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javierpena-inatacvest · 19 days

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Chapter 20 pt. 2- I Do

Summary: It's wedding time, baby.

Word Count: 17.4K (.....I'm so sorry)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink, big, fat, nasty, unspeakable breeding kink (holy SHIT you guys, I really went balls to the wall on this one, I fear), kind of semi-public sex (you already know these horndogs are going at it again), More getting caught (Steve is causing his own problems at this point), wedding things!!, family dynamics, mentions of death/grief, lots of emotions, alcohol/drinking, so many feelings (grab the tissues, friends), Javi being adorable with kids, Javi being so in LOVE it HURTS?!? So much joy and happiness because Javi deserves the world and more

A/N: HELLO. Part 2 is finally finished *insert Spongebob narrator voice* 4 years later 🫠 Omg y'all, thank you SO much for bearing with me as I finish this, it has been a labor of love like no other, but I am so excited to finally share our favorite couple's special day and finally GET THESE TWO MARRIED 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I would very much be lying if I said I didn't cry multiple times writing this chapter 🥺 I can't believe these two are actually getting married- words can't express how thankful I am for everyone who's wanted to stick around and read my silly little story to see these two make it to their wedding day- your support and kind words mean more to me than you will ever know 💛 Poorly beta'd bc I'm the worst, also, I've seen that sometimes people have issues reblogging things with comments that are this long (my apologies), but comments and reblogs make me wanna cry and throw up with joy, so it means a lot to me if you're able to leave a comment if it won't let you reblog with one!!!

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Never had you been so anxious to walk in a straight line.

Because truth be told, that was all you needed to do to walk down the aisle- walk in a straight line.

But when that straight line meant the walk to finally get to marry your future husband, to take his last name, to start the beginning of your forever together, not to mention kissing him in front of all your closest family and friends, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach swirling in anticipation as you waited for your ceremony to start.

“You okay, Hermosa?” Javi asked, his thumb gently stroking your hand that he had been holding since the moment he saw you, almost as if he was refusing to let go. You looked up at him, big brown puppy dog eyes staring down at you with a goofy grin that hadn’t left his face, the sight of his handsome, broad frame easing your racing heart enough to help you remember that when you walked down that aisle in a few short minutes, he was the only thing that mattered.

“I’m perfect.” You smiled, pressing up on your toes just enough to peck his lips quickly before someone in the wedding party needed to barrate you both again about saving your kissing until after you were finally married. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this many people staring all at me at once. Knowing my luck, I’m gonna trip and fall over this dress before I can even make it to you. Or better yet, with my dumbass decision to have David and Charlie walk me down the aisle, I’ll be lucky if they don’t push me to the ground first.”

“Well, even if you did fall, you would still be the most beautiful woman on the face of this Earth. My clumsy, grass-stained wife.” Javi snickered, giving you a little nudge as you rolled your eyes, giving him a playful shove back.

“Pendejo. You have both of our vows books, right? You promise you haven’t peeked?”

“Yup, both right here in my pocket.” Javi smiled, patting his tux by his chest. “Promise I haven’t read it. Although for my sake I probably should have, because if I can’t even make it through seeing you in your dress, then these vows are gonna make me a fuckin’ goner.”

“Bold of you to assume I had nice things to say about you in there.” You teased, raising your eyebrow as you smirked at him, making Javi shake his head as he laughed.

“Alright everyone, it’s 3:00, it’s time to get this show on the road! Make sure you’re in order like we practiced, that you take your time walking down to the music, girls, please do not throw petals at each other, and make sure you all- Javi, where are you? You’re supposed to be at the front of this line, sir.” Connie sassed, proving to you that she really was the perfect person for the task of making sure that things ran smoothly today, bossing the group around like the captain of a well organized ship.

“Sorry, I’m coming,” Javi replied sheepishly. “I love you, Osita.” Sliding the hand that was entangled with yours around your waist, Javi pulled you in for a kiss, much more obviously than he probably should have, considering the shit the two of you were about to get being literal minutes away from getting married.

“Javier! Get you A-S-S up here! Kiss her all you want once you say I do!” Connie shouted, rolling her eyes at the two of you, Javi pulling away in defense with his hands raised, trying to prove his innocence.

“Oh, I know what that one spells, Mrs. Murphy! That one spells-”

“Javi? Please?” Connie asked again, quickly trying her best to cut off your niece, Olivia, before she could finish the rest of her thought in front of everyone else, making the group giggle at her matter of factness.

“Okay, okay, I’m here!” Javi pleaded, making his way to the front of the procession, taking his place next to his dad as Connie did one more check through of everyone’s spot in line before giving the music an all clear to start playing.

As you stood at the end of the line, you peeked up to see Javi turned around staring back at you with that same stupid smile on his face, completely enamored and awestruck by you, already convincing you that you were going to turn into a puddle before you could even make it down the aisle.

But as you went to re-adjust your bouquet in your grasp, you quickly realized there were not one, but two things missing from your procession line, now about to start walking down the aisle.

Your brothers.

Despite having seen them only seconds ago, as you quickly whipped your head around, they were now nowhere to be found.

“Charlie? David? Where the fuck did you go?” You whisper shouted, frantically looking around for any sight of them.

Suddenly, you heard a rustling from one of the bushes around the corner from where you had been lined up and waiting, followed by the all too familiar voices of your brothers up to no good.

“Just finish it you dingus, I already drank the first half!”

“Why the fuck did we leave this out here? It’s fucking warm. You got the better half, that’s not fair!”

“It was warm when I drank it too, dumbwad. Just finish it, we gotta fucking go, hurry up!”

As you peered behind the bush, you saw your brothers wiping their mouth with the back of their hands as the tossed a can of Miller Lite to the ground, freezing in fear as they saw your menacing and disappointed glare staring back at them.

“What the fuck do you two think you’re doing?!”

“It was David’s idea!” Charlie responded, pointing at his brother.

“Charlie didn’t say no!” David responded back, now pointing at him. “You didn’t expect us to get through this sober, did you? You’re the one who asked us to marry you, so I don’t know what to tell ya, Cubby. Plus, we wanted to pour one out for Patrick since he’s the luckiest bastard out of all of us and doesn’t have to worry about fucking up marrying his little sister.”

“God, you two are idiots. Well that thing you agreed to do is happening as we speak so can we go do that, please?” You sighed, trying your best not to laugh at your brother’s antics, knowing that you really should have expected nothing less from the pair after you and Javi had asked them to officiate your wedding, considering neither of you had wanted anything religious, and wanted someone who knew you to be the ones to do it.

“Okay, okay!” They replied, one rushing to each side of you and hooking their arm around yours as you made your way back to your spot at the end of the processional line that had now begun to move forward.

“Where were you 3 dumbbells? The ceremony is starting!” Your dad gruffed, trying his best to restrain from slapping each of you upside the head.

“Cubby wanted a beer.” David replied, shrugging his shoulders, keeping his head facing forward, trying his best not to laugh.

“Honey, seriously?!” Your mom scolded, looking at you with disgust.

“I did not! I was trying to find these two idiots!” You groaned, eying your brothers as they shook you back and forth between them in their grasp. “I hate you both, I hope you know that.”

“We love you too, Cubby.” Charlie smirked, knowing that for as much as you said it, there wasn’t a bone in your body that could hate your brothers. For as dumb and annoying as they were, there would never be another moment you would take for granted with them, knowing all too well that life was much too short to do anything but cherish your time together, wishing you had more time to spend with the brother who couldn’t be here with you today.

Before you could respond, your thought was interrupted by the voice of the DJ through the speakers set up outside, your heart steadily beginning to pound at the reality that everything you had been waiting for was all about to become real.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen if you could please find your seats, we’re about to get started with our ceremony! Thank you so much, folks!” As his voice echoed through the speakers, a hush began to fall over the crowd of your friends and family that had gathered here, now anxiously alongside you for the ceremony to begin.

A few seconds passed before you could hear the music beginning to play, the familiar melody of “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac ringing through the speakers- an easily unanimous pick for a song to walk down the aisle to for you and Javi, remembering the first night you had spent together in your apartment, making midnight mac n’ cheese and already falling head over heels in love with each other.

As the beat began to pick up, your heart started to race, peaking over the backs of everyone’s heads to watch all 5 of your flower girls begin to skip down the aisle, throwing petals every which way around them as they moved.

You couldn’t help but laugh as all their little personalities shone through as they made their way to the altar- Olivia Murphy, being the oldest, most definitely was taking her role the most seriously, holding her baby sister in one hand and carefully sprinkling flowers evenly in front of her. Your niece, Olivia, was second in line to live up to her role, although, being the little ham she was, threw in the occasional twirl in the middle of the aisle to get people to look at her, along with her little waves to the crowd. The rest of the girls, Brianna, Abby and Madison, well, you were just happy that they made it down the aisle, thankful that their older sisters were at least on the lookout enough to keep them from running through the rows of your guests or dumping the entire bucket of flowers on themselves (you had learned your lesson from your rehearsal dinner that Brianna needed about half as less flowers as the others).

Your face lit up watching the girls, your heart filling with joy with the “awhs” and laughter from the crowd at their theatrics as they met at the altar with an impressively semi-rehearsed curtsy, followed by promptly running out of the spotlight and over to Connie who was waiting for them.

Now that the flower girls had finished making their way down, the processional line began to shift forward once again, this time, leaving Javi and his dad to walk down together, Javi insisting that even though his mom would have been the one to walk him down if she was here, that wanted Chucho to be there in her place instead.

“Ready, Mijo?” Chucho grinned, giving Javi a little nudge. “Am I going to have to keep you from sprinting down the aisle, or do you think you can manage walking?”

As the pair began walking down to the melodic beat of the song, Javi couldn’t help but laugh at his dad’s comment, because as much as he wanted to tease him right back, he knew damn well he was so excited that he would have run to the altar if it meant he got to marry you even a minute quicker.

“Javier?” Chucho asked, looking up at his son with tears in his eyes as the pair moved down the parted pathway between the crowd of guests.

“Yeah, Pops?”

“Estoy orgulloso de ti, mijo. Tu mama y yo. (I am so proud of you, son. Me and your mother.) We are so happy that you have found your media naranja (other half). Nosotros te amamos. (We love you so much.)”

As Javi and Chucho reached the end of the aisle, Javi wrapped his arms around his dad, pulling him close as Chucho patted him on the back, pulling away to look at his son, tears now in both of their eyes, thinking about how far they had come to end up where they were in this very moment, thanking whatever greater power that had finally brought them and Lucia the peace they all desperately deserved.

Javier Pena knew he was worthy of the love and happiness that his parents had longed for. He had finally proved to himself and his parents he really was the good man that he had hoped to be.

“I love you, Pops. Thank you for everything.” Javi whispered to his dad, trying to fight back any more tears from falling down his cheeks.

“Te amo mucho, Javier. (I love you so much, Javier). Thank you for finally realizing that who you are is enough. Now, stop crying over your old man and save some tears for your wife.” Chucho laughed quietly, giving his son another pat on the back with a soft smile wrinkling his cheeks.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about that.” Javi chuckled, shaking his head at the tearful mess he already was, giving his father one last hug before Chucho took his seat next to Connie and the flower girls at the front of the crowd.

Steve was the next to make his way to the altar, Javi laughing at his friend’s goofy strut to greet him at the end of the aisle. Steve held out his hand to shake Javi’s before quickly pulling Javi in for another hug with pats to the back much harder than his fathers.

“Listen, man. I ain’t good at this sentimental shit, but uh- I’m really fuckin’ happy for you, Javi. I know I give you shit, but you’re one of the good ones. She’s a lucky girl. And I hope you know you’re sure as hell one lucky son of a bitch. Love you, man.”

“Love you too, Murph. Believe me, I know.” Javi grinned, giving Steve a slap on his shoulder laughing to himself as his friend sat down next to his wife and the girls, never imagining himself standing at the altar, happily waiting to get married while his former partner cheered him on, surrounded by his gaggle of giggly daughters.

Feeling worlds away from Javi, your heart began to beat faster and faster, realizing that you were now only one pair away from making your trek down the aisle as your mom and dad walked down next, arm in arm.

In classic mom fashion, your mother squeezed Javi so hard as she greeted him, that you were convinced that she was going to pop an eyeball out one of his sockets, thankful that your dad was there to reel her in enough to keep from suffocating him in her hug.

“Javi. We love you so much. Thank you for making our daughter so happy. We’re so grateful she found you.”

“Thank you. I love you both, too. Believe me, I’m just as grateful that she found me. Thanks for making me feel like a part of your family.” Javi replied to your mom, catching his breath through his smile after the death grip your mom had wrapped him in before looking over at your dad, extending his hand to meet his already outstretched one.

“Jav, you’re a good man. I’m a guy of few words, but we couldn’t be happier for you both. Take care of her, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

With a silent handshake and a nod, Javi and your dad had said all they’d needed to know that they couldn’t be more thankful for the love and support the other had brought you in the times that you had needed it most.

As your parents made their way to their seats, standing at the opposite end of the aisle with your brothers at your side, the realization really hit you- You were the last one that needed to meet Javi.

“You ready, Cubby?” Charlie asked, giving you a grin as he smiled down at you, interlocking your arm with his as David did the same on the other side.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Hey, uh- I just, I just wanted to say, I-I love you guys.”

“Gross.” David teased, scrunching his face in disgust, pretending to barf over his shoulder as you and Charlie laughed, shaking your head at your brother. “We love you too, dude.”

With one final giggle and deep breath, you took your first step into view where everyone could see you, watching the guests rise to their feet in anticipation of your arrival, awestruck stares and smiles filling the crowd as you began to walk.

Even though you had seen each other minutes ago, as you started to make your way down the aisle, smiling at Javi, the two of you couldn’t help but break into tears once again, laughing through your sobs that Javi broke before you did, trying to wipe his wet cheeks with the back of his hand while he watched you walk towards him.

And even though every pair of eyes were on you, the only eyes you needed to see were Javi’s- The sweet, soft brown eyes that you had fallen so deeply in love with from the moment you had locked eyes with them all that time ago. They were the eyes of the first person who had ever truly seen you for who you were, inside and out, and you couldn’t be more thankful that when you looked at him, you saw your forever. When you looked at Javier Pena, you knew you were home.

It almost felt as if time was standing still, that even in a crowd full of people, no one else existed besides the two of you. No one else mattered, and nothing else mattered- the only thing that mattered for you was Javi waiting for you at the end of the aisle, and you? You were going to finally be his wife.

“You two are so in love, it’s fucking sick.” David whispered in your ear, helping to ease your tears as you burst into more laughter, rolling your eyes at your brother.

“Oh shut up, asshole.”

As you, David and Charlie finally made your way to Javi, waiting for you in a mess of happy smiles and loving tears, you had to use everything in you to keep from jumping onto him like a koala and kiss him all over his stupidly handsome face, resorting to reaching out to grab his hand instead, interlocking it with yours and giving it the tightest squeeze you could.

“Hey, Mr. Peña. Long time, no see.” You whispered into Javi’s ear, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before took his other hand in yours, the two of you facing each other in front of your friends and family as David and Charlie took their place behind you, pulling out their notes that they had prepared, clearing their throats as they began to address the crowd.

“Alright everyone, I uh- I guess we’re gettin’ this show on the road.” Speaking out into the crowd, Charlie began to flip to the right page of his script that you were relieved to see he had written out, your guests beginning to silence and bringing their attention to you and Javi.

“Hi everyone, for those of you who don’t know us, we are the bride’s brothers, and we have the honor of our sister and our new brother-in-law being stupid enough to let us be in charge of marrying them today. Not to worry, 20 dollars and one course on the internet later, David and I are both legally ordained, so not to fear you two, this will all be legit, and hopefully not too embarrassing.” Charlie laughed, also eliciting giggles and eye rolls from you and Javi, as well as the crowd.

“Well, we are gathered here today, because these two idiots have fallen so head over heels for each other, it's almost sickening. We’ve had the privilege of knowing our sister for the entirety of our lives. When we found out as kids that our mom was having another baby, and that it was going to be a girl, my brothers and I were disappointed, to say the least. We didn’t want a sister to ruin the bond that we had, and honestly, for a long time while my mom was pregnant, we went through a long baby boycott, and were convinced if we protested long enough, and hard enough, she would eventually turn into a boy, and everything would be fine.” David grimaced, shrugging his shoulders at you as you nodded in agreement, having heard this story from your brothers and parents plenty of times before.

“And while at first, we weren’t really sure what to do with a sister, considering we didn’t even realize it was an option to pee sitting down until she came around,” Charlie snickered, making the crowd laugh again, aside from your mom, who was rolling her eyes so hard, they probably had made it to the back of her head, “Our sister ended up being one of the best things that could have ever happened to us.”

Breaking your eye contact with Javi, you paused to look over at your brother, a genuine smile on his face, raising his eyebrows and shrugging as if to say I’m just as surprised that I’m saying this out loud as you.

“Growing up with our sister has taught us a lot of things- Don’t challenge her to anything you don’t wanna lose at, because she’ll find a way to beat you, and thoroughly kick your ass while she does it, she’s got more brain cells that myself, Charlie, and our late brother Patrick did put together, she’s tougher than most guys I know, and she’s one of the biggest hearted people I’ve ever met.” Looking back at Javi, you could see his face beaming with joy, giving your hand a squeeze, agreeing with everything your brothers had to say, and how all of those traits had made him fall so madly in love with you.

“So, like brothers do, we never assumed that there would never be anyone good enough, let alone even cool enough for our badass sister. And also like brothers do, we let her go through her fair share of duds and gave her shit, but when this guy came around,” Charlie smiled, pointing at Javi, “we knew that he was something special.”

“Javi,” David joined in pointing, giving him a playful smirk, “Don’t think you were getting out of this so easy. When we first heard that our sister had made her way down to the middle of nowhere Texas and had started seeing you, our first reaction was instant disapproval, because if you lived in south Texas, you probably knew jackshit about hockey, and that was a no go for us.”

“But,” Charlie interjected, “After talking to our sister more on the phone, not only was she starting to turn into the happy, energetic self we hadn’t seen in so long, we also learned after talking to her that you not only had been willing to watch hockey with her, but had began to openly express your disdain for the Detroit Red Wings, which made us change our opinions on you very quickly.”

You and Javi looked at your brothers, rolling your eyes in laughter as they shrugged at you, the roar of cackles from the crowd making you grin, feeling the love from your brothers, friends and family swell in your chest, holding Javi’s hands even tighter, gazing up at him with an awestruck smile.

