. The resounding thoughts make you finally leave, politely excusing yourself making up some excuse about why you need to pop into the house.

You smile to the staff as you make your way inside and head straight to your safe space, the one place you know no one will bother coming to find you. No one except Felix.

He doesn’t come straight away, leaving you enough time that it doesn’t alert everyone else that something is wrong. Another conversation the two of you had had in the past. Elspeth and James were so nice to take you in when your parents fled the country and left you behind, you didn’t want to feel like more of a burden than you already did. Didn’t want them to think their generosity all these years was in vain.

You logged into the computer in the corner of the library to check your email, to see if you had anything at all from your siblings or your parents. Nothing. It only cemented those feelings of abandonment even more and you couldn’t help the tears that silently began to roll down your cheeks as you realised you’d finally reached the bottom of that pit inside you.

It’s like he knew you were pulling on the lifeline to be brought back up. When he appeared in the doorway to the library you had sat yourself on a chair in front of one of the windows, looking out at the grounds. You remembered the summer days as kids in the days before, running around on the grass with Felix, Venetia and Farleigh while your parents were inside talking. You remember, each of you a water pistol in hand, a couple buckets of water balloons spread across the green. You had split into two teams. You had wanted to be partnered with Felix, but Venetia had called girls vs boys. Even then Felix still somehow played the role of a gallant knight as Farleigh tried to throw a water bomb grenade at you. He’d crossed in front of you and took the hit, much to his cousins chagrin.

You’d always played silly games out there before crashing, all your energy zapped as you lay out on the grass to dry out or recharge. You’d find yourself picking daisies and weaving them into crowns or bracelets for everyone. It’s like he knew that’s what you were thinking about now.

“Here, I think you dropped this.” He said as he stepped across the room to you, a chain of daisies held carefully in his fingertips. You gave him a small smile as you brushed away the tears on your cheeks and he placed the flower crown on your head. “Daisies for my Daisy.” He said.

He sat in the seat opposite you and you reached out a hand to his. “I love you, Fix.”

“I know.” He said with a smile before he leaned forward for a kiss. “You know it’s not your fault, okay? It was never your fault.” He reassures you.

“I know.” You reply with a half hearted smile.

“Come on, let’s go stick a movie on or something.” He says, hands rubbing carefully on the tops of your thighs before he holds his open arms up for you to take.

You spend the next hour on the sofa in the adjoining TV room cuddled up with him rewatching Mean Girls for the millionth time.

“I love you, Fix.” You murmer against his side as you snuggle in closer.

His arm grows tighter, protective, across your shoulders as he pulls you in tighter to him, “I love you too.” He says as he kissed the top of your head.

#felix catton imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton fluff #felix catton #saltburn imagines #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #summers at saltburn

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norrizzandpia · 8 months

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She Doesn’t Know Who I Am (LN4)

Summary: Lando’s in New York and no one knows who he is. Especially the girl who asks for his number.

Warnings: nothing really, the vaguest inference to alcohol consumption? If that, man, but lmk if i missed any ofc

Lando was always weary of the United States. From the intrusive people to the crazed, horrific politics, he always tried to stay away. However, once a year, or season, he had an obligation to make an appearance in one of the fifty maniacal states. This year, the region in which would be graced with his chaotic presence was that of New York.

Y/n was the typical college student, ruthless and stupid as she went through her days at NYU. Crazy parties and a lack of sleep filled her days as she struggled to get through her second to last year in school. While part of her hated the way New York operated and how unsafe she felt, there was nothing like the beauty of the city. Her whole life had been spent in a small town where she felt trapped and alone, but in the big city, she felt a part of something, almost as if she was finally contributing to something. What she was contributing to, she didn’t know, but, in her mind, that didn’t really matter.

What did matter, however, was her friends dragging her out of bed and forcing her to go out with them whilst on two hours of sleep.

“I can get bagels literally any day. Please,” She put her hands in prayer as she pleaded with her best friend, “Paige, let me go back to bed.”

Paige looked back at her as if she had grown three heads, “No way. You go back to bed now, you’ll sleep all day and then be screwed up tomorrow. Then, you’ll complain about your sleep schedule being off and get mad at me for not waking you up. This is a much easier Y/n to deal with, thank you very much.”