“No in all seriousness, Jav. We couldn’t be happier that you not only have become a part of our sister’s life, but our family’s life, too. For those of you who don’t know, we um- we, uh-,” David gulped, taking a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes, “our other brother, Patrick, um, passed away last year, and it uh, it was really hard on all of us, especially our sister. Javi, man, I don’t think you’ll ever understand how thankful we are that you love our sister so unconditionally. Better yet, that you love our family of idiots so unconditionally, because truth be told, we are not an easy bunch to love. While obviously, you can’t ever replace Patrick, I just, I hope you know that we’re so glad to have you as a brother, and that Patrick really would have loved you, man. He would be so happy that you’re the one our sister gets to spend the rest of her life with.”

For what felt like the 117th time today, you found yourself in absolute tears, feeling the wetness streaming down your cheeks as you looked down at the #2 patch sewn on the bottom corner of your veil in a beautiful mixture of sadness and joy before looking up to see not a dry eye in front of you, both your brothers and Javi misty eyed and sniffling. Breaking his grasp from yours, Javi stepped towards your brothers, wrapping his arms around both of them to pull them into a long, tight hug, Charlie and David reciprocating as their arms patted his back.

“Thank you guys.” Javi whispered, choking back his tears as he pulled away to look at your brothers, all of you wiping your wet faces with your hands to try and compose yourselves to carry on with the ceremony.

“Damn, okay, well, sorry about that, folks, was not expecting that.” Charlie and David laughed, trying to shake off their unusually sappy sentiment, looking out at the crowd to see not a dry eye in the house. “Well um, well that’s enough of us yapping at you guys, why don’t we turn it over to the people you’re actually here for, and then you can cry even more because these two idiots decided to write their own vows, so good luck.”

Staring up at Javi, you could feel your heart begin to race wildly, your hands nearly trembling as you reached out towards Javi to take the little notebook where you had written down your vows, feeling a little more at ease as you saw that Javi’s hands were just as shaky as yours, the two of you overflowing with anxious anticipation.

It had been no question to either of you that you had wanted to write your own vows to one another. While it seemed to be that everyone else you knew had seemed to avoid writing their own vows because they weren’t sure what to say, or that it was too hard to think of things, you and Javi seemed to find yourselves having the opposite problem, feeling like there was too much to fit in a few short minutes, and that your vows were going to end up being the length of a college lecture.

There had been a part of you that had worried you would be nervous to read what you had to say to Javi in front of all your friends and family, but as you stood there, smiling up at his beautiful, handsome face, you couldn’t be more excited to share all of the things you had written to tell your husband just how much you loved him.

But as the two of you stood face to face, your vows in each of your hands, your stomach dropped in shock, realizing that neither of you was making the first move to start talking. Because for all the planning and preparing that you had done for everything else, the both of you had completely forgotten to pick who was going to read their vows first.

“We never picked who was gonna go first.” You whispered to Javi, your voice filling with nerves every second you stood in front of your guests, neither one of you saying anything.

“Oh fuck, you’re right. What do you wanna do? Do you wanna go? Do you want me to go?” Javi asked, his face mirroring yours in surprise, now frantically looking back and forth between you, his vows, and all of your guests.

You weren’t sure if it was the teacher in you, or the fact that you were so flustered that you couldn’t think of anything else, but before you knew it, you were tucking your vows under your arm, holding one hand out in front of you flat and the other in a fist, signifying to Javi that your best solution to your current predicament was playing rock, paper, scissors.

“Best 2 out of 3?” You shrugged, grimacing at Javi as you tried not to burst into laughter, Javi shaking his head and snickering, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that. Do you wanna go after ‘rock’ or say ‘shoot’, then go?” Javi asked, loud enough for your guests to catch on to what was happening, giggles and laughter coming from the crowd.

“What kind of psychopath doesn’t say ‘shoot’ first? Javier Peña, are you telling me that we need to call off this wedding right now because you don’t say ‘shoot’ before playing rock, paper, scissors? Because I will.”

Everyone around you was now in full blown hysterics, including Javi, giving you the sassiest look he could muster through his laughter, holding his hands out to mirror yours.

“So ‘for better or for worse’ doesn’t apply to rock, paper, scissors, apparently?” He teased, smirking at you with a subtle wink as he bit down on his lip.

“Not if you’re gonna play like that it won’t.”

“Pendejo.”

“You love me.”

“I really fucking do.”

Giggling as you gestured at your outstretched fist, you began to countdown from your “rock, paper, scissors, adding an extra emphasis on ‘shoot’ as you held out rock and Javi held out scissors. With another laugh, the two of you started again, this time, you with paper and Javi with rock, smirking as you crossed your arms over your chest at Javi, the rest of your guests laughing right along with you.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner, Javier Peña. You’re stuck going second.”

“Go for it, you dork.”

As the laughter from the crowd settled, you opened your vows book, taking a deep breath as you stared up at Javi, who, despite your silliness, still had tears beginning to well in his puppy dog brown eyes before you could even say your first word. You took one last gulp of confidence, wondering how in the world you were supposed to make it through even a sentence through your speech without falling apart.

“I never used to believe in fate. People would always tell me that ‘some things are just meant to be!’ or ‘it was just fate it happened like that!’ and no matter how hard I tried to believe, fate just never made sense to me. Well, that was until about a year ago, when fate decided to bump right into me when I least expected it.” You could feel your voice already beginning to shake, huffing in a quick sniffle before continuing on.

“As fate may have it, I quite literally bumped into you when you were forced to come give a presentation to a group of rowdy 8 and 9 year olds. Thank god fate also was on my side that day- that I actually looked halfway presentable and wasn’t covered in spilled chocolate milk, glue, or the snot of whatever kid had sneezed a little too close to me that morning.” That one had the better part of the crowd letting out a laugh alongside Javi, easing your stress and tension about your speech while you carried on, reading the notes jotted in your booklet.

“When I first came to Laredo, I wasn’t really quite sure what I was looking for. After my brother died and decided I needed to be as far away from Chicago as possible, there wasn’t ever really a doubt in my mind that here was the only place I really wanted to be. I spent the better half of my middle school and high school vacations here, visiting my best friend who had moved away. To me, Laredo was always a place that brought me such peace and comfort. I’m not really sure why, but there was always something about being here for those few weeks every year that made it feel like home, even when home was halfway across the country. But what I didn’t realize, was that in my attempt to find a new home for myself, I began to learn that home wasn’t a physical location, or a place you could travel to. After meeting you, Javier Peña, I found out that home was wherever I was with you.”

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up from your vows to see sweet Javi, covering his mouth, as if he was trying to trap his tears to keep from completely breaking down at your words, his reaction only making you cry harder, trying your best to re-compose yourself before speaking again.

“I spent so long wondering if I would ever find someone who would ever make me feel the way that you do- to love me for all of my flaws, to make me feel important, and even laugh at all of my stupid jokes that probably don’t deserve to be laughed at, but you love me enough to do it anyways. Now that’s true love.” You smirked, raising your eyebrow at Javi, making the two of you snicker between your tears. “You make me feel like the only person in the world whenever I’m with you. The only person who knows me better than I know myself. You are truly one of the most thoughtful and caring people that I have ever met. And while I could list off a million adjectives to describe all of the reasons I fell in love with you- smart, brave, determined, handsome- just to name a few, out of all of those reasons, the one that made me fall for you the most was your big heart. And while I know you’ll never believe me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to get you to see the same amazing man I fall more and more in love with every single day.”

At this point, there was not a dry eye in the crowd, watching how emotional you and Javi were as you tried to choke your way through the rest of your vows.

“I will never know what I did to deserve you in my life, but promise that I will spend the rest of it letting you know how forever thankful I will always be that out of all the people in the world you could have chosen to bump into, that it was me. I am so excited that the rest of my life, all of the moments, big, small, and everything in between, will all be moments spent with you. That every moment will be spent with my best friend. I never would have thought that a little bit of fate would have become my forever, but I’ll always be so grateful that it is. I love you so much, Javier Peña. Thanks for being the reason I finally believe in fate.”

Wiping away the wetness streaming down your cheeks, you could barely even look at Javi, who was an absolute blubbering mess, laughing through your tears almost to keep you from completely melting into a puddle.

Reaching out to grab him, you took Javi’s hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly as you took your other hand up to wipe the tears streaming down his cheeks, the both of you smiling as you looked into each other's eyes.

“And that’s why I wanted to go first. Good luck.” You chuckled, making Javi shake his head as he laughed along with you, taking another deep breath before flipping open his own vows, wondering how in the world he was ever going to make it through speaking, considering how easily he had fallen apart just listening to you.

“Jesus Christ, well I don’t know how I’m really supposed to follow that.” Javi sighed, the crowd giggling at his remark as he opened up to his first page, staring at his words for a moment before looking back up at you, his deep, chocolate, puppy dog eyes melting you just as quickly as the first time that you locked eyes with him.

“I’ve uh- I’ve never really been great speeches. When I sat down to write this, I wasn’t really sure where to start. I had no idea how I was supposed to fit all of the things that I wanted to say into all of this.” Javi huffed with a little shrug, gesturing to his notebook.

“So I um- I figured if there’s anywhere I should start, it should probably be at the beginning. My mom was an elementary school teacher, so growing up, I spent a lot of time at Alma Pierce Elementary School. I swear, I knew that place like the back of my hand. But um, after my mom got sick and passed away, I really never thought I’d ever have a reason to back. Until one day last year, I was told to pack up my stuff to go give a presentation at a local elementary school, which turned out to be none other than Alma Pierce. My mom always used to say “La vida es graciosa, no lo crees?” (Life is funny, isn’t it?), and I never quite understood why. But as I walked back into the place where I had spent so much of my life just out of chance, I swear I could hear her laughing at me, saying “Te lo dije.” (I told you so).”

You could hear everyone who had had the privilege of knowing Lucia letting out a soft laugh, thinking of all of the times they must have heard her say that all too familiar phrase throughout their time knowing her.

“I had gotten to a point in my life that I had kind of just accepted that maybe this kind of life wasn’t in the cards for me. I wasn’t gonna get married or have a family, and as much as it hurt, I had learned to be okay with it. The last thing I would have thought would have happened to me after leaving the presentation I had to give that day was that I was already head over heels in love with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life, but la vida es graciosa, no le crees?”

Giving you a little smirk, Javi could help but let a smile slowly spread between his cheeks as he looked at you, gazing up at him in complete and utter adoration, your goofy grin mirroring his.

“Never in a million years would I have thought that I would have been standing here today, getting married to you. If you would have told me that I got to marry the most beautiful, amazing, kind, and stubbornly independent woman on the face of this earth, I would have laughed in your face. I honestly still feel like I need to pinch myself to prove that this is even real. But I guess that even if this is all a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up. Being loved by you has changed me in a way that I will never be able to thank you enough for. Being loved by you has made me a better man than I ever believed that I could be. A better man than I ever thought I deserved to be. A man who has learned to love and believe in love in ways I didn’t think I was capable of. I will never be able to thank you enough for letting me into your life and loving me for who I am, and for wanting to spend the rest of it with me.”

Now, it was your turn to morph into an inconsolable mess, reaching out to grab Javi’s hand again, silently reassuring him that you were equally as grateful for the fact that Javi had let you into his life, too.

“And no matter how tough, or challenging, or funny life gets, I know it can never really be that bad, because I’ll always have you by my side through it all. I think my mamá would be so proud to know I finally understand what she was trying to say all those years about life being so funny. Because it seems like life has a funny way of giving you everything you’ve ever wanted. Te amo, Osita. Gracias por ser mi todo. (I love you, Osita. Thank you for being my everything).”

Without even thinking, you threw your arms around Javi’s shoulders wrapping him in a long, tight hug, sobbing into his jacket in a fit of happy tears, Javi hugging you right back, squeezing around your waist, gently cradling the back of your head in the warmth of your embrace.

“Well shit… Alright, well I’m not sure if you guys are allowed to do that, but after those vows, I think we can let it slide.” David joked, trying to quickly wipe his eyes, nudging Charlie to do the same to try and pull themselves together to make sure they could finish out the rest of the ceremony.

“Fuck, sorry.” Javi whispered, reluctantly pulling away from you, everyone in the crowd following your brothers’ suite, smiling as they brushed away the wetness welling in their own eyes from listening to your vows.

“Well, I’d ask if anyone needs to object before we continue, but I think it’s pretty darn clear that these two idiots love each other more than life itself, so I’m just gonna skip that part.” Charlie joked, making you and Javi smirk in agreement. “Alright Miss Olivia, it’s your time to shine, do you have the rings?” He asked, your niece’s face lighting up in excitement as she nodded her head frantically, shooting up out of her seat to dash towards the two of you, carefully holding the ring box like a newborn baby bird in her hands.

Daintily, she passed the box off to her dad before scampering over to both you and Javi, wrapping her arms around your waists to pull you close in a hug, smiling up at each of you with her toothy, goofy grin.

“I love you Auntie Bear and Uncle Javi.” Olivia beamed, giggling in pure bliss and joy before skipping back to her seat among the guests, the both of your hearts bursting at the seams with the chores of “awhhhhs” coming from the crowd for your adorable niece.

“Someone’s trying to get an extra slice of cake tonight huh, Miss Olivia?” David teased, your guests erupting with laughter at her not so innocent shrug to her Uncle’s question, knowing damn well she was just as much of a ham as you. “I trusted the six year old to carry these, can I trust you two not to drop them, or do you need to cry some more first?”

“Oh shut up, David.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at your brother as you and Javi each took the rings to give one another, carefully holding the shiny gold bands in your hands, counting down the moments until you finally got to say “I do”.

“Alright, ladies first, so I guess that means you, Cubby. You ready?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for anything, you dingus, get this show on the road.”

“Alright, here goes nothin’. This is the part I actually had to practice, so God forbid I mess this one up huh? Do you,” David giggled, saying your real name instead of the nicknames you had lovingly bestowed upon you for as long as you could remember, “Take Javi to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Carefully slipping the gold band onto Javi’s finger, you could feel your heart bursting in anticipation, biting down on your lip to try and contain your excitement, slowly pulling your hand away to let your brothers finish the second half of the exchange.

“And do you, Javier Peña, take our sister,” Charlie and David snickered again, having to say your full name for a second time, “to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Gently grabbing your palm and gliding the glistening ring onto your finger, Javi rubbed his thumb over the pair of bands nestled together, forever making a home on your hand, his eyes welling at the sight of the sign that you would always be his.

Intertwining your fingers together and hands clasped in front of you, you and Javi were radiating with joy, anxiously staring back and forth between each other and your brothers for them to finally say those magic words you had been waiting to hear since the moment you had met all that time ago.

“Well ladies and gentleman… by the power vested in us, the internet and the state of Texas, it’s our honor to introduce to you the new Mr. and Mrs. Peña.” Charlie grinned at you, trying not to burst into laughter at the near panicked look on your faces, not having heard the next set of words you were more than dying to hear.

“Well go on, you lovebirds, kiss already!” David snickered, shrugging at the pair of you with a grin on his face.

Before he could barely finish his sentence, Javi’s hands were cupping your face, palms cradling your jaw as he brought his mouth to yours, fireworks exploding in your stomach at the electric intensity of his kiss, so soft and tender, yet so desperate and needy, like it was the first time his lips had ever met yours, and that he never, ever wanted to let them go.

Your hands shot up to grab his face too, a smile creeping across your mouth with your lips still pressed to his as Javi dipped you down, sliding his hand down the small of your back to hold you before pulling you back up, his lips still locked on yours like glue.

In that moment, it seemed like time stood still, that nothing else in the world existed besides the two of you- nothing else mattered besides the fact that you were here, kissing the man that you loved more than anything in the world.

The man that you finally got to call your husband.

Over the cheers, whistling, and hollering from your friends and family, the both of you were finally snapped back to reality as David gave you a little nudge and a look that screamed “gross, save it for the honeymoon.”

Reluctantly breaking from your kiss, you grabbed Javi’s hand in yours, holding your fists in the air and cheering in excitement right alongside your guests before heading back up the aisle, your cheeks hurting from how hard they were smiling. So lost in your excitement, you turned your head as you felt Javi stop, tugging you back to the middle of the aisle, smirking as he pulled you close to his chest, whispering in your ear.

“Not so fast, Mrs. Peña. C’mere.” Grabbing your face and wrapping his arm around your waist, Javi was kissing you again, swinging you down in another dip that had you erupting in giggles and your guests cheering even louder, Javi’s smooth moves soliciting a loud “OW OW” most definitely from Steve.

“God, I love you.” You smirked as Javi pulled you back up to stand before the two of you were nearly skipping down the rest of the aisle in bliss, racing to the back of the crowd where you had entered the ceremony, turning the corner behind the house where no one could see you, not even bothering to look over your shoulder to see who’d followed you before your lips were crashing into each others again.

This one was nowhere near as tame as the kisses you had just shared moments ago- this kiss was a tangled mess of tongues and teeth, Javi’s hands creeping dangerously close to the curve of your ass as you tugged at the lapels of his suit jacket, your mouths moving in a messy dance as you whispered muffled and muted words between your kisses.

“Fuck, my beautiful wife. God, I’m so fucking lucky. I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too, Javi, I’m so-”

“Jesus Christ, it’s been 30 seconds and y’all can’t keep your hands to yourselves? C’mon, now. Y’all gotta whole week and a half to do this without having to subject the rest of us to it, Mr. and Mrs. Peña.” Steve laughed, making the both of you gasp as he slapped Javi on the back, immediately making your cheeks flush pink in embarrassment and Javi groan in annoyance at his best man’s timely (or untimely) disruption.

“Steve, c’mon like you didn’t have your hands all over me after we got married.” Connie sighed, now smacking the back of her own husband’s head, making him wince in pain. “Congratulations, you two. We’re so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Connie.” You and Javi smiled, Javi still keeping his hand wrapped around your waist as the rest of your wedding party started making their way back up the aisle to greet you, too.

“Also having gotten married before, you’re gonna thank me later as I make you go find your brothers to sign your marriage license somewhere that has a little peace and quiet before you get none the rest of the night. Why don’t you guys head inside and I’ll cover for you for a little, okay?”

“You’re the best, Connie, thanks.” Javi grinned, pulling you away towards the house, quietly sneaking in through the front door to wait for your brothers, Javi looking both ways around the seemingly empty house before pulling you close again.

“Javi, Charlie and David are gonna be in here any minute, and they’re gonna give us just as much shit as Steve, if not more.” You giggled, gazing up into Javi’s eyes, still awestruck and giddy.

“I know. Just one more kiss, mi esposa (my wife).” Javi smirked, tilting his head down to press his lips to yours, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheek as the rest of his fingers cradled your jaw, tilting your eyes up towards him. “Fuck, you’re finally my wife. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.”

“Good thing we have the rest of our lives to get used to it, huh?”

People weren’t kidding when they said that your wedding would be a blur- From the moment the ceremony ended, it felt like everything was moving in fast and slow motion at the same time, being pulled in every direction to talk with family members, take pictures, and make sure that things were running smoothly. As much as you and Javi were both trying to soak in every moment of your special day together, it was safe to say the two of you were feeling a little overwhelmed by the time you had gotten to dinner, and couldn’t have been more thankful to have a moment to finally sit down.

More importantly, you were so glad that you had gotten to the point where you had a drink, some delicious food in your stomach, and the best part of the night ahead of you- dancing.

The sun was beginning to set on the horizon of the Peña ranch as dinner was coming to a close, the clanging of forks and knives against dinner plates slowly shifting to chatter and conversation that was filling the space of the white tent that had been propped up in the backyard for your reception.

You weren’t really sure what to expect when you had decided on a backyard wedding, but with the absolutely stunning work your mom, Connie, sister in law, and Javi’s aunt’s had put together for you, they had made a white tent feel like something out of a fairytale. String lights and greenery were strung across above you, long tables decorated in candles and beautiful garlands of eucalypts, sprinkled white and pink roses from Lucia’s garden, along with cute, colorful vintage cups that the women had collected or thrifted for your guests to use. Everything about your setup felt magical, and with the sun sinking and fading into dusk, the glow and twinkles of the lights illuminating your space only made it feel that much more incredible.

As the two of you sat at your head table, bellies full and hearts happy, feeling a little tipsy from the extra strong margaritas Javi’s cousin seemed to be making, you were a little worried as what looked like a more than just tipsy Steve approached you, slapping a stack of index cards in front of you.

“Listen… I’m like the perfect level of drunk to give this best man speech. Any less drunk and I’ll be too fuckin’ nervous to do it, and any more drunk I’m not gonna be able to remember what I’m supposed to say. Y’all good to keep this movin’ so you can do your first dance and then we can get this party started?”

“Jesus Christ, Murph…” Javi sighed, laughing at his friend, now sassily crossing his arms over his chest at Javi. “This speech better be good.”

“It’s good, and Connie approved, so you know I won’t say any dumb shit. Well, not if we don’t start soon and I keep drinking more.” Steve paused, letting out a low burp, rubbing his stomach and grimacing at the two of you, snorting at him.

“Take it away, Shakespeare.” You smiled, gesturing your arm out to the dance floor in front of the guests sitting at their tables, chatting away. You couldn’t help but laugh as Steve confidently made his way to the front of the crowd, Connie silently mouthing “I’m so sorry” from across the room, pointing at her husband, now ready to take the stage.

“Hey y’all,” Steve started, bellowing his voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention, making them pause their chit chat and focus their attention on him. “I’m Steve Murphy. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Javi’s best man. Normally it’s customary for a guy like me to come up and say a few words about the bride and groom, so lucky for y’all, I’m your guy tonight. You’re welcome, Jav.”

The crowd laughed as Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at Steve and shaking in his head in fear of what was to come, sliding your hand over to rest on his thigh, giving your now husband a little squeeze of reassurance to have some faith in his friend.

“I have had the pleasure of knowing Javi for a long time now. It’s been, what, 17 years now, Jav?” Steve asked, turning back to look for confirmation.

“It’s been too long.” Javi replied, shaking his head, his witty response only making your friends and family laugh more.

“Whatever, you grumpy old bastard. Anyways, I first met Javi when I found out that I would be his partner down in Colombia working for the DEA. Not gonna lie, when I first met him, while I’ve never admitted this until now, I was pretty intimidated by the guy. He was cool, smart, respected, even though his jeans were way too fuckin’ tight.” Steve teased, winking at Javi, making you snicker from the few pictures you had seen from back in the day when Javi was in Colombia, knowing exactly what Steve meant.

“I’ll spare you all the details of our time down there, but through all of our trials and tribulations, despite our differences and disagreements, the one thing I always admired about Javi is that he really cared about what he did. No matter what, he always cared about trying to do the right thing for the people he cared most about. Now, believe me, if you would have asked me all those years ago if I would have ever pictured Javi here today, gettin’ married, buildin’ a house and talkin’ about startin’ a family? Well shit, I prolly woulda told you that you were bat shit crazy. But, if there’s anyone in the world who deserves every ounce of all that domestic, lovely dovey bliss, it’s this man right here.” Steve smiled softly, pointing back to Javi who couldn’t help but let his heart fill with warmth at the sentiment from his friend, your hand rubbing up and down Javi’s leg, his grasping over yours to hold it tight.

“Javi, I know you’ll never believe me when I tell you this, but I’m real proud of ya, man. And I hope you know how goddamn lucky you are that this beautiful woman has agreed to spend the rest of her life with your grumpy ass. Speaking of which…” Steve smirked, turing back to look at you with a goofy grin, making you raise an eyebrow at whatever stupid comment was bound to come out of his mouth.

“Mrs. Peña. I never thought I’d live to see the day Javi was so in love. When he called me a few weeks after the two of you first met, and was all jazzed and excited to tell me about this beautiful girl he had started datin’ and how happy he was, I just about damn near fell down. He never said it on that phone call, but I knew that this sorry shit was absolutely head over heels in love with you.”

That comment had you giggling at Javi’s blushing face, his cheeks turning pink at Steve’s story, even though he knew damn well it was the truth.

“I couldn’t think of anyone who would be more perfect for Javi if I tried. When I first met you and saw how sickeningly cute y’all were together, God’s honest truth, my first question I asked Javi was when he was plannin’ on buyin’ a ring. Glad to see that sometimes he’ll take my advice. Sweetheart, I can’t thank you enough for being so good to my best friend right there. I hope he knows how lucky he is to have someone like you.”

Grabbing your hand, Javi interlocked his fingers with your underneath the table, softly smiling at you and gently nodding his head in agreement.

“I also need to thank you that he’s finally got someone else to worry about him instead of me. One less thing off my back. No offense, Jav. Alright, well, y’all have probably heard enough of me yappin’, and y’all are anything like me, you’re ready for more drinkin’ and dancin’. To Mr. and Mrs. Peña-” Steve paused, grabbing the nearest drink he could find and raising it up in the air, prompting the rest of your guests to do the same. “Wishin’ you two lovebirds a lifetime of happiness. I love you guys. Cheers!”

Over the applause and cheerful shouting, Steve rushed his way back over to the two of you, slotting himself in between your seats so his head poked out between yours, wrapping his arms around both your shoulders and pulling you in for a hug.

“Nice work, Murph.” Javi smiled, patting Steve on the back, laughing to himself at how genuinely thoughtful Steve’s speech had turned out to be.

“Thanks, Steve. Your speech was really great. How much did Connie have to edit out?” You snickered, looking back between him and Javi.

“... Let’s just say I left out the part about y’all horny bastards needin’ to be better about lockin’ your doors when other people are around.” Steve chuckled, shaking both of you in his grap, You and Javi’s eyes sheepishly darting to the ground in embarrassment.

“Fuck off, Murph.”

“Love you too, Jav.”

With one last pat on the back for each of you, before you could say anything else, Steve was already halfway across the tent back to the bar to congratulate himself for getting through his speech without any major slip ups or major scoldings from Connie after he returned back to his table.

“Thank God for Connie.” You grimaced, laughing at Javi whose face was buried in his palm, shaking his head at his friend, wondering why he would expect any less from him. “...He’s not wrong, though.”

“I’m triple checking that I lock all the doors later so I don’t give him any more reasons to be right…” Javi sighed, giving you a little nudge while the hand that had been holding yours suddenly let go, resting on your thigh over your dress, giving it a long squeeze, making your heart race in anticipation, his eyes locking with yours, telling you everything you needed to know.

Some way, some how, Javi was going to find a way to fuck you before the night was done.

“Javi…” You whispered, heat creeping through your cheeks, trying your best to keep from blushing as you locked eyes with him, his devilish grin and lust pooling in the dark brown of his eyes entrancing you in a way that had butterflies swirling in your core and ache rapidly beginning to grow between your legs.

“Si, Mi esposa?” (Yes, my wife?), Javi smirked back, running his hand further up your thigh and closer to your core as his other hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing back and forth across your skin, toying just enough to tug at the corner of your lip.

While you had gotten a little bit of alone time with Javi today, the way that the both of you had been absolutely insatiable for each other after seeing each other in your wedding attire, let alone the fact that you were now actually married? You and Javi were both dying to try and find a second to yourselves without interruption, especially from Steve.

So caught up in awe of each other, you and Javi hadn’t even noticed your DJ, standing next to your table, quietly clearing his throat to try and get your attention.

“Hey, uh- Mr. and Mrs. Peña?” He interjected, loud enough to finally snap you and Javi out of the horny stare down you had entered, “Are um- are you two ready for the first dance?”

“Oh, um- yeah, y-yeah, sorry about that.” Javi grumbled, the two of you quickly trying to snap out of the thick heat of sexual tension that had been growing between you, both readjusting yourselves in your seats as you looked up sheepishly at the DJ, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you two were ready to do your first dance? If you um, if you need some more time I can-”

“No, we’re okay, thanks.” You grimaced, trying to keep from giggling and blushing as you looked over at Javi and then back at your DJ. “You ready to dance, Mr. Peña?”

“Never been more ready, Mrs. Peña.” Javi replied, grabbing your hand as the two of you stood up, out of your seats walking to the edge of the dance floor while your DJ headed back to his booth.

“Hello everyone! We’re going to get ready to start our first dance with the newlyweds, so if you could please direct your attention to the dance floor, we’re about to get started!”

Before you could even take a step out onto the floor, the cheering and clinking of knives against glasses was erupting amongst the crowd, Javi happily taking the opportunity to grab you by the waist and pull you in for a long, deep kiss, making you giggle against his lips still pressed to yours as he dipped you down, before pulling you back against his chest.

“Show off.” You snickered, raising an eyebrow at him as he finally pulled away from your kiss, staring down at you with a goofy grin.

“Better get used to it, Mrs. Peña. I’ve got the whole rest of our lives to keep showing you off.” Javi smirked, shooting you a wink before tugging you out into the center of the dance floor, patiently waiting for your song to start as you draped one arm around his neck, Javi snaked his hand around your waist, and the pair of your other hands joined clasped at your side.

It was then that the melodic violin entrance to “At Last” by Etta James began to play, Javi smiling down softly at your agreed upon choice for your first dance song after lots of debate and discussion the past few months.

At last

My love has come along

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song

As the music began to play, you and Javi began to sway back and forth to the syrupy symphony of the song, your heart bursting and stomach filling with the same butterflies it had the first time you had met Javi all those months ago.

“I’m glad we picked this one.” Javi smiled, the two of you circling your way around the dance floor, eyes locked on each other.

“Me too. It always makes me think of making breakfast with you on the weekend and all the little moments I love with you.” You grinned back, letting go of Javi’s hand to drape both arms over his shoulder and around his neck.

“It makes me think of spilling that entire bowl of pancake batter all over Bear and then having to chase him around the house to get him in the tub.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes as he laughed to himself, tightening his grip around your waist to pull you closer.

I found a dream that I could speak to

A dream that I can call my own

I found a thrill to press my cheek to

A thrill that I have never known

“Me too. God, who would have thought that a year ago we’d be having our first dance at our wedding talking about spilling pancake batter all over our dog.” You giggled, leaning to rest your head against Javi’s chest.

“I did.”

Looking up at Javi, you could feel your cheeks warming, staring at his big brown eyes welling with tears, trying your best to now hold back the wetness pooling under your lashes.

“Osita, I swear, from the moment I saw you smile at me, I knew that you were the only woman in the world I ever wanted. I knew you were the one I wanted my forever with. I’ll never get over the fact that I’m the luckiest man alive. I love you so fucking much.” Javi choked back, letting one of his hands slide up your face, gently cupping your cheek as he tilted his head in for a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away for another one on your forehead.

You smiled, you smiled

Oh and then the spell was cast

And here we are in Heaven

As the song began to slow, the sweet melody winding down to its close, Javi lifted up his arm to let you twirl beneath him before spinning you back into his chest and wrapping his arm around your waist to catch you as he dipped you down again, your mouths meeting in a long, tender kiss, electricity sparking between your lips and butterflies swirling in your stomach.

For you are mine

At last

“I love you too, Javier Peña.”

Over the applause of your guests, you could hear an obnoxiously loud “OW OW” from the crowd, coming from a now even more intoxicated Steve, making you and Javi laugh at his reaction, swiftly followed by Connie’s sharp jab to his ribs to get him to settle down.

“Alright ladies and gents,” The DJ spoke over the rumble of voices at the dinner tables, “Let’s have one more big round of applause for our newlyweds!”

As the crowd began to clap again, and Steve, threatened by another blow to his side, cheering at an appropriate volume, the DJ spoke again with the announcement you had been patiently waiting for since the ceremony finished.

“Alright everyone, with our first dance done, it’s time for the best part of the night, the dance floor is officially open! Let’s party!”

As the blaring intro to “Jump Around” began to blast to your speakers, your friends and family rushed to the dance floor, you let out a squeal of surprise as Javi snatched you up around your middle, lifting you up to spin you around in a fit of giggles.

“Vamos a bilar, mi esposa.” (Let’s dance, wife)

The rest of the night was the best kind of celebration that you could have asked for- the joy of being surrounded by your friends and family, dancing the night away to your favorite songs, and drinking one too many margaritas with your husband was everything you could have asked for and more on your wedding night.

It was no shock to you that your family had no problem making absolute fools of themselves out on the dance floor, happily (and drunkenly) flailing along to every single song, although your brothers’ and Steve’s enthusiastic sing-along to “Baby Got Back” was impressive, to say the least.

And while you and Javi had expected your family to act a fool, what neither of you had expected was how excited Chucho was to bust out dance moves of his own, taking everyone by surprise as he joined all your co-workers and Javi’s co-workers (who had quickly become best friends on the dance floor), to shake his way through “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, leaving you in hysterics, and Javi in stunned embarrassment at his dad’s antics.

As the evening began to creep later and later into the hours of the night, a very sleepy Olivia approached you and Javi on the dance floor, gently tugging at your dress and his pants for attention with puppy dog eyes plastered on her face that almost gave Javi’s a run for his money.

“Auntie Bear and Uncle Javi, can I pick a song? Pleaseeeeeee?” Olivia begged, pouting her bottom lip at the two of you, absolutely melting your hearts in an instant.

“Of course, mi amor.” Javi smiled, caving immediately as he crouched down to her level, her face lighting up in delight at her uncle’s response, coming close to whisper in his ear.

If you couldn’t have already been more in love with your husband, watching him listen intently to what your niece had to say, nodding in agreement before scoping her up to rest on his hip, you were practically in a puddle now.

“Me and Miss Olivia are gonna go make a song request.”

“But Auntie Bear, you have to let me dance with Uncle Javi first, okay?” Olivia quickly added, very adamantly.

“Of course, lil Miss. Have fun, you two.” You smirked as Javi and Olivia made their way over to the DJ, watching Olivia’s face light up instantly as the DJ agreed to her request, Javi carrying Olivia out to the middle of the dance floor and setting her down on the ground as the end of the song slowly began to fade into your niece’s song choice.

With her love for the movie, you shouldn’t have been surprised at all that her pick was “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” from the Lion King Soundtrack, but even though you weren’t shocked at her choice, there was nothing that going to be able to prepare you for the gut wrenching cuteness that was your now husband, dancing with your niece.

It had already gotten to the point in the night that Javi’s suit jacket and tie were long gone, 3 buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and the once neat curls of his dark hair now messily sweeping his forehead from your night of dancing, and if the sight of just how goddamn handsome Javi looked, on top of the fact he was now officially your husband, paired with the sight of him slow dancing to the Lion King with Olivia?

Your ovaries were just about shot to hell.

As the song played and Javi and Oliva spun around the dance floor in a fit of smiles and giggles, you couldn’t help but wish with every bone in your body that it was your daughter that Javi was dancing with, nearly falling to your knees the thought of making him a dad, on top of being your husband. And if that wasn’t enough, the two of you were finally married, and that meant half of your bargain to start trying for kids was complete- and with the other half being your house finally finishing with construction which was almost close to being done as well, you were so close to start trying for a baby of your own, you could almost taste it.

And that? That drove you crazy enough to feel like you were going to combust.

So stuck in your daydream, you didn’t even notice Olivia running up to you, now tugging at your dress again, letting out a little sleepy yawn as she tried to get your attention.

“Okay Auntie Bear, you can dance with Uncle Javi now. Thanks for letting me pick a song.” Olivia smiled as you sunk down to meet her, wrapping her in a hug.

“Of course, Olivia. Thank you for being the best flower girl today. I love you, cutie patootie. Alright, I’m gonna go dance with Uncle Javi now, okay?”

“I love you too, Auntie Bear. I think Uncle Javi misses you, he wouldn’t stop looking at you the whole time we were dancing. I think he wants to kiss you again, but that’s gross. Yuck.” Oliva grimaced, making you giggle as she stuck out her tongue before watching her scamper away back to her sisters and the Murphy girls to dance some more.

As you turned back, bracing yourself to stand back up, you were greeted with Javi’s large palm held out in front of you, pulling you up to greet his handsome grin while you looked up at him.

“I’ve been told I have permission to come dance with you now.”

“It did take some persuading, I told her I’d save an extra piece of cake for her if she let me go dance with you.” Javi chuckled, pulling you back out onto the dance floor, slowly swaying back and forth to the beat.

“Watching you two out there is dangerous.” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at Javi as he cocked his head in confusion.

“What do you mean, hermosa?”

“I mean,” You paused, standing up a little bit taller, throwing one arm over Javi’s shoulder, running your hand through the hairs at the nape of his neck to whisper in his ear, “Watching the two of you made me think about how much I wanna make you a dad. And now that we’re married and the house is almost done, we actually get to start trying soon.”

It took everything in Javi not to let out an audible moan, letting out a gulp and scrunching his eyes shut for a moment to try and maintain his composure at what you had just said to him, his grip around your waist immediately tightening and eyes darkening as he opened them, staring down at you, absolutely awestruck.

“Fuck me.” He muttered to himself, almost shaking his head in disbelief that after all of the time you had spent talking about wanting kids and nights you’ve had wishing there hadn’t been any birth control to keep you from having them were now an almost tangible reality, “Is that what you want, mi esposa? My wife wants me to give her a baby?”

Javi’s voice rasped in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, your stomach flipping in arousal at the hot breath of his words against your skin, knowing what had started as a sweet and simple moment of Javi dancing with Olivia had quickly shifted into a desperate want, no, need, for him to give you what you were asking for.