Her response seemed to shut Y/n up as she hung her head low and trotted behind her brunette friend.

—

The walk to the bagel place had been longer than usual as they ran into George, a homeless man who lived at the end of their street and they had come to love. He had been there since the moment they moved in, coming and going as he moved to different places to sleep. After a few years of becoming friends with him, they learned he was a veteran who came back with severe PTSD, and, in turn, had to deal with tumultuous debts for his tries to stop the depressing spiral. While he had successfully gotten over the painful flashbacks, he never came back from the money he owned, the main reason why he ended up on the streets. The girls had found sympathy for the man and whenever he was there, sitting at the end of their block, they gave him fifty dollars each, whether they were struggling with their own financial burdens or not.

His smile had sent them into the rest of their breakfast with happier attitudes as Y/n’s annoyance for being conscious disappeared. However, they returned for the entire duration they spent waiting in the long line in the cramped, stuffy deli. Nonetheless, once she had scarfed down her bagel sandwich and chugged some water, she found life to be much lighter.

—

Lando, on the other hand, had been wandering around Central Park aimlessly with Max and a few other McLaren PR employees. The group had been out shooting content for both the racing company and his own company, Quadrant. Checking out different sights and throwing middle fingers up when they crossed the Trump building, the two boys found themselves having lots of fun in the country they thought so little of.

“Maybe this shit isn’t that bad?” Max chuckled as they stared at the lake that stretched across the park, a piano sounding lightly behind them from a street performer.

Lando nodded, liking the way no one was recognizing him and he could just be, “Yeah, maybe it’s just the politics that dampens the whole thing.”

—

“I’ll seriously never get over how stunning it is in here,” Y/n whispered as she and Paige strolled through a particularly secluded area of Central Park.

“Mhm, me neither.” Paige smiled as the two girls cherished the moment together.

Y/n turned her head to catch the brunette’s brown eyes, “Ever think about what would have happened if we never met?”

Paige pulled a look, “Absolutely not. That sounds like hell.”

“You’re not wrong.” Y/n laughed, “But, seriously, like, how would we even be surviving right n-”

Her abrupt stop to her sentence had Paige turning to look at the girl. With Y/n’s jaw dropped and cheeks ablaze, she followed her best friend’s eyeline, stumbling upon two boys who looked about the same age as them.

“Wow.” Y/n said aloud as she stared, mesmerized, at the man.

“Which one are you looking at?” Paige tried to decipher.

“Brown curls,” Y/n responded immediately, allowing her best friend to finally hone in on the boy of her friend’s choosing.

Paige smiled softly as she pictured Y/n with the boy standing in front of them, a cute couple they would be.

“He’s cute. Go ask for his number!” Paige said excitedly as she pushed Y/n in the direction of the particularly striking young man.

Y/n instantly paled, “What?! No way! Absolutely not!”

“Why?! Y/n, you literally haven’t dated anyone since freshman year. Come on, you’ll never even see him again if he rejects you. Please? For me, at least?” Paige pleaded, giving her best friend a look that she couldn’t turn away.

Huffing, Y/n began walking away, muttering, “The things I do for you.”

—

Y/n first caught Lando’s eye in his peripheral. The quick flash of y/h/c had him turning around to quickly glance at the newfound presence.

He almost lost his footing at the sight of her.

Black leggings and a sweatshirt never looked so good on someone as she approached him. His eyes were followed by Max, the boy laughing at a Lando who was clearly very taken by the girl coming up to them.

“If she asks to take a picture, I’m going to be so devastated,” Lando whispered as she smiled at them, the sight making him want to melt to the ground and beg her to go out with him.

It dawned on him that he didn’t even know her name yet, but that was a passing thought as she came to stop in front of him.

“Hi,” She stared up at him, clearly nervous, “My friend is forcing me to do this, so don’t think I’m doing this willingly.”

Her next few words Lando was already preparing himself for. Either her sentence could send him into a euphoric orbit or she could crush his dreams by being a fan.

She took a deep breath, Lando smiling at her cute demeanor, before she continued, “I just thought you were really cute and thought that, maybe, I could get your number? My name’s Y/n, by the way.”

Max was quick to jump infront of his lovestruck friend, not trusting the girl’s intentions.

“Sorry, he doesn’t give out his number.” He shot out, Y/n grimacing as she took in the embarrassment.

“Is he a celebrity or something?” She tried to recover with jokes, but it just made the faces of the two boys pale more.

The one that she liked, the one with the soft curls, stepped in front of his friend as he shook his head, “No, no. He’s just overprotective,” He sent his friend a threatening gaze, “I’m Lando and I would love to give you my number.”

Y/n was too caught up in the meaning behind Lando’s look to catch the way he was staring down at her, brown eyes big and round as he shot her a toothy grin. Their eyes met, and she flushed under his stare.

Tucking some hair behind her ear, she quickly got out her phone, “Oh, cool! Here you go.”

Lando’s fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed in his work phone number, not his personal. While he wanted to trust in her cluelessness, he couldn’t be that reckless.

Sliding her phone back to her in a way that allowed for their fingers to brush against each other, Y/n beamed triumphantly, something Lando knew he was going to grow to love.

She stood there for a few moments before nodding her head and beginning her walk back to her friend, “I’ll call you soon. We’ll figure something out.”

Lando nodded eagerly at her, a sign that he liked her just as much as she liked him. When her figure was a dot in the distance, Max turned to him and smacked him on the chest, “What the hell do you think you’re doing!? You can’t just shovel out your number like that! That was way too dangerous, Lando.”

His stern lecture had Lando rolling his eyes, “Max, two things. 1) I gave her my work phone, and 2) I’m willing to bet my seat in McLaren that she has no clue who I am.”

His best friend shifted on his feet as he looked at him, “You really think so?”

Lando nodded, “Yeah. I’ve seen fans try to play it cool, and even then, when they outwardly say they know my favorite flavor of ice cream, I can tell they’re freaking out on the inside. Her nerves seemed more to be the type of just asking a random stranger out rather than meeting her idolized driver.”

Max shook his head, “If you insist.”

—

Paige smiled proudly at her best friend as they began making their way out of the park, “So, what was his name anyway?”

Y/n thought hard for a moment before guessing, “Land? Lanyard? Something like that. I can’t remember. I was too caught up in his biceps to comprehend anything he was saying to me. I just hope he isn’t a murderer.”

NOTE: lmk if you guys want me to make a part 2 to this where they go out on a few dates and a month in or so she finds out or he tells her (something roughly like that)

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #mclaren #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #max fewtrell #new york #big apple #the big city #i love that city

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yourlocalcryptidbee · 23 days

Text

⭐Lucifer Morningstar Headcanons

Headcannons about the lovely Lucifer Morningstar and the ways he acts with the even lovelier reader! Grab some snacks and a beverage, get comfy and enjoy <3

~1k words

GN-ish! Reader (mentions of hair long enough to braid that’s it) NOT proof read.

Dude hates crowds, like has a burning(get it? hellfire? burning…never mind) hatred for them, most of them anyways. Crowds, people in general, can’t seem to think for themselves when around him. It’s always ‘whatever you want, your majesty,’ ‘don’t let us stop you, your majesty’ ‘we’ll do whatever you ask, your Majesty’ It reminds him of Heaven and the councils, and the masses, and the sermons….the list goes on. It’s Groupthink on steroids. A complete echo chamber that a young Lucifer tried to break. That version of Lucifer stood up to the majority and lost everything because of it. Of course that man still can’t stand it, especially now that he’s on the other end of it. He wishes that sinners could at least try to have a personality around him, not just a bunch of spineless pushovers, ready to wait hand on foot in fear of being smote.

He likes to watch you, not in a creepy way! At least he hopes that it isn’t creepy to you. Simply put, Lucifer likes to see you there, see you take up space in his home. Although he isn’t apposed to helping cook breakfast or clean, he’d much rather just watch you do it. It’s a comfort thing for him, watching you physically move around and disturb his space reminds him that you’re real and not something his mind made up as a last ditch effort to fix his depression. In the beginning when you would sleep over at his house, Lucifer wouldn’t make his bed after you left. He’d just leave all the bunched up blankets and sheets exactly how you left them. It made him feel less lonely when he had to sleep by himself the next night.