As the music slowly faded into the next song, bodies shuffling and dancing to the more upbeat tune that had followed Olivia’s choice, the both of your figures stood frozen on the dance floor in a silent exchange of racing hearts and yearning glances before Javi took your hand in his.

“Follow me.”

In an instant, Javi was tugging you across the dance floor, the two of you dodging and weaving your way through your guests with polite smiles and happy waves, doing everything you could to try and sneak away as discreetly as possible in hopes that everyone would be too preoccupied (or too drunk) to realize that you were gone.

But at this point, you really didn’t care whether anyone noticed if you were gone or not. Truth be told, the only thing you cared about was finally getting to fuck your husband.

Finally making it through the worst of the maze of people, you and Javi had made your way to the back porch, quietly peeking your heads through the door, checking to make sure the coast was clear before hastily slipping inside, gently shutting the door behind you before sneaking down the hall to Javi’s room, thanking whatever higher power had let the two of you get to his bedroom in peace.

From the moment Javi had shut the door behind him, you were all over each other in an instant, hands roaming across each other’s bodies as you stumbled until the back of your legs hit the mattress, flopping down onto the bed, Javi’s body caging yours in his frame. Your lips crashed together in a hungry clash, tongues, teeth and moans melting together between your mouths as Javi hiked up the skirt of your dress, running his hands along your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh in his firm grasp before his fingers crept towards your aching core, ghosting over the white, lacy fabric covering your cunt, already soaking with arousal.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, hermosa. My wife’s pretty little pussy all wet for me, huh?” Javi rasped, the pads of his fingers pressing more pressure over your covered clit, making you whimper in delight.

“It’s all yours, Javi. Yours forever, baby.” You moaned, your breath hitching in the back of your throat as Javi’s fingers dipped under the waistband of your underwear, collecting the slick pooling around your folds before plunging his two fingers inside your heat and thumbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, pure bliss running through your veins at his touch.

Your response had Javi practically growling, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he looked down to see the golden and diamond bands glistening on your finger, awestruck at the beautifully blissed out mess you were already becoming as his fingers curled, prodding at the spongy spot inside you that he knew drove you wild.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Osita. My beautiful wife. Fuck- I can’t believe your mine. I love you so fucking much.” Javi groaned, his words muffled between the hot, wet kisses he kept planting on your lips, feeling your cunt beginning to clench around his digits.

“I l-love- fuck- I love you too, Javi.” You whimpered, the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine beginning to build as Javi’s fingers pulsed in and out of your heat and thumb circled your throbbing clit, knowing with how worked up you were and how good he felt, it wouldn’t take much more before you were coming undone around his hand.

“I know you’re close, baby. Let go, hermosa. Cum for me so I can fuck my wife and show her how much I love her.”

“F-Fuckfuckfuck Javi. Don’t stop, baby, don’t s-sto-ahhhhhhhhh.”

With his thumb circling faster and harder around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and fingers plunging in and out of your weeping hole, it wasn’t long before you could feel that all too familiar tingle spreading throughout your body, your orgasm flooding through every inch of you as you came around his fingers, soaking his hand.

“That’s it, Osita. That’s my good girl. My good wife.” Javi groaned, making you whimper as he withdrew his fingers from your dripping heat, admiring the slick and shiny mess you had made around his fingers, entranced by the way your arousal had coated his wedding band as he brought his hand to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean before beginning to work at his belt. “You taste so fucking sweet, baby.”

You sat back up, looking over your heaving chest to see Javi shuffling his pants and boxers down his thighs, leaving them to pool around his ankles, revealing his cock, already so painfully hard and weeping with precum from his tip. Reaching down to run his fingers through your folds again, he collected your slick on his hand before rubbing it up and down his length, stroking himself to line up with your entrance.

“F-fuck, let me feel you baby, p-please.” You whined, reaching up to grab fistfuls of Javi’s shirt, tugging him down to kiss you and lay his body on top of yours.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi moaned, slowly filling you up with his cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out against your cervix, letting you adjust to the fullness as he relished in the wet and warmth of your pussy gripping around him like a vice.

“M-move, Javi, please, baby.” The sweet sting and stretch of Javi’s length inside you already wanting to make your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Javi began to languidly thrust himself in and out of your heat, dragging his cock almost painfully slowly against your velvety walls, cursing under his breath at the feeling of his balls beginning to tighten in his stomach, knowing there was no way he was going to be able to last as long as he would have wanted to in the moment.

“Javiiiii” You whined, your arms wrapping around back, nails pressing into his shoulders as his cock hit the spot inside you that lit you ablaze. His hand snaked between your bodies, reaching down to rub your clit, still slow, taking his time with each graze of his fingertips as his pace held deep and steady. Every thrust in and out of his hips had you wrecked as he filled you so fully and intensely, moaning his name over and over while he grasped the meat of your thighs, pressing your knees against your chest to stretch you open even further.

“God you’re so beautiful. My beautiful fucking wife. Gonna be such a beautiful mom for our kids.” Javi grunted, this thrusts becoming faster and sloppier as he let the reality of his marriage and actual attempts to start trying for a family burn a hole in the forefront of his mind, igniting something even feral within him, knowing he was one step closer to finally giving you and him what you both wanted more than anything.

For Javi to get you pregnant.

The last sentence made your breath hitch in the back of your throat, whimpering at the notion that because you were finally married, there wasn’t much stopping you from tossing out your birth control tomorrow and trying to get pregnant by the end of the month.

“J-Javi-” You whined, trying to form any sort of coherent thought as your brain short circuited from the pure bliss and heart racing thoughts running through your brain.

“What, Osita?”

“I-I want you- oh shit- to fuck a baby into me, Javi. I wanna throw out the rest of my birth control- I don’t care if the house- Jesus- isn’t finished. I wanna stop taking it tomorrow. I w-want you to- fuck- fill me up and get me pregnant.”

You could practically feel the weight of Javi’s jaw dropping to the floor, eyes bulging out of his skull, and heart beating out of his chest, so shocked, he stopped himself mid thrust, just to make sure he had heard you correctly.

“Osita- baby, are you- holy fuck- baby, are you serious?”

You nodded your head frantically, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him in for an electric kiss before leaning back to whisper in his ear, your voice sultry and low.

“I need my husband to fuck a baby into me. Please. Fuck a baby into me, Javi.”

If Javi didn’t have his arms already braced on the bed, there’s no way in hell he wouldn’t have fallen over in pure delight at your request, his stomach now churning with the wildest mix of excitement, lust and pride, spreading up through his chest and across his face, the brown of his eyes darkening and awestruck smile widening.

“You want me to fuck a baby into you, Hermosa?” Javi asked, almost rhetorically, a devilish grin spreading between his cheeks as he began to pound into you again, not even giving you a chance to respond, knowing damn well what your answer was.

If his thrusts weren’t already frantically rushed and sloppy, they most definitely were now, Javi practically on the brink of his own high just from the thought of getting to fuck you, knowing there was a real, true chance of getting you pregnant, trying to fight with everything in him to keep from busting right then, needing to make sure that you came again before he did.

The lewd noises of your moans, wetness of Javi’s cock sliding in and out of you, and his hips snapping against yours coated the walls of the room, the both of you having no regard for anyone who may have been close enough to hear you, so caught up in the moment, that at this point, you couldn’t have cared less if anyone caught the both of you.

“Answer me, baby. Mierda- You want me to fuck a baby into you, huh? Want me to fucking fill you up and get you pregnant? Show everyone you’re mine with our baby growing inside you?” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, pounding into your g-spot with blinding force, frantically circling your clit as he felt your cunt begin to clench tighter and tighter around his cock, knowing you just needed a little bit more before he had you coming undone.

“Y-yes- fuckfuckfuck- I need you to, Javi, p-please baby, please, please, pleaaahhhhhhh-”

Just like that, you could feel yourself gushing around Javi’s cock as you came, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, crashing through every inch of your body, euphoria flooding through your veins, screaming his name while he fucked you through your high, desperately chasing his own.

“I’ll give it to you baby, I- fuck me- I’ll give you everything you want. I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I’ll give you a family, I’ll give you my heart, my soul, my everything, my- oh fuck!”

Javi’s hips stuttered, forcing a low groan to rumble in his throat as he came, the hot ropes of his spend coating your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop inside you, still pulsing and thrusting inside you, ensuring that nothing went to waste.

Slumping his body on top of yours, your chests rose and fell in sync, trying your best to catch your breaths as you came down from your highs, your mouths meeting in a sloppy kiss to try and ground you back to reality.

“Holy fuck…” You whispered through your labored pants, laughing to yourself from the pure bliss of what had just happened, staring up at Javi with a radiant grin, brushing the sweat-dampened curls from his forehead.

Javi hissed as he carefully pulled out, leaning back enough to see the smile on your face, gently cupping your cheek as he looked down at you with a goofy grin of his own.

“Osita… Were you being- baby, were you serious about what you said?”

“Jav, I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious about anything in my entire life. Is-is that okay with you?” You asked, biting down on your lip.

“Is that okay with me?” He asked, almost mockingly, chucking to himself as he shook his head in disbelief, “We can really throw it away tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

“And you won’t bring it with you on the honeymoon?”

“Nope.” You replied, popping the “p” at the end of the word.

“And there’s- holy fuck- there’s a chance you could actually get pregnant soon?” Javi asked, his face glowing brighter and brighter with each question he asked.

“Mmmhhmmm. Well, I mean, it might not happen right away but- Ahhhh Javi!” You giggled as your husband aggressively peppered ticklish kisses across your entire face, making you squeal and squirm in delight.

“Fuck, I love you so much. Thank you.” Javi smiled, tears welling in his eyes as he looked down at you.

“Jav, baby, don’t cry! Why are you crying, you dork?”

“You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. You married me, we’re gonna have a family, it’s just- fuck, I promise, that I wanna spend the rest of my life until the day I die showing you how thankful I am that you chose me. That you gave me all the things I stopped thinking I deserved. I love you so much, it fucking hurts, Osita. Thank you for choosing me.”

Sitting up, you threw your arms around Javi, pulling him close to you in the tightest hug you could muster, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the weight of his body melt into yours, your bodies intertangled as one.

“Javi, you’re the only one it ever could be. Te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden expresar. (I love you more than words can say).”

“Hey! Lovebirds! Are y’all in here?”

Over the music and chatter of the party outside, you and Javi had been completely oblivious to the all too familiar southern twang of Steve’s voice behind the bedroom door, gently knocking from the outside after being sent on a mission to find where in the world the two of you had been for nearly a half hour.

“Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Peña?” Steve rapped again, getting nothing in response but silence. Steve shrugged, drunk enough to have no fear to pound on the door repeatedly until the two of you showed up, now reaching down at the doorknob and giving it a jiggle.

Steve was shocked to find that he could turn the handle, writing off the fact that they two of you would be in a room with an unlocked door after the 10 pounds of shit he had given Javi, and with his inhibitions severely lowered, he had no problem cranking the knob and pushing the bedroom door wide open.

“Hello? Earth to Javi and Mrs. Peña, are y’all in here or not because I- Oh Jesus Christ!” Steve shrieked, opening up the door to see you and Javi, your dress still hoisted up to your waist, and Javi’s bare ass completely on display, making the both of you scream just as loud in surprise at your unwanted visitor.

“Murphy! Get the fuck out!” Javi snarled, quickly scrambling to try and pull your dress back down and his pants back up.

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ!” Steve yelled, immediately bringing his hand to his face to cover up his eyes, trying to drunkenly stumble as quickly as he could back out of the room, but, because of his intoxicated state and self-imposed lack of vision, Steve found himself colliding head first with the wall, knocking himself to the ground before crawling across the floor like a frazzled toddler, kicking the door closed behind him.

For as devastatingly embarrassed as you were by the whole debacle, you couldn’t help but cackle at the impeccable comedic timing of the whole thing, snickering to yourself as Javi finished buckling back up his pants and helping you up to stand before storming to the door, opening it to find Steve still sprawled on the floor in an a hysteric fit.

“Are you fucking serious, Murph?” Javi growled, completely unamused.

“God, I shoulda kept my bit that Connie cut in my speech. Y’all do know that doors have locks, right? Might be helpful if y’all learned how to use ‘em. Just food for thought.” Steve giggled, watching both of your faces grow beet red in embarrassment and at a loss for words.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Javi asked, pinching the arch of his nose between his fingers, shaking his head in frustration, looking down the hallway to make sure that Steve was the only presence you needed to worry about.

“I’m tryin’ to save your asses before someone else worse than me walks in on the two of you gettin’ it on. Y’all do realize you’ve been gone for almost 45 minutes right? Being the- oh shit-” Steve paused, letting out a giant burp,” ‘cuse me, being the good Best Man I am, I decided to try and find you two idiots before people started askin’ too many questions. So, you’re welcome.” Steve grunted, pushing himself up to stand, cocking his head at the both of, hands on his hips, trying to prove his point. “Also, do you two anything else besides fuc-”

“Steve! Jesus Christ, will you shut the fuck up!” Javi groaned, staring down at the floor, taking a deep breath to compose himself before he decided to kick Steve right back down to the ground again.

“...It’s really been 45 minutes?” You grimaced, looking back between Steve and Javi, shrugging at your husband that any longer, your mom would have been on a search party for you, and it would have been your whole family at Javi’s bedroom door instead of just Steve.

“Yeah, and I’m the first to come lookin’ after ya, so again, you’re welcome. Jesus, Javi, you can really last for 45 fuckin minutes? How the-”

“Murphy!”

“Sorry…”

“Fuck me….”

“Think you and your wife already took care of that one…” Steve muttered under his breath, trying not to laugh.

“I swear to God, Steve…”

“Okay, I’m done! I’m done! Swear!” Steve held up his hands in defense, taking a step back away from Javi.

“Will you please just give us a minute, Murph?” Javi sighed, running his hand through his hair, trying with every bone in his body to keep his patience with his drunken friend.

“Fine, fine, fine. 1 minute. I’m counting. Use your time wisely and appropriately, you sickos.” Steve snickered, disappearing down the hallway, only to peek his head back out around the corner. “And Jav?”

“What, Murph?”

“Your fly’s undone.”

As you and Javi sheepishly made your way back out to the backyard, you couldn't have been more relieved to see that at this point, anyone still left at your reception was far too drunk to care that you had been missing, seeing that almost all of your guests were out on the dance floor, partying away without a care in the world, or any inkling of what you and Javi had been up to.

“Longer than a minute, but beggars can’t be choosers I guess.” Steve chuckled, creeping up behind you with two drinks in hand, passing them both off to you and Javi. “Here. Figured I owe ya a drink. These are on me.”

“We paid for the bar, Murph.”

“Alright, well I guess these ones are on you, Grumpy Pants.” Steve grumbled mockingly, holding up his hands in defense, trying not to stumble over his own two feet as he made his way back to the dance floor.

“Remind me again why I picked him to be my best man?” Javi laughed, taking a sip of his drink, the both of you snickering as you watched Steve whip out some questionable dance moves to “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen blaring in the background and Connie shake her head at her husband.

“Because you love him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an idiot, but he’s a good guy.” You smiled, giving Javi a little nudge, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked out at the dance floor. “Hey-” You paused, holding up your glass and raising it to Javi’s. “Cheers.”

“Cheers to what, Osita?” Javi asked, wrapping his arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he brought his glass next to yours.

“Cheers to us. I love you so much, Javier Peña, it makes me sick. Sicker than all this tequila is gonna make me tomorrow after I keep drinking it the rest of the night.”

The two of you snorted, goofily clinking your glasses and taking a hefty sip of your drinks as you looked out on the dance floor, your hearts overflowing with love and joy to know that you were surrounded by all of the people in the world you cared about most, even the ones that couldn’t be physically with you, to celebrate the biggest day of your life and the start of your new forever.

“Cheers, Hermosa. I love you so goddamn much. Maybe the hangover will help distract the nerves on the flight tomorrow.” Javi smirked, taking another sip of his drink as he shook you playfully in his grasp, your faces both lighting up as you remembered that tomorrow, you be in the Bahamas for the next 10 days, where the only thing you needed to worry about was where you wanted to lay on the beach, what drink you wanted in your hand, and now, seeing how quickly Javi could get you pregnant.

“Oh shut up.” You sighed, giving Javi a little slap to the chest before taking another sip of your drink, looking up at Javi with heavy lashes, batting your eyes at him. “You just have to remind me that I have to do some unpacking before we leave tomorrow.”

“Unpacking?” Javi asked, tilting his head in confusion at you, the gears in his brain turning as you bit down on your lip, raising your eyebrow at him, waiting for him to piece together your clue. “Oh. Oh.”

Javi’s eyes went wide as he remembered what you meant, heart racing in anticipation, never imagining before today that he would have been so excited to actively throw away birth control to try and have a kid.

“Can we throw it away tonight?” Javi pleaded, his puppy dog eyes in full effect.

“I’m not sure what difference tonight and tomorrow morning is gonna make, but sure. Happy wedding present.” You giggled, pressing up onto your tiptoes to plant a long, hot kiss.

“Best fucking gift I could ask for besides the fact I finally get to call you my wife.”

As the end of the song slowly faded out, “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” began to play next in the background, your face lighting up in excitement and Javi’s eyes rolling, hearing the song that had been most likely the biggest controversy of your entire wedding planning process now bumping through the speakers, followed by the cheers and hollers of your guests.

“I told you people would want to hear this song.” You said smugly, crossing your arms over your chest, popping your hip at Javi as you sassed him, making him shake his head at your theatrics.

“It doesn’t stop it from being a stupidly annoying song.”

“A stupidly annoying song that people love. A stupidly annoying song that your wife loves.” You teased. “Whaddya say, Peña, can you stand this unbearably stupid song to go dance with me?

“I’d dance to this song with you a million times if it means I get to dance with you.”

Grabbing Javi by the hand, you tugged him out to the dance floor in a fit of giggles and smiles, jumping along and dancing to the beat song after song the rest of the night with your friends, family and husband.

You couldn't help but catch yourself stopping now and again to smile to yourself to take everything in, feeling like you needed to pinch yourself to make sure this was all really real. Just over a year ago, your life felt like it had hit an all time low. You had moved halfway across the country to try and run from your pain, desperate to find any way to bring yourself any ounce of peace in your ocean of hurt. It felt like fate had forsaken you for the worst, kicking you while you were down, and leaving destruction in its wake.

But never in a million years would you have believed that fate would have sent you with a one way ticket to Laredo, Texas, and that trip would bring so much more than just the glimmer of hope you longed for. It had brought you peace, comfort, the acceptance you weren’t sure you would have ever allowed yourself to feel. Laredo had brought you everything you never expected, and all of the things you never thought you deserved.