Frivolous. Like, truly does not care how much he spends on shit. Couldn’t even try to think about caring. It doesn’t matter to him. Partly due to his pride, he’s the big dick in charge of hell! of course he has the money for that 24k gold and diamond encrusted something or other. Especially if he’s buying something for you or Charlie. Your wish is his command after all.

His house is sssssoooo dusty. After his divorce he had quarantined himself to his bedroom, bathroom and office. He never went anywhere else in his house, he would portal himself between the rooms when necessary so he didn’t even use the hallways! Which one could imagine would leave a substantial amount of dust EVERYWHERE. He had invited you to his home for the first time on a whim, feeling proud of himself for finally asking and had coincidently walked through his front door, only to cough from inhaling so much dust. That pride turned to horror as he realized he only had an hour to clean his house before you showed up. That man had never moved faster in his life. He was so focused, unfortunately sometimes on the wrong things, I mean why was he cleaning the support beams that were 15 feet high and attached to the ceiling and not, I don’t know, the kitchen!?

Lucifer cannot throw things away. Just look how long he wore his wedding band after he and Lilith split. In fact, he still has kept the ring after getting together with you, though he’s not wearing it, Lucifer just couldn’t bring himself to get rid of something like that. It still lives in a nice box in the very back of his nightstand. This is even worse when it comes to gifts from either you or Charlie. It could be the stupidest thing and he’ll cherish it and hold onto it for eternity. All those rocks, broken crayons, leaves, and bottle caps that baby Charlie gave to him? All tucked away safely to this day, hell, sometimes he’ll look through it all as a little pick me up. Maybe this has to do with being physically thrown out of his home in heaven or maybe he just is sentimental, even Lucifer doesn’t know.

Loves having his wings be taken care of. It was hard after he fell from heaven, those beautiful white wings now a blood red? Not something he liked to look at. It reminds of what he failed to do and of the pain he created for all of humanity. Having you take care of that is so special to him. You take the time to preen his wings and make sure they’re perfect. One of the things that are constantly reminding him of his failure as an angel is just so easily accepted and loved by you. Something so small to you, means the world to him. You can look at something that symbolizes failure and still love it unconditionally because it’s Lucifer’s? Yeah, he loves it that you take care of him.

Will 1000% make dad jokes when he doesnt know what to say. It’s honestly adorable. This happened on multiple occasions when your relationship was still new. A conversation would finish and there’d be a lull or a pregnant pause, and then he’d just “what-what do you call a can opener that’s broken?”

“a can’t opener. ”

Cue his quiet, stifled yet awkward laughter at his own joke and the distant groan from Charlie who has probably heard that a million times already.

Has a gift for braiding hair. Honestly, he’s pretty good at styling hair in general but allow him to braid your hair and his talent just shines through. His own hair has some length to it so he has in fact braided his own hair but come on, his (ex)wife and baby girl have some of the longest blonde hair in the underworld, of course, he knows what he’s doing. Doesn’t matter what style or where the braid originated, he can do it. The cherry on top is that when he’s combing out your hair beforehand, there isn’t a single tug. Could this be magic? Yes. Could this also be a skill carefully cultivated over the literal millennia he’s been alive? Also yes.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #headcanon #x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #i tried #Smote is in fact the past tense of smite #learn something new every day #lucifer morningstar

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fruitmins · 23 days

Text

Agust Dad—Nine

➭ summary: Your a producer from another company that he happened to be collaborating with on his 2nd album D-2. At the release party- one drunk action leads to another, you do the worst thing you can do in the industry

➭ genre: short series, pregnancy au, idol au, angst, dad au

➭ warnings: angst but also not that angsty??, rushed to edit this so WILL have mistakes, self hate talk, poor communication skills

note: wow been a while. in the months i’ve been gone it’s turned into a new year and i’ve just recently turned the age of a legal adult (hooray?). how have you guys been? this chapter hit a lil too personally as someone who cannot communicate and pushes ppl out so i hope y’all like it😭🫰🏾again taglist is: closed.

Taglist: @welcometomyworld13 @tatyhend @jiminiesunicorn @littlestarstinyseven @baechugff @thelilbutifulthings @tearykth @familiarlikemymirror3 @coree730 @prajusstuff @wobblewobble822 @choisoorin @manuosorioh @0funsite0 @whipwhoops @bergandysam @aloverga @illnevertrustmyselfagain @silentreadersthings @butterymin @girl-nahh @linneasblog @cuntessaiii @nikkiordonez12 @chl0buggy @serendididy @llallaaa @ghostlyworld @roguesthetic @captainchrisstan @bxcndd @lukeys-giggle @mint--yoongs @hyunjaespresent-deobi @yes-suga @gimeow @coffeedepressionsoup @mixedfandxms

You were stupid.

As much as you wanted to gaslight yourself into the thinking that the few days of silence is just what you need to clear your mind and have some space after all of the hectic chaos going around, it wasn’t as peaceful as you hoped. The silence started to turn more uncomfortable, becoming deafening and depressing quickly.

So on the third day, when the ringing of the doorbell broke the silence, somewhere inside the self pity you had been drowning in the last couple of days was grateful.

It’s short lived.

Being the baby mama of a famous Kpop idol billionaire, you knew it was only a matter of time before someone came knocking and looking for you sooner or later. That part you guessed. What was making you nervous was the fact that you didn’t know who was going to come.

Was it a crazy fan who somehow managed to find out where you stayed (which was still in Yoongi’s house, ironically)? Was it a member of BTS themselves? Or worst of all, was it Yoongi.

The thought made you so nervous and sick to your stomach. Out of all the awkward interactions you were avoiding the one with Yoongi the most, though that wasn’t hard to do recently. You had kicked him out and broke your only form of communication aka your phone.

There’s a knock on the door a couple seconds later, not a doorbell, a knock. Then another, and another. There is a sense of urgency to the knocks, like whoever is at the door is afraid to wait any longer before trying to speak to you.

You finally get up from the bed, your legs shaking a little bit from standing. You move slowly towards the door, trying to calm your nerves.

It is too silent outside the door, and you have no idea about the identity of the person standing outside. It can be anyone, and in a way, it's scary but you have half a brain to look through the peephole to prepare yourself for whoever it is.

Your eyes widen and your face pales when you see a familiar face, one you hadn’t really thought about. Harin.

She doesn’t look her best which was unlike her. Usually she’d have on at least a bit of makeup and dress nicely, no matter where she was or where she was going. She was classy, and always had on a caring, bright smile. No matter how much struggle it was being in the spotlight because of Jin or being away from Jin because of his job, she was strong. She was everything you wanted to be, you in an alternate universe where you had met Yoongi under the right circumstances.

But looking at her now, on your doorstep with very noticeable eyebags and a dying look of worry, some guilt hits you, and all you want to do is throw the door open and cry into her arms. You had always kept people and friends at a distance, it felt so different to want to seek out someone’s comfort. Maybe this is what it was like to trust and care heavily about people, you didn’t know. Everything nowadays was new to you.

You slowly open the door with a shaky hand, your heart skipping a beat when her head snaps over to the sound of it finally opening.

“Harin..” her name slips from your mouth in a shaky breathless voice. Harin nods, her entire face filled with compassion and worry. One look at you and she can see that you haven't been doing well at all and you can only imagine the amount of pity she’s feeling.

She looks at you for a moment before speaking softly. "I heard about everything that's been going on, please... let me come inside." Her voice is calm and reassuring, as if trying to be as gentle as possible with you. She was treating you as a time bomb, and as much as you wanted that to anger you, it was impossible to be mad at her.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, you want to tell her it’s not a good time or something. You want to turn her away, like you do with everyone else in your life, like you did with Yoongi. You want to go back to drowning in your sorrows and depression until eventually you become a rock.

But she looks so emotional, so hurt. And suddenly you don’t have the balls to push her away. For the first time ever, you let someone in. You let someone help you instead of pushing them out.

“Okay.” You say weakly, barely being able to direct your voice to her. You open the door more and move to the side so she can come inside.