It brought you Javi- the man who single handedly changed your life for the better, loving you unconditionally for every part of your being and piecing back together the parts of your heart you had left broken.

It brought you the man you now got to call your husband.

Fate and life have funny ways of working together to bring you the things you need the most when you least expect them. And today, as you got to marry the love of your life and your very best friend, you knew you’d be forever thankful that fate stepped in when you needed it most.

La vida es graciosa, no lo crees? (Life is funny, isn’t it?)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadresa @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @amyispxnk @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3 @survivingandenduring

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uncharismatic-fauna · 4 months

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Uncharismatic Fact of the Day

Though they may look unassuming, brown trout are actually one of the most diverse vertebrates in the world! Populations and individuals can look wildly different from each other, to the point where many groups were often mislabeled as entirely separate species, and they have a remarkable ability to adapt to any environment. In fact, there is more genetic diversity between populations of British brown trout than there is between any population of the human race.

(Images: Three morphs of brown trout (Salmo trutta) by Eric Engbretson, David Miller and Jon Beer)

#brown trout #Salmoniformes #Salmonidae #trout #salmonids #ray finned fish #bony fish #fish #uncharismatic facts

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

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You Weren't Supposed to Hear That

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x shy!wife!fem!reader

Summary: After years of trying, you get pregnant. With Deacon's birthday coming up, you decide to surprise him with the news, but he catches on to your nervousness and you accidentally tell him more than you mean to.

Warnings: brief angst, lots of fluff, Deacon teases his shy wife

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (we're pretending this is Deacon's party lol)

“Deac,” you mumble, trying to turn away from him.

“Your cheeks are really warm. Maybe we should both stay home today,” Deacon teases before pressing more kisses to your jawline.

You keep your eyes closed, accepting your fate as Deacon moves closer to you, kissing over your cheekbones.

“It is my birth-week,” Deacon adds. “You shouldn’t deprive me of your love this close to my birthday.”

“And you shouldn’t try to make my cheeks warm so often,” you argue halfheartedly.

“Try? Oh, sweetheart, I succeed every time I set out to make you shy.”

You turn toward your husband, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. He chuckles, rubbing your back. Deacon doesn’t know, but you’ve been craving his touch more than usual the last few weeks. With his surprise birthday party approaching, you’re keeping more than one secret from him.

“Would you really stay home with me?” You trace your finger over his chest as he answers.

“In a heartbeat.”

“One of yours or one of mine?”

Deacon presses a hand to your chest, and you immediately regret the question. Your heart races beneath his touch, and he nods as if inspecting something.

“Yours.”

��Go to work,” you request, leaning closer to him.

“I’m getting mixed signals.”

“Then pick one.”

“Grumpy this morning, aren’t we?”

You don’t answer, moving impossibly closer and tangling your legs with Deacon’s. He chooses the first option of going to work, pressing apologetic kisses to your forehead as he removes himself from you.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he promises. “I love you.”

“I love you. Be safe.”

“Always. Gotta get back to those warm cheeks and racehorse heart.”

You frown at his teasing, and he chuckles on his way out. After his car leaves the driveway, you move your hands to your stomach, wondering if he can tell you’re not quite the same. Keeping the secrets is hard, especially when he looks up at you with his big, brown eyes, but you only have a few more days. As long as he doesn’t ask, you’ll be fine.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’s the problem, Deac?” Luca asks, lowering the boxing mitts on his hands. “You’re not pullin’ your punches like usual.”

“Something’s up with my wife but she’s too shy to tell me. I’d think it was about my birthday, but she’ll talk about that with no problem.”

Deacon looks down, and Luca looks over at Hondo. Hondo shrugs, unaware of anything other than the surprise party.

“Any ideas about what she would keep secret?” Luca asks.

“Nothing, I didn’t think. It takes some time to get her to talk, but she tells me everything eventually.”

“Then she’ll tell you whatever this is when she’s ready, too.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You stare at the ultrasound until it grows blurry. The tiny baby growing inside you is just a speck of white ink. Since you got married, you’ve wanted to start a family with Deacon, but it never seemed to work. When you were late a few weeks ago, you didn’t think much of it until you saw the two pink lines on the test. After dozens of negative tests and nights of Deacon drying your tears, you thought you imagined it. The ultrasound in your hand is proof, though, as are the nausea and the weight gain no one except you has noticed.

When you hear a car door close, you rush to hide the ultrasound. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, like Poe’s telltale heart beneath the floorboards. If Deacon finds the ultrasound before the party, he will assume you were hiding it. Which you are, but because you want it to be a birthday present. You’ve been nervous about Deacon catching on by himself, but with proof like this in the house, your nervousness grows into genuine fear that half of the surprise will be ruined.

“You okay?” Deacon asks.

Looking up quickly, you wonder how you didn’t hear him come in. “Yeah,” you answer softly. “Just thinking.”

Deacon nods, sitting next to you and pulling you into a hug.

“Are you sure everything is okay? You’ve been quiet, a different quiet.”

You shrug, and Deacon’s hands move to your waist. Freezing at the contact so close to your stomach, you open your mouth to explain, but Deacon removes his hands before you can.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, moving back to give you room.

“Wait, no, Deacon,” you begin aimlessly.

“It’s okay. You want space?”

“No. I don’t want space from you, I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”

Nodding quickly, you force yourself to remember how perfect the plan is. If you want the reveal to be memorable, you must find a way to convince Deacon you are completely fine, normal, even.

“What do you want me to do?” Deacon asks.

Unable to think of an answer quickly, you only succeed in growing more nervous. Terrified that Deacon will believe you’re hiding something much bigger or dangerous to your relationship, your anxiety over the reveal mixes with the uncertainty of what Deacon is thinking.

“Are we- do you trust me?” you whisper.

“Of course.”

“Then can you just give me a few days without asking and then I’ll tell you once I know for sure?”

“So something is happening?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Maybe or you don’t know?”

Deacon’s voice is soft and kind, without a trace of his usual teasing, and you can’t take his genuine concern for much longer.

“Please stop asking questions. Just for now.”

Deacon nods, his eyes cast down at his wedding ring.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you,” Deacon repeats. “And I do trust you. Sorry if I pushed too much.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up the following morning, you can feel much more weight on your stomach and chest. Usually, that would indicate Deacon is holding you close; when you open your eyes, he is entirely on his side of the bed, with a person-sized gap between you. Between your fear, nervousness, and the hormones of being pregnant, you don’t even form a thought before you start crying.

Trying to silence your cries, you push your hand over your mouth and shake against your pillow. It isn’t long before Deacon’s hands are on you.

“Sweetheart,” he calls, which only makes you more upset.

You sit up, letting him help you as you look up at him until you are eye-to-eye.

“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” you explain quickly, not thinking before you speak. “I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise and I thought that if you caught on to me being nervous you’d think it was about your birthday present, and part of it is, but you’re also so smart and you know me better than I know myself. So, if you realized that I was pregnant before I got to tell you it would ruin the surprise and your birthday, and I didn’t know how to keep it from you without being scared.”

You take a deep breath, and Deacon smiles brightly as he wipes your tears.

“You’re pregnant?” he asks quietly, cupping your face in his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” you reply before sniffling.

“I can pretend I didn’t.”

“Are you- is that okay?”

“Are you kidding? This is what we’ve wanted since we got married. You’re amazing, sweetheart.”

“Didn’t do it alone,” you mumble.

“Ow,” Deacon breathes out, pulling his hands away. “You burned me.”

You pout, leaning forward until your forehead hits Deacon’s shoulder.

“You’ll pretend to not know?”

“I’ll act surprised,” Deacon counters, dropping his hands to your stomach. “But I can’t promise anything else.”

“Sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“Well it was this or let me think you were falling out of love with me, so I’m not upset.”

“I could never.”

“Tell me again when my hands don’t leave your baby bump,” Deacon teases.

✯✯✯✯✯

When Deacon’s birthday finally arrives, after days of being shy, warm-cheeked putty in his hands, you’re excited for his surprise party. Despite your word vomit incident, you managed to keep it a secret.

“Why are we at SWAT H.Q. on my day off?” Deacon asks, his hands wandering your waist.

“Deac,” you warn. When he pulls his hands back, you answer, “Because I had your gift delivered to Hicks.”

“You didn’t trust me not to open it?”

“No, I did not.”

“Ouch.”

His teasing is cut short when his team jumps out, yelling, “Surprise!” and “Happy Birthday, Deac!”

He smiles at you before thanking everyone. Hicks makes his way to your side, pulling you into a hug as he hands you one of Deacon’s gifts.

“I’ll never know how you managed to keep this a secret,” Hicks muses.

“Me neither,” you agree.

After slicing the cake and giving Deacon his presents, you reveal the one gift you’ve dreamed of giving him since your wedding day: a positive pregnancy test. He, admittedly, does a decent job of acting surprised. But when he sees the ultrasound for the first time, he stops pretending and falls in love with you again.

“Thank you,” Deacon says through his tears, hugging you tightly.

You are then hugged and congratulated by everyone on 20-David and Hicks. Each man makes a short pitch of being the best uncle, and you laugh after all of them.

“Happy birth-week, Deacon. I love you,” you say as you get back in the car.

“I love you, every part of you and the baby you’re making,” Deacon replies, pushing his hand under the hem of your shirt.

“I think you were right… your hands on me all the time may be a dealbreaker.”

“Might I suggest…” Deacon pauses as he kisses you. “remembering that I’m the dad, and your husband, and madly in love with you?”

“I can try as long as you don’t keep doing that.”

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #shy!reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #requests #fem!reader #swat cbs #team shy!

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drghostwrite · 30 days

Text

Running back to you…

Pairing: Regina Mills x reader

Summary: After Regina keeps going cold on reader you finally tell her how you really feel. How is she going to take you telling her how much you love her?... Feat the other world Robin.

******************************************************** "Robin!" you looked up watching as Regina ran to him, she wrapped her arms around him as he stood there just looking at her, not returning the embrace, she pulled away and you watched as her face dropped seeing that he couldn't have cared any less.

Your stomach turned and hands shook at watching the interaction, why did she keep going for him, the constant advances that were turned down, the wishful glances returned with blank stares. For almost an entire year you had been in love with the woman and yet she wouldn't even bat an eye, you were just a friend her person, the dependable shoulder for her to cry on.

You're the one that climbed out of your totaled car after the accident, battered and ran headfirst into the fire to save Henry, her son, while Robin stood idly by after saving himself.

"Hey Y/N, David has to stay here with Emma to clean up the scene, I'll take you home." you turned met by her gentle expression and nodded."

"You're cleared, but if you're feeling intense pain I would recommend letting us take you to the hospital." the paramedic said acknowledging you and Snow as you watched Regina.

"I think I'm good," you said a light smile pulling the corner of your mouth, you got up to walk away.

"You're a hero, you know..." the young woman called after you. You turned around to slightly face her, "saving the kid, it was brave, no many people can say they have the guts to do something like that... and her I'm sure she'll see it."

"Thanks." you said looking at Regina before turning to walk away, you climbed into David's truck as snow took you home.

"You saved his life..." she said breaking the silence. You watched the trees pass by in the darkness outside the window as rain started to fall, rain drops racing down the window. A few minutes later you pulled into your driveway, hopping out and heading towards your door.

"Hey Y/N..." Snow called

"Yea?" you turned to her.

"Just tell her." she said and you nodded as she pulled away into the night.

---time jump---

2 hours later you heard a soft knock on your door, you pulled yourself off of the couch with a grimace, holding your injured side you pulled the door open, revealing a disheveled Regina, dark jeans and her black long sleeve had rain spots from the storm outside.

"Regina, " you whispered in suprise at seeing the woman on your doorstep.

"Y/N, can I come in?" she asked and you stepped aside letting her come in. She looked around your keys thrown on the table next to the door with your phone. Your brown suede jacket hanging on the chair, your brown boots had mud on them placed next to the chair in the dining room, she followed you to the kitchen as you went to grab a drink.

"Want anything coffee, tea?" you asked back still turned to her as you poured coffee.

"Coffee would be nice, thanks" she said as you poured her a cup, turning to her she saw the gash on your forhead being held together with little white butterfly bandages, a black eye, and your lip sliced open drops of blood on your tank running down your shoulder.

"Y/N..." she said concern flooding her features at the condition of your face.

"I'm okay," you said pulling out a small smirk. she leaned forward to get a closer look at you, her hand ghosted over your side, the slight touch making you wince at the pain in your side.

"Y/N..." she said lifting your tank to reveal the already purpling bruises.

"Don't Regina." you said reading her face.

"Please just.."

"Regina!"

"Shut up and let me help you!" she scolded, her magic quickly flowing to ease the pain, repairing the injuries. a moment of silence pasing between you but a conversation happening behind your eyes

"I wanted to say thank you..." She looked up at you but you were avoiding her eyes by watching her hands, as the purple flowed between you, "For saving Henry, I know that wasn't easy and you got hurt in the process, but..."

"I can't do this," you said quickly pushing past her.

"Y/N here just let me help you, you're hurting..."

"Regina, Just stop!" you snapped.

"Y/N?" she asked treading lightly, her body language was protective as she tried to keep her defenses from going up.

"I-I just can't right now." you said and turned your back to her leaning on the island.

"Did I do something?"

"No..."

"Then what is it?"

"nothing..." you said vaguely trying to calm yourself down.

"It's not nothing..." She rouned the island to come to your side, and looked at you softly with concern.

"Y/N I love you, I'm here..."

"Do you?" you whispered under your breath.

"What?" she asked.

"Do you love me? Truly love me?" you said looking up to make eye contact with her."

"Is that even a question?"

"Obviously... Regina, is you knew what was good for you..."

"Y/N where is this coming from?... why would you even question if I love you?"

"Because, no matter how hard I try you return to him every time."

"Robin? is that what this is about, why would you say that?"

"Because I LOVE you, I love you, I'm in love with you... For awhile now, and I see how you look at him, and in return what do you get... Regina I want you and only you, everything, the good and bad, Regina and the Evil Queen, Henry, all of it." you snapped back, realization of what you said hitting you when you saw her face.

"Time after time I watch as you run back to him, he doesn't know you, he doesn't love you and yet you go back everytime... tonight I climbed out of a totaled car and into a burning one not just because I love Henry but because I know what he means ot you and I love you with everything I have, and you still ran to Robin after he did what make sure no hair was out of place. I would risk my life for you everytime cause I want nothing more than to have a life with you, to love you, and show you what true love is."

"Y/N..." she said trying to find the words.

"I'm sorry," you said hanging your head, waiting for her to reject you and scold you. But instead she stepped closer to you, she lifted your chin with her fingers and suddenly her lips were on yours.

"I never knew, I didn't think you would want me so I tried to stay away... I have a lot that comes with me and I always thought you were too good to have to be put through that." she said resting her forehead on yours.

"Regina that's the point, I would voluntarily walk through the fire with you if it meant we both made it out, I don't deal with this baggage, your scars because I have to, I do it because I want to, because I love you." you said pressing your lips to hers in the gentlest kiss you could muster.

"So what does this mean for us," she said a few tears falling.

"It means whatever you want it to, it means you have a protector, someone you can run to. You were never meant to belong somewhere that you aren't loved."

"No, I belong with you," she said looking up into your eyes, her coffee brown orbs soothing your soul, "my happy ending."

"A part of it at least."

"no Y/N you are my happy ending, the arms that I find comfort in, the person that I get to come home to, you're my future."

"Regina..."

"I want to have babies and a beautiful home, and live in love, it's never easy but it's a choice I'm willing to make everyday, something I will fight for until I draw my last breath, I will always come running back to you."

"And my arms will always be open, our home will always be our safe haven," you said pulling her in for a kiss feeling the hot tears touch your cheek as she cried in relief of the confession.

#x yn #fluff prompts #x reader #regina mills x reader #ouat x reader #ouat fanfiction #ouat #regina mills #emma swan #snow white #storybrooke #running back #safe haven

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thundercrack · 9 months

Text

Study of Elite College Admissions Data Suggests Being Very Rich Is Its Own Qualification

By Aatish Bhatia, Claire Cain Miller and Josh Katz July 24, 2023 (full text under the cut)

Elite colleges have long been filled with the children of the richest families: At Ivy League schools, one in six students has parents in the top 1 percent.

A large new study, released Monday, shows that it has not been because these children had more impressive grades on average or took harder classes. They tended to have higher SAT scores and finely honed résumés, and applied at a higher rate — but they were overrepresented even after accounting for those things. For applicants with the same SAT or ACT score, children from families in the top 1 percent were 34 percent more likely to be admitted than the average applicant, and those from the top 0.1 percent were more than twice as likely to get in.

The study — by Opportunity Insights, a group of economists based at Harvard who study inequality — quantifies for the first time the extent to which being very rich is its own qualification in selective college admissions.

The analysis is based on federal records of college attendance and parental income taxes for nearly all college students from 1999 to 2015, and standardized test scores from 2001 to 2015. It focuses on the eight Ivy League universities, as well as Stanford, Duke, M.I.T. and the University of Chicago. It adds an extraordinary new data set: the detailed, anonymized internal admissions assessments of at least three of the 12 colleges, covering half a million applicants. (The researchers did not name the colleges that shared data or specify how many did because they promised them anonymity.)

The new data shows that among students with the same test scores, the colleges gave preference to the children of alumni and to recruited athletes, and gave children from private schools higher nonacademic ratings. The result is the clearest picture yet of how America’s elite colleges perpetuate the intergenerational transfer of wealth and opportunity.

“What I conclude from this study is the Ivy League doesn’t have low-income students because it doesn’t want low-income students,” said Susan Dynarski, an economist at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, who has reviewed the data and was not involved in the study.

In effect, the study shows, these policies amounted to affirmative action for the children of the 1 percent, whose parents earn more than $611,000 a year. It comes as colleges are being forced to rethink their admissions processes after the Supreme Court ruling that race-based affirmative action is unconstitutional.

“Are these highly selective private colleges in America taking kids from very high-income, influential families and basically channeling them to remain at the top in the next generation?” said Raj Chetty, an economist at Harvard who directs Opportunity Insights, and an author of the paper with John N. Friedman of Brown and David J. Deming of Harvard. “Flipping that question on its head, could we potentially diversify who’s in a position of leadership in our society by changing who is admitted?”

Representatives from several of the colleges said that income diversity was an urgent priority, and that they had taken significant steps since 2015, when the data in the study ends, to admit lower-income and first-generation students. These include making tuition free for families earning under a certain amount; giving only grants, not loans, in financial aid; and actively recruiting students from disadvantaged high schools.