Harin nods, her eyes widening as she steps inside before closing the door behind her quietly. She doesn't say anything more, going directly towards you. Without warning, she enfolds you in a warm and gentle hug.

"Oh, Y/N, I'm so sorry for everything," she whispers passionately, rubbing the top of your back. "I-I'm just so sorry." Her voice is small but filled with emotion.

The sudden hug catches you off guard, and to your own surprise you melt immediately into the warm comforting embrace.

“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” You ask, fighting back a smile as you hug her back tightly.

Harin lets out a sigh. "So, So many things," she whispers. "I'm sorry you're going through this right now, I'm sorry I haven't been there for you enough. I-"

She can't continue, her words choking her up but you are quick to shake your head dismissively anyways. “Stop. If anything I should be sorry. I took the spotlight off of you and Jin’s special accomplishment. I messed up your proposal and I’ll probably just mess up your wedding too so you shouldn’t even invite-“

“Stop,” she’s the one to say it this time, frowning and shaking her head. “You’re absolutely going to be at my wedding. You’re my best friend.” She says passionately, pulling away from the hug to look you in your eyes. “I'm not letting you go through this alone, no matter how hard things get..."

“Thank you, Harin.” You respond in a whisper, your heart fluttering as you pull her back into the hug tightly. Seconds after there’s a small stab of pain in your stomach, causing me to groan and close your eyes and lean onto her for support.

Harin flinches as she feels your sudden

movement towards her, then notices your hand grab onto your stomach. Her heart sinks when she realizes what it means, her eyes flaring with shock and concern.

"Your stomach... does it hurt?" she asks softly, her voice filled with worry for you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah..” you take a step back to ground yourself. “Just been stressed lately.” You mumble, trying but failing to reassure her.

"I know the feeling..." Harin whispers, still looking at your abdomen. “Come sit.” She says, holding your hand and ushering you to sit down.

“Thanks..” you mumble, slowly sitting onto the couch as Harin watches you closely as she helps you settle. "You sure everything with the baby is okay?" she whispers softly, her eyes filled with concern and worry.

“I think.” ‘I hope.’

“I don’t want to go outside, let alone a hospital.” You say with a sigh, looking up at Harin who gives you a sympathetic expression. She nods in understanding, “I know how you feel," she says quietly. "The outside can be so scary at times... especially when there are so many people watching your every move."

You let out a small smile and nod, of course Harin understood. You couldn’t imagine all she had been through when she first started dating Seokjin. It was a relief to have at least one person who knew what you were going through. Her and someone else.

“..How’s Yoongi?” The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a tiny bit concerned curious about how he was doing. But you knew a part of you were asking from a place of guilt, some part of you knew you had overreacted the slightest bit. Because it was like you, to push people away when things got too serious.

Harin’s eyes widen in surprise, almost as if she was surprised you even brought him up. She blinks a few times before speaking. "I talked to him earlier today," she whispers softly.

She opens her mouth again, lashing hesitantly before actually saying anything. She looks at you for a few moments, debating on whether or not she should continue. She looks thoughtful for a moment - then lets out an exhausted sigh.

"He's been really worried about you," she states honestly, letting out a short breath. "He was really hurting when you kicked him out... honestly, he's not doing too well right now."

“Really?” You don’t want to admit that the news is sickening, because you still cared about him, despite everything. Harin nods, “Jin says it’s worse than when they first debuted. Overworking himself, not eating, not speaking.”

Your elbows go to your knees as you bury your face in your hands. To say you felt awful was an understatement. “I don’t know what to do, Harin. I just..I felt hurt. He kept something so big from me no matter what the reason.” You shake your head, swallowing nervously.

“What would you have done?”

She winced, thinking about if she was in your shoes. "I... I would have heard him out, before I made my decision," she says softly and you sigh, knowing she was probably right. "I understand that you felt betrayed," she admits. "But it wasn't intentional, he just didn't know how to talk to you..."

She looks at the ground, her voice softening even more. "He didn't know how to handle this... honestly, neither one of you do. But there's still a chance you can work things out if you talk to each other."

You swallow, tears welling up in your eyes as a bunch of emotions cloud your mind. “I don’t know how to do that Harin. How to communicate.”