“We believe that talent exists in every sector of the American income distribution,” said Christopher L. Eisgruber, the president of Princeton. “I am proud of what we have done to increase socioeconomic diversity at Princeton, but I also believe that we need to do more — and we will do more.”

Affirmative action for the rich

In a concurring opinion in the affirmative action case, Justice Neil Gorsuch addressed the practice of favoring the children of alumni and donors, which is also the subject of a new case. “While race-neutral on their face, too, these preferences undoubtedly benefit white and wealthy applicants the most,” he wrote.

The new paper did not include admissions rates by race because previous research had done so, the researchers said. They found that racial differences were not driving the results. When looking only at applicants of one race, for example, those from the highest-income families still had an advantage. Yet the top 1 percent is overwhelmingly white. Some analysts have proposed diversifying by class as a way to achieve more racial diversity without affirmative action.

The new data showed that other selective private colleges, like Northwestern, N.Y.U. and Notre Dame, had a similarly disproportionate share of children from rich families. Public flagship universities were much more equitable. At places like the University of Texas at Austin and the University of Virginia, applicants with high-income parents were no more likely to be admitted than lower-income applicants with comparable scores.

Less than 1 percent of American college students attend the 12 elite colleges. But the group plays an outsize role in American society: 12 percent of Fortune 500 chief executives and a quarter of U.S. senators attended. So did 13 percent of the top 0.1 percent of earners. The focus on these colleges is warranted, the researchers say, because they provide paths to power and influence — and diversifying who attends has the potential to change who makes decisions in America.

The researchers did a novel analysis to measure whether attending one of these colleges causes success later in life. They compared students who were wait-listed and got in, with those who didn’t and attended another college instead. Consistent with previous research, they found that attending an Ivy instead of one of the top nine public flagships did not meaningfully increase graduates’ income, on average. However, it did increase a student’s predicted chance of earning in the top 1 percent to 19 percent, from 12 percent.

For outcomes other than earnings, the effect was even larger — it nearly doubled the estimated chance of attending a top graduate school, and tripled the estimated chance of working at firms that are considered prestigious, like national news organizations and research hospitals.

“Sure, it’s a tiny slice of schools,” said Professor Dynarski, who has studied college admissions and worked with the University of Michigan on increasing the attendance of low-income students, and has occasionally contributed to The New York Times. “But having representation is important, and this shows how much of a difference the Ivies make: The political elite, the economic elite, the intellectual elite are coming out of these schools.”

The missing middle class

The advantage to rich applicants varied by college, the study found: At Dartmouth, students from the top 0.1 percent were five times as likely to attend as the average applicant with the same test score, while at M.I.T. they were no more likely to attend. (The fact that children from higher-income families tend to have higher standardized test scores and are likelier to receive private coaching suggests that the study may actually underestimate their admissions advantage.)

An applicant with a high test score from a family earning less than $68,000 a year was also likelier than the average applicant to get in, though there were fewer applicants like this.

Children from middle- and upper-middle-class families — including those at public high schools in high-income neighborhoods — applied in large numbers. But they were, on an individual basis, less likely to be admitted than the richest or, to a lesser extent, poorest students with the same test scores. In that sense, the data confirms the feeling among many merely affluent parents that getting their children into elite colleges is increasingly difficult.

“We had these very skewed distributions of a whole lot of Pell kids and a whole lot of no-need kids, and the middle went missing,” said an Ivy League dean of admissions, who has seen the new data and spoke anonymously in order to talk openly about the process. “You’re not going to win a P.R. battle by saying you have X number of families making over $200,000 that qualify for financial aid.”

The researchers could see, for nearly all college students in the United States from 1999 to 2015, where they applied and attended, their SAT or ACT scores and whether they received a Pell grant for low-income students. They could also see their parents’ income tax records, which enabled them to analyze attendance by earnings in more detail than any previous research. They conducted the analysis using anonymized data.

For the several elite colleges that also shared internal admissions data, they could see other aspects of students’ applications between 2001 and 2015, including how admissions offices rated them. They focused their analysis on the most recent years, 2011 to 2015.

Though they had this data for a minority of the dozen top colleges, the researchers said they thought it was representative of the other colleges in the group (with the exception of M.I.T.). The other colleges admitted more students from high-income families, showed preferences for legacies and recruited athletes, and described similar admissions practices in conversations with the researchers, they said.

“Nobody has this kind of data; it’s completely unheard-of,” said Michael Bastedo, a professor at the University of Michigan’s School of Education, who has done prominent research on college admissions. “I think it’s really important to good faith efforts for reforming the system to start by being able to look honestly and candidly at the data.”

How the richest students benefit

Before this study, it was clear that colleges enrolled more rich students, but it was not known whether it was just because more applied. The new study showed that’s part of it: One-third of the difference in attendance rates was because middle-class students were somewhat less likely to apply or matriculate. But the bigger factor was that these colleges were more likely to accept the richest applicants.

Legacy admissions

The largest advantage for the 1 percent was the preference for legacies. The study showed — for the first time at this scale — that legacies were more qualified overall than the average applicant. But even when comparing applicants who were similar in every other way, legacies still had an advantage.

When high-income applicants applied to the college their parents attended, they were accepted at much higher rates than other applicants with similar qualifications — but at the other top-dozen colleges, they were no more likely to get in.

“This is not a sideshow, not just a symbolic issue,” Professor Bastedo said of the finding.

Athletes

One in eight admitted students from the top 1 percent was a recruited athlete. For the bottom 60 percent, that figure was one in 20. That’s largely because children from rich families are more likely to play sports, especially more exclusive sports played at certain colleges, like rowing and fencing. The study estimated that athletes were admitted at four times the rate of nonathletes with the same qualifications.

“There’s a common misperception that it’s about basketball and football and low-income kids making their way into selective colleges,” Professor Bastedo said. “But the enrollment leaders know athletes tend to be wealthier, so it’s a win-win.”

Nonacademic ratings

There was a third factor driving the preference for the richest applicants. The colleges in the study generally give applicants numerical scores for academic achievement and for more subjective nonacademic virtues, like extracurricular activities, volunteering and personality traits. Students from the top 1 percent with the same test scores did not have higher academic ratings. But they had significantly higher nonacademic ratings.

At one of the colleges that shared admissions data, students from the top 0.1 percent were 1.5 times as likely to have high nonacademic ratings as those from the middle class. The researchers said that, accounting for differences in the way each school assesses nonacademic credentials, they found similar patterns at the other colleges that shared data.

The biggest contributor was that admissions committees gave higher scores to students from private, nonreligious high schools. They were twice as likely to be admitted as similar students — those with the same SAT scores, race, gender and parental income — from public schools in high-income neighborhoods. A major factor was recommendations from guidance counselors and teachers at private high schools.

“Parents rattle off that a kid got in because he was first chair in the orchestra, ran track,” said John Morganelli Jr., a former director of admissions at Cornell and founder of Ivy League Admissions, where he advises high school students on applying to college. “They never say what really happens: Did the guidance counselor advocate on that kid’s behalf?”

Recommendation letters from private school counselors are notoriously flowery, he said, and the counselors call admissions officers about certain students.

“This is how the feeder schools get created,” he said. “Nobody’s calling on behalf of a middle- or lower-income student. Most of the public school counselors don’t even know these calls exist.”

The end of need-blind admissions?

Overall, the study suggests, if elite colleges had done away with the preferences for legacies, athletes and private school students, the children of the top 1 percent would have made up 10 percent of a class, down from 16 percent in the years of the study.

Legacy students, athletes and private school students do no better after college, in terms of earnings or reaching a top graduate school or firm, it found. In fact, they generally do somewhat worse.

The dean of admissions who spoke anonymously said change was easier said than done: “I would say there’s much more commitment to this than may be obvious. It’s just the solution is really complicated, and if we could have done it, we would have.”

For example, it’s not feasible to choose athletes from across the income spectrum if many college sports are played almost entirely by children from high-earning families. Legacies are perhaps the most complicated, the admissions dean said, because they tend to be highly qualified and their admission is important for maintaining strong ties with alumni.

Ending that preference, the person said, “is not an easy decision to make, given the alumni response, especially if you’re not in immediate concurrence with the rest of the Ivies.” (Though children of very large donors also get special consideration by admissions offices, they were not included in the analysis because there are relatively few of them.)

People involved in admissions say that achieving more economic diversity would be difficult without doing something else: ending need-blind admissions, the practice that prevents admissions officers from seeing families’ financial information so their ability to pay is not a factor. Some colleges are already doing what they call “need-affirmative admissions,” for the purpose of selecting more students from the low end of the income spectrum, though they often don’t publicly acknowledge it for fear of blowback.

There is a tool, Landscape from the College Board, to help determine if an applicant grew up in a neighborhood with significant privilege or adversity. But these colleges have no knowledge of parents’ income if students don’t apply for financial aid.

Ivy League colleges and their peers have recently made significant efforts to recruit more low-income students and subsidize tuition. Several now make attendance entirely free for families below a certain income — $100,000 at Stanford and Princeton, $85,000 at Harvard, and $60,000 at Brown.

At Princeton, one-fifth of students are now from low-income families, and one-fourth receive a full ride. It has recently reinstated a transfer program to recruit low-income and community college students. At Harvard, one-fourth of this fall’s freshman class is from families with incomes less than $85,000, who will pay nothing. The majority of freshmen will receive some amount of aid.

Dartmouth just raised $500 million to expand financial aid: “While we respect the work of Harvard’s Opportunity Insights, we believe our commitment to these investments and our admissions policies since 2015 tells an important story about the socioeconomic diversity among Dartmouth students,” said Jana Barnello, a spokeswoman.

Public flagships do admissions differently, in a way that ends up benefiting rich students less. The University of California schools forbid giving preference to legacies or donors, and some, like U.C.L.A., do not consider letters of recommendation. The application asks for family income, and colleges get detailed information about California high schools. Application readers are trained to consider students’ circumstances, like whether they worked to support their families in high school, as “evidence of maturity, determination and insight.”

The University of California system also partners with schools in the state, from pre-K through community college, to support students who face barriers. There’s a robust program for transfer students from California community colleges; at U.C.L.A., half are from low-income backgrounds.

M.I.T., which stands out among elite private schools as displaying almost no preference for rich students, has never given a preference to legacy applicants, said its dean of admissions, Stuart Schmill. It does recruit athletes, but they do not receive any preference or go through a separate admissions process (as much as it may frustrate coaches, he said).

“I think the most important thing here is talent is distributed equally but opportunity is not, and our admissions process is designed to account for the different opportunities students have based on their income,” he said. “It’s really incumbent upon our process to tease out the difference between talent and privilege.”

Source: Raj Chetty, David J. Deming and John N. Friedman, “Diversifying Society’s Leaders? The Determinants and Causal Effects of Admission to Highly Selective Private Colleges”

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blurglesmurfklaine · 1 month

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Truth be told, Jack doesn’t remember the eight seconds he spent on the bronco’s back.

If any moon-eyed fangirls come up to him and ask about it, he plans on giving the standard blanket responses, like all he heard was the roar of the crowd.

In actuality, all he has are fragments from right before the livestock hands pulled that gate. It’s hard to forget that kind of anticipation racing through his veins, the sawing sound of rope pinning his riding glove to the back of the horse as Jack grit his teeth, ordering Racer to pull it even tighter.

Everything else, like the sickening crack from his head slamming against Midnight Train’s spine that made the audience cringe in horror, was told to him second hand.

The trainer who checked him out gave him a lot of medical jargon he wasn’t too familiar with, but Jack gathered the important stuff. No riding for three days, get plenty of rest, neither of which he has any intention of following. And of course, there was the whole spiel about concussions affecting memory.

Imprinted in his is the face of one of the pick-up men as Jack faded in and out of consciousness, stern and cool and steady. He can nearly still feel strong arms around him, keeping him from falling into the dirt of the arena, can still hear the New York accent reassuringly mutter, “I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”

So if Jack can’t stop thinking of the pick-up man who hauled his limp body from the horse into his lap, he’s chalking it up to brain damage.

He’s been named Rookie of The Year for Bareback Riding—Jack Kelly can’t afford to be distracted by any potential flings.

And still, every time he blinks, that face is waiting for him just behind his eyelids.

It’s the longest, most agonizing twenty-four hours before an opportunity to make a bad decision presents itself to Jack. He usually doesn’t make it that long. He also usually doesn’t go that long without visiting Dancer, but his body needed to recover after being thrown off that horse in the arena.

The first thing that greets Jack when he enters the stables is the very same face that’s been stuck in his mind since yesterday. The pick-up man is reaching up, brushing the soft golden mane of the quarter horse that pulled Jack off the bronco.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he greets, drawing up his most charming first-impressions smile.

“In the stables?” asks the pick-up man. Not an ounce of his attention dedicated to brushing his horse’s long blond mane is redirected to Jack. “Pretty sure this is the least fancy place to meet someone.”

“It’s as good a place as any to thank you. For yesterday.”

“I assume you mean when you got your ass bucked off of Midnight Train and I dragged you out?”

Jack scoffs. He should probably be accosted, but he’s only more intrigued. “That would be correct,” he admits.

“No need to thank me, in that case. Just doing my job.”

“Be nice if I had a name to the face that saved my rawhide.”

“And it’d be nice if you checked your staff sheet maybe once before you rode.”

Jack blinks. “Pardon me,” he begins, leaning an elbow up against Dancer’s stable, “but have I offended you?”

“Not yet.” His head twitches in annoyance. “But you’re a rodeo man. You’re bound to eventually.”

Jack crosses his arms. “I’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

The pick-up man pauses and sighs, finally rewarding Jack with a look in his direction. He pretends not to, but Jack catches the way his eyes quickly scan him up and down. “David. David Jacobs. Which you’d have known if you’d check your staff sheet. You haven’t even bothered to give me your name, because you assume everyone already knows it.”

“So you’re saying you haven’t heard of me.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you, Jack Kelly,” David answers, turning his attention back to the silky mane he’d been brushing.

Jack looks up at the horse in question—a beautiful quarter with an unusual coloring halfway between brown and straight up golden. He steals another glance at David, head turned up in an admiration that’s reserved for the sacred bond between man and horse, as ridiculous as Jack admits that sounds.

Still, it’s quite the sight. David is quite the sight, beams of the setting sun reflecting off his green eyes, the shadows accentuating the perfect combination of curves and angles on his face.

“Gorgeous,” Jack finds himself muttering.

“Thanks,” David replies, completely missing where Jack’s compliment was directed. “Shimmer’s my pride and joy. If you should be thanking anyone, it’s her. She’s a bit of a social butterfly. Even broncs love her.” He turns his gaze to Which one’s yours?”

“The skittery one right next door.” Jack points out the appaloosa horse, Dancer, aptly named for the way she fidgets her feet when she’s excited.

David snorts. “Figures. Shimmer’s obsessed with her. I always catch them talking to each other ‘cross the stables.”

“Funny. I’m obsessed with you.”

David rolls his eyes. “Maybe you should be obsessed with brushing up your technique, and you won’t get your ass handed to you so often.”

“Ass handed to me? I made it to eight seconds.” He also ranked fourth in the semifinals. As a rookie. But he won’t bring that up right now.

“It’s going to take a lot more than eight seconds to impress me.”

“Let me take you out to dinner then, darlin’. Show you that I can go all night.”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

Jack shrugs. “To be completely honest, I think I’m downright adorable, but that’s besides the point.”

He thinks he might see David’s mouth twitch when he returns his attention to Jack. “I don’t sleep with cowboys. Kind of a rule of mine.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, you spend a night with me and we won’t be doing any sleeping.” He chances hooking a finger under David’s chin and dragging his mouth dangerously close to his ear. It’s entirely too brazen and forward, but Jack doesn’t know any other way to be. “You think Broncos are the only thing I know how to ride?” he asks, grinning when he hears David swallow around a drying throat.

“You couldn’t keep me saddled if you tried,” David mutters back, and his breath against Jack’s cheek sends a shudder from his ear, through his spine, all the way down to his toes.

And then David shoves him. Hard. Sending Jack toppling over his own feet and sprawling out onto the ground with an incredible lack of grace.

“Like I said,” David calls back as he opens the gate to Shimmer’s stable and saddles her up. “Technique could use some fixing.”

The click of horse hooves trotting against cobblestone fading into the distance, Jack decides he’s unequivocally in love with David Jacobs.

#javid #javey #newsies #newsies uk #uksies #livelies #david jacobs #jack kelly #sup bitches im back #i went to the rodeo TWICE since i've been gone and i am a changed woman #I WANNA BE A COWBOY BABEY #also i will not be tolerating any Davey slander to be FAIR he has NO IDEA Jack had a concussion yesterday

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anandrettisimp · 5 days

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So when it comes to IndyCar we have a ‘big three’ when it comes to journalists

Marshall Pruett from RACER magazine

Nathan Brown from the IndyStar

Jenna Fryer from Associate Press

And, in all honesty, this whole Penske P2P situation shows everyone’s strengths.

Pruett is one of those motorsport journalists that were previously a mechanic so not only has that technical knowledge to give a different insight and expand on the information we have so far but has sources amongst the engineering and technical sides that’s others often don’t have.

Brown will ask questions, having gone to Tim Cindric several times since this all came to light and do his own investigations.

And Fryer, throws shade and stirs shit on twitter hoping it will somehow convince someone to give a tell all on her fainting couch.

Like, I wish I was joking. The woman has been attacking Josef since this began of all this happening.

Fun fact: Josef was always scheduled for Friday media, even before it was announced that he would be doing a mini conference in the morning.

And it’s not the first time she’s pulled shit like this.

She spent the “Daytona 23 hours and 58 minutes” acting like a gossip channel about what had happened to Devlin’s puppy as if to justify why she was at the track cause she talked more about blocking people than she did the race itself.

Then we have her basically bashing David Malukas for being upset that he didn’t win the Indy 500 rookie of the year over Jimmie Johnson, falsely claiming that he had abandoned another AP Journalist when he hadn’t and giving a half hearted back pedal before calling him and Dale Coyne Racing unsporting.

There’s also when she reported on Fernando Alonso’s announcement to be doing the 500, which was full of misinformation (highlights being that IndyCar and F1 totally use the same Honda engine and Fernando wasn’t going to have to do the rookie runs). When people including Mario and Michael fucking Andretti were calling her out on her bullshit, what did she do?

Compared herself to a journalist who had been murdered in Russia for speaking out against Putin and then used Billy Monger’s fund raiser as further deflection.

She acts like this, knowing that because she works for AP, people will still come to her with stories.

We’ve literally had Zak and Chip fight over her fainting couch throughout the Palou Contract saga.

And it’s fucking infuriating.

#indycar #Jenna fryer #I’m sorry #but I needed to get this off my chest #like Nathan Brown can be dramatic #but he actually works on a story #rather than hope it comes to him

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morhath · 9 months

Note

Oh I’m very very interested in your nonfiction book recs 👀

EDIT: ykw I'm gonna make this a little more organized

I listed a bunch in this post (the last question) but lemme see if I have any additions because I know I was kinda trying to keep it short when I wrote that. (But that being said, that post is the Top Faves Of All Time, so go for those first.)

Freaky medical shit I also liked:

The Fever: How Malaria Has Ruled Humankind for 500,000 Years by Sonia Shah

The Barbary Plague: The Black Death in Victorian San Francisco by Marilyn Chase (I just read this a few weeks ago and OOUUUGGHHHHHH IT'S LITERALLY JUST. LIKE THE RESPONSE TO COVID.)

The Ghost Map: The Story of London's Most Terrifying Epidemic—and How It Changed Science, Cities, and the Modern World by Steven Johnson

Political shit I also liked:

Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-First Century edited by Alice Wong

The Viral Underclass: The Human Toll When Inequality and Disease Collide by Steven W. Thrasher

Immigrants, Evangelicals, and Politics in an Era of Demographic Change by Janelle S. Wong

History I also liked:

Triangle: The Fire That Changed America by David Von Drehle

The Hamlet Fire: A Tragic Story of Cheap Food, Cheap Government, and Cheap Lives by Bryant Simon (between those two you can tell I was on a bit of a "workplace tragedies caused by lax regulations and bad management" kick)

The Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America's Shining Women by Kate Moore (I think everyone knows about this book, including it for completeness)

Promised the Moon: The Untold Story Of The First Women In The Space Race by Stephanie Nolen

The Women's House of Detention: A Queer History of a Forgotten Prison by Hugh Ryan

Butts: A Backstory by Heather Radke (this is nowhere near as fun and cute as you'd assume from the title)

Memoirs I also liked:

The Less People Know About Us: A Mystery of Betrayal, Family Secrets, and Stolen Identity by Axton Betz-Hamilton (I read this before I really got into nonfiction and it was WILD, I tell people about it all the time)

The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui (this one is a graphic not-novel-I-guess-memoir)

Know My Name by Chanel Miller

Other:

Playing Dead: A Journey Through the World of Death Fraud by Elizabeth Greenwood

A False Report: A True Story of Rape in America by Ken Armstrong, T. Christian Miller

Lost Feast: Culinary Extinction and the Future of Food by Lenore Newman

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror by Joe Vallese

AND here are a few on my TBR that I'm really excited for! I decided not to categorize them because they're almost all history:

Silk and Potatoes: Contemporary Arthurian Fantasy by Adam Roberts

Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown

All the Young Men by Ruth Coker Burks

The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara by David I. Kertzer (I am actually partway through this right now but in a bit of a dry/confusing section)

The Broadcast 41: Women and the Anti-Communist Blacklist by Carol A. Stabile

The Golden Thread: How Fabric Changed History by Kassia St Clair

A Woman of No Importance: The Untold Story of the American Spy Who Helped Win World War II by Sonia Purnell (have just barely started this)

Time to Dance, a Time to Die: The Extraordinary Story of the Dancing Plague of 1518 by John Waller

The Memoirs of Lady Hyegyŏng: The Autobiographical Writings of a Crown Princess of Eighteenth-Century Korea by Lady Hyegyeong

Miss Major Speaks: The Life and Times of a Black Trans Revolutionary by Miss Major Griffin-Gracy

Too Hot to Touch: The Problem of High-Level Nuclear Waste by William M. Alley, Rosemarie Alley (I'm in the middle of this but it's surprisingly, um. not exciting.)

Going Postal: Rage, Murder, and Rebellion: From Reagan's Workplaces to Clinton's Columbine and Beyond by Mark Ames

Pressure Cooker: Why Home Cooking Won't Solve Our Problems and What We Can Do About It by Joslyn Brenton, Sinikka Elliott, Sarah Bowen

Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder

The Fabric of Civilization: How Textiles Made the World by Virginia Postrel

Women's Work: The First 20,000 Years Women, Cloth, and Society in Early Times by Elizabeth Wayland Barber

Medieval Gentlewoman: Life in a Gentry Household in the Later Middle Ages by Ffiona Swabey

Hitler's First Victims: The Beginning of the Holocaust and One Man's Fight to End It by Timothy W. Ryback

I am soso normal and have very normal interests that are not at all grim :)

#long post #life #reading #books #tempestclerics #my book recs

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xalygatorx · 3 months

Text

Unbound | Chapter 15, "Their Jagged Edges"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Astarion tries to comfort Áine through the night and she shares a little of her past with him in good faith. The next morning, Gale sits before the party at large and offers Áine an apology. Astarion expresses his disapproval at Áine’s (in his opinion) swift forgiveness. The group returns to the goblin camp and enters the Underdark. Astarion comes to terms with his feelings.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Comfort/hurt; angst; fluff; trauma; post-traumatic flashbacks; description of feeling triggered and of a panic attack; discussion of the non-con portion of the previous chapter; more of Astarion's internal monologue flashbacks; suggestive content & dialogue; lightly proofread

Word Count: 8.9k

Listening to: Butchered Tongue - Hozier, Daylight (Acoustic) - David Kushner, Jenny of Oldstones - cover by Rachel Hardy

The instant he slid her from his arms onto his bedroll, Astarion’s movements became tightly strung and ever more agitated. He could still feel her rapid heartbeat in his chest even after he no longer carried her, like a song echoed in an endless cavern. The remembered staccato of it spurred him on like a self-inflicted whipping cane as he tore through his wares for something, anything, to help her.

He swore when he knocked over one of his picking kits. Bleeding Hells, Astarion was positively rattled and wasn’t entirely sure how to calm down without going back out to the woods and actually killing Gale, which he still had half a mind to do. No, that would upset her more and possibly blast them all to smithereens. He didn’t have the faintest idea how the damned orb in Gale’s chest worked but he was sorely tempted to test it.

Roughly, he snatched up the tattered blanket at the foot of his bedroll and leaned over Áine to drape it around her shoulders, muttering a curse at himself for having such a bare interior for a tent. For having so little to call his own, so little to offer her. He should’ve just taken her to her own, she would’ve been more comfortable there, but no he’d acted selfishly again at the worst possible time because he didn’t want her out of his sight.

Unsatisfied with just the old brown blanket, he leaned out and snatched the velvety red one that still hung across one of the mirrors outside his tent, bundling her in that too. Astarion had no idea if this would even help, but he was running out of things to try.

His eyes next caught on the old bottle of brandy he’d taken from a chest on a whim weeks ago at this point. Astarion uncapped it and snatched up the empty goblet he still had from Áine’s wine at the tieflings’ party, splashing some of the amber liquid into the vessel. “Bleeding fucking Hells, my left arm for some tea leaves,” he was muttering under his breath, rifling through a nearby bag even though he knew for certain he’d yet to come across any tea in their travels.

Áine watched him, his every movement half-coiled like a predator still aching to pounce, still dangerous despite its retreat. She hugged her knees to her chest, making herself take longer, deeper breaths to slow her tired lungs and racing heart. Her head swam from stress and a shortage of air, but she kept telling herself she was safe now. She’d have to do damage control in the morning, she expected, but for now, she was safe and just needed to calm down.

She heard him remark upon their lack of tea leaves and in his manic state he missed the way her expression softened. He still remembered that? That she’d said she found a warm tea with brandy to be comforting? She let the realization warm her chilled bones, his care as healing as any drink he could have brewed her, as he pressed the goblet of straight, lukewarm brandy into her hands.

Her darkened eyes flickered down to the light golden ripples of the drink. When had she said that again? Surely not the only time she could remember with any clarity—the very first day they’d met. When he’d remarked preferring a dry red as his go-to drink and she’d not yet had the context to understand he was making a joke about his vampirism. It made her smile ever so faintly now. That had been…so long ago. And he remembered. Even back then, when she’d been firmly under the impression that he hated her, he’d been listening.

Áine jolted when she heard him snarl toward the door at the faintest sound of footsteps outside. The footfalls had passed too closely to the tent for his liking and he’d immediately gone on the offensive as his instincts to protect himself and his mate had surged to the surface. “Astarion, it’s okay,” she murmured. “It just sounds like someone going to bed or going off to relieve themselves. Nothing dangerous.”

Astarion rounded on her for saying that, incredulous as he repeated her words. “‘Nothing dangerous?’ I truly don’t understand you sometimes, Áine,” he gritted. “How are you just okay after something like that?”

As soon as his words had left his lips in such upset, Astarion had chastised himself, dropping his head forward to rake a rough hand through his hair. Frustrated as he was, he wasn’t frustrated with her. He was worried for her. She needed to know that, not feel as though he was mad at her for what had happened.

She didn’t begrudge him his stressed response it seemed. He almost wished she would. “I’m not,” she whispered with patience, her fingertips pressing more firmly against the sides of the goblet as she took a tiny sip of the beverage. “But… I don’t think I’m worried anymore. Just…shaken up.”

Astarion looked down at Áine, bundled in his blankets with her barely nursed brandy in her hands. Whether it was how she sat, so curled in on herself, or that he simply wasn’t used to standing over her like this, she looked so heartbreakingly small to him now. So unbearably fragile when there were more times than he could count that “fragile” was the last word he would’ve ever chosen to describe her.

His expression bared without so much as an attempt to hide how helpless he felt, Astarion slowly slumped to his knees in front of her, his head hung in defeat. “I apologize for getting cross with you, I… I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what you need. Or how to fix this.” He finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, finding the amber windows to his favorite soul glassy with unshed tears. “You can have anything you want. Anything of mine. Of me. Just name it.”

Áine’s expression crumpled. “Astarion—”

It’s all I’m good for, he wanted to reassure her. I know. It’s okay. It’s okay if it’s you. Aloud, he said, “You can have as much or as little of me as you want. If it will help, I’ll do it.”

Áine stared into his eyes, her brows canting upward as a fluttered blink of her lashes made her tears spill over at last. He was set off by all this too and not just because he was worried for her—she could see the pain, the barely staved off dissociation in those gorgeous crimson eyes. Not nearly for the first time since she’d met him, since she’d known him, since she’d loved him—yes, she was tired of lying to herself about her own feelings—she wondered, Gods, what happened to you? How much did she still not know?

The bard set aside the goblet, reaching for Astarion’s hands. He deposited them without question into hers and let her guide him down to lie on his bedroll. Instinctively, his fingers reached for the laces of his shirt, ready to do whatever she asked of him, even if it hurt. He was utterly lost to her and that was finally spiraling into such a maelstrom of fact that he no longer felt an ounce of his former kneejerk denial. Áine could do almost anything to him now and he was convinced he’d forgive her in an instant. Was this trust?

Her warm fingers covered his, firmly stilling them against his collar. Astarion looked up at her and Áine saw that look in his eyes again—half-present, half-slowly slipping out to sea past where she thought she could reach him. She ran her thumbs against his knuckles like the smallest ritual, a tactile prayer. She pressed a kiss against the spot where his hands met before she guided them apart and found her place within the circle of his arms.

Astarion kept his arms hovered just above her while she situated herself, suddenly out of his depth again. His face heated with the palest flush of pink as she fitted herself perfectly against his body, nudging his legs apart just to entangle them with hers. He could feel her face burning against the fabric of his shirt when she finally settled her head against the curve of his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed against a lump in his throat, finally allowing his arms to come down to rest around her. Timidly at first and then more securely as he grew comfortable holding her. One of her beautifully content sighs graced his ears and, even though it took Astarion a moment to relax, he managed it as his somber eyes traced the starlight crown of her head. “Of course,” he whispered back, trying to make sense of what she could possibly see in him, how she could possibly want him.

Hesitantly, he raised a hand to her brilliant pearlescent halo and followed an instinct he had to stroke her hair. The way her prone body melted further against him rewarded his cautious venture and he marveled at her vulnerability, her warmth, and her trust in him. They were fitted against each other in every curve and he only wanted her closer, impossibly so. Until he could no longer find their separate starts and ends.

Astarion adjusted to rest his chin against the top of her head. “Are you alright, my sweet?” he asked and his voice was so gentle Áine’s eyes burned anew with tears. He felt her tense and, afraid both that he’d upset her and, selfishly once more, that she’d leave, he quickly said, “We needn’t talk if—”

“I’m fine,” she squeaked and he realized that she’d tensed to stifle a sob.

Astarion’s jaw set and he pulled her tightly against him. She molded willingly against him, burying her face into his neck. Her tears dripped like summer rain past his collar. He sighed and mumbled, “I should’ve killed him.”

“No, you shouldn’t’ve,” she asserted with a hiccup. Hidden from Astarion’s view, Áine’s features strained against the tears that came and she forced herself to inhale deeply, even as her breath shuddered. She could feel a headache forming as a dull pain behind her eyes.

“Please?” Astarion asked in a quiet whine and it caught her so off-guard that a small watery giggle escaped Áine’s aching throat. He cast a fond smile down at her, a smile she felt hints of when he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Leaning further into his natural inclinations, Astarion traced gentle patterns against Áine’s back until she was able to calm herself. He let his eyes close, meditating on her heart and her heat.

He was almost sure she’d dozed off when he heard her murmur, “It all brought back some unpleasant memories. That’s why…” She trailed off and he waited for her to collect herself and continue. “That’s why I fell apart so thoroughly, I think.”

Astarion dropped his head forward slightly, pulling her scent into his more or less useless lungs to ground himself and remind himself that she was more important than his anger. “Because I need you more than he does right now.” He skimmed his lips against her temple as he murmured back, “I can relate to that, for whatever it’s worth… Anything you’d like to talk about?”

Áine pursed her lips, bringing one of her hands up to her face to wipe away her tears. Was there anything she wanted to tell him? Anything that had been dredged up that would feel better left to the night air? Would it change anything, or make a difference? She’d never talked to someone about her past in any detail. “I’m not sure,” she admitted plainly. “I…don’t know if any of it’s worth bringing up.”

Astarion’s eyes opened into barely discernable slits to peer down at her. He couldn’t see her face, but he admired the sight of her wrapped up in him all the same. Besides that, he knew her well enough by now to not need a constant read on her expression to know at least somewhat how she felt. “It is up to you. But should you be inclined,” he mumbled, “I’m all pointy ears, my love.”

A small smile tugged at Áine’s lips. She sniffled again, but it was residual, and said, “In the shortest terms I can place it, I was a soldier once. Years ago. And mixed barracks are often not a kind place, especially among other drow.”

Astarion’s arms tightened around her just the slightest bit. His mind flashed back to the “kennels” wedged deep into the bowels of Cazador’s palace. The moldy, scratchy, tattered bunks. The smell of decaying rats and their old excrement amidst an array of other horrible, sour smells. Another deep inhale of her scent helped to center him, but barely.

“Your soldiering doesn’t surprise me from how many times I’ve seen you tear through a battlefield at this point,” he murmured. “Is the…barracks instance why you left?”

He felt her shake her head against his chest before she craned her head back to meet his eyes. Áine smiled softly when he took the opportunity to kiss the tip of her nose. “No,” she replied. “Those sorts of things were normal.”

Astarion scowled at the idea, suddenly wondering if anything he’d done or any of his advances had set something off for her in their time together. Without knowing, he could only be so upset with himself, but he still found himself half-asking, “...when you say ‘those sorts of things’?”

“The, uh, handsiness, I suppose,” she said carefully. More of that red-hot anger lanced through him. “The drunk handsiness specifically. Worse than what Gale did, but never the worst it could’ve been if that makes sense.”

While she spoke, Áine watched Astarion’s features, seeing a mingling of anger on her behalf and discomfort whenever his eyes drifted out of focus, taken by an unpleasant memory. She recognized that cocktail of emotions with ease as she often felt it, herself. With hesitation, he said, “I believe I understand what you mean.”

She was glad she didn’t need to go into further detail. She’d normalized it all to cope over the years, but the longer she’d spent away from her family and former comrades-in-arms, the more she’d realized just how fucked up the first 45 years or so of her life had been. It took getting away from it to see it at all. “It was more violent than anything,” she found herself admitting. “Just constant scraps and drunk fights. And training was no different.”

“It sounds dreadful, darling,” he informed her.

Her gaze shuttered slightly, remembering. “It was.”

“Why do it then?” he wondered. “Surely that sort of life wasn’t what you signed up for when you started, er, soldiering. You could hardly be blamed for—what?”

Áine had looked up at him while he spoke and she had a peculiar twinge to her expression. It took him a moment to realize it was sorrow. The sort with roots so deep they mixed with one’s marrow. “Astarion, I—” Her voice cracked, but she steeled herself. “I like to think I had a choice, but the older I get, the less I think I did.”

“Whatever could you mean?” he asked.

She shrugged, ducking her gaze to fix upon his shirt ties as she murmured, “It’s all I was born for.”

Astarion scoffed a little. “As in you felt it was your destiny?”

“No,” she said. “I mean it’s the only reason I was born.” Her whispering voice hardened. “I was conceived to serve and I did. Until I didn’t.”

“It’s all you’re good for, after all.”

Astarion’s throat constricted, searching the top of her bowed head as if it could provide as much context as the expression she hid from him. He didn’t know what to say to that. It hit too close to home and yet he had to acknowledge that he didn’t know how she felt in some ways at all. He’d had a life before he was nearly killed, before he began his next “life.” He could scarcely remember most of it, but he’d had it. And while it had been criminally short for the expected lifespan of a high elf, he couldn’t imagine being born into, raised into war.

His eyes traced the faint points of her ears, the crease between his brows deepening. A familiar recurring dread sent a wave of nausea through him to think about her mortality. Half-elves could live past 200 years of age, but it was so variable by blood. “It feels particularly wretched to have done that to you,” he murmured, “considering the time allowed to half-elves.”

“That’s why I’m half, too,” she murmured, stifling a yawn against the back of her hand. When she glanced up at him to find his features pinched in confusion, she explained simply, “Faster soldiers.”

So she’d been bred a half-elf because she’d mature faster than a full drow. A quicker workup for another body to be thrust into battle. For what? No reason could suffice, but he had to wonder what could’ve possibly been happening during his cyclical time suffering all means of torture and procuring prey for his master to have warranted such a cruel recruitment.

Bereft of anything else he could think to say, Astarion murmured, “...I’m sorry.”

Áine gave him a gentle goading look that he didn’t understand until she said in her little impression of his voice, “What could you have to be sorry for?”