Her face immediately softened, pulling you into another hug. “Give it as much time as you need for yourself," she continues. "Just don't shut him out... he wants to be there for you... just like I do."

Harin looks at you for a moment then smiles. "You're not alone now, okay?"

Your eyes go to the phone in pieces next to the wall at her words as your mind wanders to similar words.

i’m here now

The first stupid text that started everything. The text that you stupidly didn’t listen to. The stupid text that showed how horrible you were for not communicating when he was.

You were stupid.

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elusive---ivory · 11 months

Text

Yandere!Emo-Boyfriend x GN!Reader

These ideas keep coming to me like a plague of moths. I saw a fic today that had this same theme, and I wanted it to be longer. Whoever had this original idea gets all the credit, I just wanted to make my own thing, lmaooooooo. TW: manipulation, gore, gaslighting, emo things, mentions of bullying, and depression.

The Emo Boy in your class was a shy kid. He didn't want much to do with anyone. He felt quite reserved and isolated from the crowd. He'd do anything to fit in with the popular crowd. But, as he soon realized, he would never be like the other kids. He wore his hair down, with swoopy bangs.

Ezra was an emotional time bomb, with a fascination for gore and fantasy horror. Ever since he was a small boy, he deeply loved horror. He often wondered what killing someone and taking their blood would be like. His mind was often filled with dark things.

He could understand that people were put off by his morbid interests. One day, Ezra brought in a dead rabbit, hoping to get a reaction out of the popular people. He had bumped into you, accidentally throwing the dead rabbit on the ground.

"Woah, watch it!" Ezra snapped. He glared at you for a second, then his expression soften. He wasn't too interested in a lot of people, but as you smiled and picked up the dead rabbit.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your science project." You said, kindly.

"Uh, it's not for a science project. It's for a prank, dweeb." He quickly ran off. Ezra felt his heart palpitate. The feeling he had in his chest lingered throughout the day. He never had crushes, but maybe you were different. All the other people in the school hated him.

You were like his saving grace. Ezra was drawn near you. Unwillingly, he began to sit by you at lunch. Ezra would usually chug his monster, then wolf down most of his lunch before the bell rang, but today was different. He sat next to you and handed you a note.

Written in very fine handwriting that read,

'Will you go out with me?'

You were very flattered by the offer. After all, he was quite handsome. You walked up to him, pulling him into an embrace. Ezra was surprised. He expected the worst, but he pulled you close, resting his chin on top of your head.

You were wonderful to him. You watched all his favorite horror movies with him. You'd talk to him for hours about your day, and he was captivated by your little habits. You were like breathing to him. Ezra couldn't remember his life without you. Ezra would give you dead roses, and trinkets he'd find on the side of the road. You would give him your love in return. Ezra enjoyed your kisses. Whether it be on the mouth or cheek, he would be drunk off the taste of your lips.

His taste for dead things never subsided. Ezra would show you all the latest roadkill he'd find. Unlike most of your classmates, you encouraged this behavior. Collecting bones slowly became your hobby.

He became protective over you. People couldn't just walk up and talk to you. They needed to talk to Ezra first. He would shake anyone he didn't approve of away. Most of the time, Ezra's insecurities would manifest in unhealthy ways. Ezra wouldn't have a direct conversation about it. He prefers to suffer alone, even though you love him with all your heart.

When people get too close to you, his insecurity comes out. He's terrified of losing you, so anyone that shows little interest must be eliminated. You notice slowly your social circle starts to get smaller and smaller. Maybe you didn't need those people, but you were concerned when people you knew started showing up missing.

There was a boy in your math class that you were working with. Ezra must've caught you working with him. This sent him into a frenzy. Ezra was a very jealous man. No one else should be alone with you. Doesn't everyone know that you're in his bleeding heart?

Ezra stalked the boy. He followed him home and waited for the right time to strike. He killed him, disposing of his body in the pond. When you inquired about the red on his shoes the next day, he simply said, "Oh, darling, that's just from painting my car. You don't need to worry about it. I love you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend x reader #yandere emo boyfriend x reader #yandere core #yandere boyfriend #yandere boy #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #lovesick

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