He snorted and inclined his head. “Touché, my love.” Astarion traced his fingertips against the curve of her cheek, a complicated feeling curled in his chest like a sleeping cat. He realized gradually that it was compassion, only “complicated” for him. “Maybe it’s selfish of me, given what you’ve just told me,” he said slowly, “but I’m glad you are here.”

A tender smile traced her lips. “And I, you,” she murmured. “I suppose we can be selfish together.” More seriously, she added a quiet, “...Thank you. For listening.”

“Anytime,” Astarion said. He hesitated and pointed out to her and himself, “You would do the same for me. You have done the same for me.”

“Happily,” she said, sighing with contentment as she adjusted to settle back in against him and was rewarded by him drawing the blankets more snugly over them both and kissing her forehead. With sleep-bleary eyes, she glanced up at him and cautiously asked, “Are you alright?”

Astarion watched her affectionately as her body started to forcibly wind her down. “Me?” he asked with a teasing lilt to his voice as he gathered the woman lying against him even closer, finding that even that still wasn’t close enough. Would it ever be? “I’m in heaven, darling.”

Áine smiled and laughed a little at his flirting, but her features remained taut with seriousness. “You know what I mean,” she murmured. “Tonight set something off for you, too.”

He gave a noncommittal grumble. “Of course it did,” Astarion snipped, “I was worried for you. I still am.”

“And I appreciate that more than you know,” she reassured him. “But that’s not what I mean either.”

One of Astarion’s reflexive responses began to bubble up, but he contained it and he sighed instead. He sighed an awful lot for someone who had no functional use for breathing apart from a comfortable habit. “Not tonight, darling,” he said instead. “Soon. But not tonight.”

“Okay,” Áine said. “You’re okay though?”

“I am,” he reassured her. “I’ll be all the better if you rest.”

Áine yawned, accidentally emphasizing his point. “Tired of talking to me?” she teased him.

“Exceptionally,” he teased her back, smirking when she pressed a kiss under his jaw and returned her head to rest against his shoulder.

“Is this comfortable or should I move?” she asked, barely able to keep her eyes open at this point.

“I will be personally offended if you try to move,” he warned her, bringing a sleepy smirk to her face. It was a sight he memorized, craving to preserve it for an eternity at minimum.

“If I weren’t so tired, I’d do it just to see what happened,” she mumbled and he believed her. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

Astarion felt her heart slow as she slipped into sleep and he found himself studying her relaxed features for some time after. “Goodnight, sweet girl,” he murmured after she was already gone, simply musing over the turns his night—his existence even—had taken as he let himself bring his guard down just enough to let himself slip into a light meditation.

His first in centuries that was completely free of nightmarish memories and visions.

Their late night became morning with a swiftness that bordered on criminal and the pair were awakened too early for either of their likings.

Áine stirred with a groan, her hand finding purchase against soft cottony fabric and her fingertips feeling the smooth, cold plane of muscle beneath that brought her waking brain the recognition it needed. She ran her hand up until her hand cupped against the side of her bedmate’s neck and she was able to hook her arm back around him. She lifted her head and willed her eyes to open, greeted by a sight she was starting to find more beautiful than most sunrises.

Astarion, already alert, met her eyes and watched her wake with just the faintest line of tension in his otherwise softened expression. “Good morning,” he murmured, ever amused and bewitched by how wild her hair became once tossed by sleep. When she uttered another quieter grumble and tried unsuccessfully to blink the sleep from her eyes, Astarion chuckled. “Or perhaps not?”

“I slept like the dead,” she mumbled after using the arm she’d moved around him to pull herself up to kiss his cheek. “I think it may have killed me.”

He smirked. “Well, if you’ve passed, apparently you took me with you,” he remarked. If he were being honest, he would prefer it that way at the end of things. He couldn’t think of a better way to go than with her. Astarion inwardly balked at the hopelessly romantic thought, wondering who’d injected that into his mind. Worse than a tadpole, truly.

He felt Áine hum her acknowledgment of his statement against his throat between kisses and Astarion used his arm still wrapped beneath her to roll her into lying atop him. Undeterred by being transplanted, Áine nuzzled back into his neck, kissing a trail down to his collarbone and only lifting when her roving hands smoothed his shirt up off his torso. She held the offending fabric out of her way as she continued her winding trail down his stomach, taking her time with every languorous press and suck from her lips.

“And what are you getting up to?” Astarion asked, wincing slightly at how his voice broke a bit at the end, betraying the effect she had on him.

“Getting up to? No,” she murmured, her voice a sleepy, sensual husk that sent an immediate jolt through his body. “Going down…maybe. If you’ll humor me?”

Humor her? Hells, he’d get on his knees and beg her for the privilege. Astarion swallowed hard and nodded when her sleep-softened, hooded amber gaze flicked forward to check in with him. Áine’s mouth formed a faint, smug smile as she dropped it back down to his abdomen, her hands releasing the bunch of his shirt as she skimmed her fingertips down to his thighs, leaving tickling trails of heat in streaks down his stomach. He shivered, his hips instinctively canting upward as she gripped his thighs and settled herself between them.

“Are you always so frisky in the morning, my dear?” Astarion tried to tease her, but the pointed question came out so breathy he just felt a little embarrassed.

As far as Áine was concerned, his attempt to tease her had worked as just the sound of his oft-overcomposed voice trembling at the bare beginnings of her ministrations sent a clench through her inner thighs. She breathed in deep, composing herself as her fingertips moved deftly to make short work of his pants.

At least until they were interrupted by a not-distant-enough voice outside.

Áine’s hands stilled and she cocked her head ever so slightly to see if she’d imagined it. Or perhaps she’d misheard the word that sounded like her name. However, she heard it again and expelled the breath she’d just taken in with a frustrated sigh. Gale was asking after her next door, at her tent.

“Ignore him,” Astarion murmured severely and Áine may have found his ferocity amusing if she weren’t just as upset. Her fingers flexed against his waistband, wanting to keep going and ignore him as Astarion suggested.

And then again from the tent adjacent, “Áine, I’m sorry and I would love to explain in detail just how ashamed I am if you’d permit me to do so.” Gale’s voice was faintly muffled as if running a hand down his face.

Fainter still, closer to the fire, she suspected, Karlach’s voice joined the mix. “Gale, where’d you get the shiner? Drop a book on your face in bed?”

“Nothing so intelligent,” Gale sighed. “Am I being foolish, has she gone out scouting or something?”

Lae’zel’s voice emerged. “Astarion took her to his bed last night.” Something bristled in her tone and Áine couldn’t decide what it was until she heard Lae’zel add, “What is it exactly that you have to apologize for, Gale?”

Oh dear, Lae’zel was putting two and two together, which meant Áine had to brace to save the little rat’s life again.

“I’m going to kill him,” Astarion growled as Áine gave up on her morning misdeed, picked herself up off the tent floor, and straightened her clothes. “I was going to kill him before and now I’m going to kill him more slowly. Perhaps use one of his nasty little scrolls to bring him back so I can kill him a second time as well.”

Of all the bloody times for her to have to play party leader, it’d had to be this morning. This morning after he’d surfaced from a deep, satisfying reverie almost entirely free of the usual torment of painful flashbacks. He still struggled at times in their intimate moments, especially in the moments he felt out of control, regardless of whether or not he slipped into a script to cope. He didn’t feel in control this morning, but it didn’t feel bad either and, gods, he wanted to try at least! Even his usual anxieties about something being too much for him and her seeing him shut down seemed quieter than usual.

“There will be no killing the idiot wizard,” she declared in a whisper as she leaned down and captured his lips in a loving kiss. “As tempting as it may be. This wasn’t a one-time offer, don’t worry.”

“That’s hardly the point, my darling,” he grumbled, attempting to pull her back down with him to little avail. She laughed at his pouting expression. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re so unbearably sexy as you wake in the morning?”

“You could’ve found out for yourself, you know,” Áine pointed out with a smile as she ruffled his curls. She decided to needle him a little as she put her boots on. “Besides, you woke with me after our first night together. Was I not so interesting then?”

Plenty interesting, frighteningly so, he answered internally. “Of course you were,” Astarion assured her, glaring at her boots as if they were singlehandedly responsible for taking her from his tent. “You’re simply even more ‘interesting’ now.”

Áine smirked. “What can I say? I like to snuggle.”

“Duly noted,” Astarion purred. And before she could insinuate it, he added, “And not just for the carnal bonuses… Last night was nice.”

Her features softened. “Apart from what inspired it, yes. It really was,” she agreed. Áine dared to lean in for one more smooch and dodged with only seconds to spare when he meant to snatch her back and tumble her beneath him. “Nice try, my love.”

Astarion dramatically threw his arm across his eyes when she stood up, soon forcing himself up—and the rest of him down—as well to follow her out of his tent and into whatever fray they were soon to step into. No way in the Hells was he going to let her walk out and face Gale alone, even if she didn’t seem concerned about doing so.

The first thing he saw, with satisfaction, was the blackened state of Gale’s left eye.

The wizard looked over when Áine emerged with Astarion directly behind her, his hackles already up. Clearing his throat, Gale looked at Áine, his studious brow creating a deep fissure at its middle. “Far be it from me to ask for a thing from you, but may I have a word?” he asked.

Áine nodded, glancing down the path from their camp and suggesting, “We can step out to chat if you’d prefer,” allowing him to save face, at least for the time being.

To her surprise and slight concern as well, he politely refused her out. “No, I think it’s best that I hang myself out to dry in mixed company,” Gale said, punctuating his words with a small shake of his index finger. “Good for the ego, you see.”

But good for the vitality? Áine wondered despite not arguing. “Very well, if you think so.” She had to give him some measure of props for this, she supposed. It was a bold choice.

Astarion was less impressed, no surprise there. Not only was he quite sure that nothing Gale could say would calm his ire, but he was quietly rooting for the others now to be upset like he was. More than that, he wanted Áine to be properly angry at him for the position he’d put her in.

They gathered near the fire and Áine sat adjacent to where Gale parked himself, feeling Astarion plunk himself down directly beside her. It was comforting, but she was also wary of her lover being only too happy to make Gale’s right eye match his left.

Lae’zel remained nearby, her eyes already severe on Gale’s back, and Shadowheart lingered while she worked on her breakfast. Áine felt the cleric’s gaze scan her for any signs of injury, the other woman’s frame only relaxing faintly when she found none. Karlach and Wyll were already at the fire when the three of them sat down and Halsin sat nearby as well, still portioning out breakfast. Karlach and Wyll’s conversation went quiet as they glanced between Áine, Astarion, and Gale, and the only sounds left in camp save for the crackling of the fire were Scratch and the owlbear cub having a game of tag nearby. Well, Gale had his audience.

“Right, what’s happened?” Shadowheart finally asked, clearly uneasy.

Gale cringed at her tone, his jaw working as he tried to parse together what to say. Áine remained silent, watching him clam up and deciding that she’d leave them in awkward silence until he drummed up the courage he’d had just a moment ago upon suggesting this route.

Astarion wasn’t as patient. Furious ruby eyes shot to meet Shadowheart’s as he said, “Our little Gale decided not to keep his hands—and his mouth, I’d wager—to himself last night, Áine’s consent on the matter be damned.”

Áine paled. Oh dear.

The ladle Halsin was using clacked loudly against the pot where he dropped it, his expression horrified as he looked between Gale and Áine. “Oak Father preserve us,” he murmured, but his expression was tinged with tension as if trying to keep his wild shape in check.

The scrape of steel preceded Lae’zel’s response, a fierce glare twisting her features. “Chk, I knew it,” she muttered, her sword glittering dangerously as she freed it. “I demand clarification.”

Wyll went ashen next to Karlach, who crushed the bowl in her hand, remnants of porridge burning black when they hit her blazing flesh. Through clenched teeth, Karlach ground out, “Please tell me there’s a good explanation for this, Gale.”

Shadowheart’s expression twisted with rage, but her attention went first to Áine instead. “Are you alright?” she asked, her fingertips white with pressure as she clutched her dining implements. When Áine nodded, her gaze burned a hole into Gale. “Your destroyer Mystra help you if she weren’t.”

“Please… I—,” he paused to sigh, leaning down to bury his face in his hands and collect himself before he sat up straight and turned fully to face Áine. “There is no ‘good’ explanation for something like this. And it is no excuse that I was out of my mind with wine, fear, and self-pity.

“However, I cannot properly express how sorry I am, Áine. That it happened at all with anyone, but especially that it was you. You’ve done so much for me—you’ve aided me in my affliction, you’ve been a trusted friend, a trusted ally, and I’ve repaid you with this and a deadly lie.”

He drew in a deep breath and she heard it shudder in his next words. “I do not deserve to carry on with you on this journey. In fact, I deserve little more than to find a barren patch of Faerûn to end my sorry existence on,” he stated, his hands balled in his lap to keep them from shaking. “But if you would allow me, I will take every available opportunity from here on to be a better friend, a better travel companion, and a better ally. And I will endeavor to never again take your kindness and care for granted as I know I have so far.”

Gale gave a weakened sigh as he pushed an anxious hand through his chestnut locks. “And…for whatever it’s worth, nothing about what happened was premeditated,” he added. “Again, it fixes nothing, but I wanted you to know that.”

The silence sat for a long few minutes. All eyes shifted to Áine, awaiting her verdict, while hers stayed fastened on Gale. He felt her measure his worth and the weight of his words as if she, too, were imbued with magic. As if she could see through all that he was.

Slowly, Áine nodded. “So stay. And prove your intentions.”

Gale hastened to nod. “Thank you. I swear, I’ll never a—”

He fell silent when Áine raised a hand. “I require action, not more words,” she said, letting her hand fall back in her lap. “I’d rather not speak of it again.” Astarion could tell in the strain of her voice that she was still upset and just hiding it as flawlessly as ever.

A large hand lowered in front of her and offered her a bowl of porridge and fruit. Áine looked up and accepted the bowl from Halsin as he laid a brief, comforting hand against her hair. She thanked him and he nodded then turned away to reclaim his seat and continue his work by the fire.

Wyll had shifted closer to them from Astarion’s unoccupied side, reaching across him to touch Áine’s arm and ask quietly again if she was okay. When she said she was, he glanced toward Astarion to get confirmation. The vampire gave him a nod of confirmation and only then did Wyll relax, glancing at Karlach as she worked to temper her rage.

Lae’zel scoffed at the outcome, resheathing her blade. “I have killed gleefully and for far less,” she intoned, glaring down at Gale. “Do not test my might with a second misstep.”

Áine felt Astarion’s arm slip around her shoulders as he agreed with the githyanki. “I, too, have killed for much less,” he said. “Legally and otherwise.” She occasionally forgot he’d been a magistrate in another life.

“You know, normally I’d offer a quick fix to alleviate something like a black eye,” Shadowheart mused, inclining her head to get a good look at Gale’s face. “However, I think you could do with a little suffering for your transgressions. If you’re good, I might change my mind further down the road.”

Gale winced at his companions’ threats, nodding in acknowledgment to each as he wrung his hands. “It’s less damage than I deserved surely,” he agreed. “This will be left to fade in its own time.”

“Karlach, did you want a fresh bowl?” Halsin offered the blazing tiefling.

“Maybe here shortly,” Karlach replied, giving her chest a couple of pounds with the side of her fist. The iron chamber echoed in response. “I love you lot to bits, but you give me heartburn.”

Áine and the others broke the tension a few degrees by smiling at her semi-intentional joke. When the group had more or less dispersed to begin packing up camp, Astarion addressed Áine, his arm still draped around her and his fingertips tracing small circles on the back of her arm. “You,” he accused, “were way too soft on him.”

She shrugged, looking tired all over again as she popped the last raspberry from her breakfast bowl into her mouth. “I know,” she said. “I’m still upset, but I do understand where it came from. And nothing…okay, almost nothing, stop looking at me like that…actually happened.” Áine pursed her lips. “I’m just trying to let bygones be bygones, I suppose.”

Astarion glared down at her but still stroked her arm despite his agitation. “Dearest, just because ‘nothing happened’ does not mean you’re not due your rage.”

Áine laughed sharply. “If I ever really unleashed all my pent-up anger at everyone who ever wronged me, I’m not sure I’d be able to stop.”

Astarion gave her a considering look and responded with a shrug of his own. “I would personally pay admission to see it,” he said, his lingering impulse to have a few more swings at the wizard nearby only assuaged by the sweet sound of her laughter.

“Hardly a welcome party,” Wyll remarked as he cast a glance toward the iron portcullis that separated them currently from a raging minotaur.

It roared as it beat its horns against the grated gate while the stone atop the statue of Selûne towering above them in the outpost they were setting up camp within shot the beast with bolts of light. The bolts ceased the moment the creature fell dead to the ground, thin tendrils of smoke rising from its smoldered flesh.

Áine frowned and cast a vague gesture toward the dank yet somehow still beautiful caverns surrounding the manmade lookout they camped inside which looked like a pinprick in comparison to the vast cave system that was truly its own world beneath a world. “Welcome to the Underdark,” she said dispassionately. They’d made good time in getting there, only an extra two days added to their journey to backtrack.

“I don’t mean to make any assumptions, Áine,” Gale said, “but did you grow up down here?”

Astarion stiffened and watched Áine out of the corner of his eye to see how she reacted to the question about her younger years. Now that he knew what he knew, even these casual questions made him want to intervene in some way.

She took it in stride, not looking bothered at all, and he could only assume that she’d had to deal with friendly personal questions often enough that reaching back just far enough into her memories no longer came at much of a cost. “I didn’t,” she said. “This isn’t my first time down here, but I frequented Baldur’s Gate more than I ever frequented the Underdark.” It wasn’t a lie in the slightest, Áine self-congratulated. It just adjusted the conversation away from the natural next question, which would have been, “Oh, then where did you grow up?”

Shadowheart grimaced up at the Selûne statue and the light that shone from its gem. “Just how long are we intending to leave that infernal thing up there?” she asked.

“As long as it’s of use to us,” Áine asserted, nodding toward the felled minotaur. “When we get ready to leave, I’ll shoot it down or something. For now, while we rest, it’s a nice bit of insurance.”

“Already nostalgic for the sun, Astarion?” Lae’zel guessed when she spotted the vampire. Áine followed her gaze and found him frowning up at the pitch-black cavern ceilings.

Astarion sighed without looking at her. “Of course, I am,” he replied, sounding more inconvenienced than nostalgic. “Imagine being deprived of something for 200 years, getting it back, and then ending up in a place you can’t enjoy it for however long your reprieve lasts.”

To his surprise, he heard the gith grumble in agreement. “Understood,” she acquiesced. “It is only a matter of time before we surface again.” Was she trying to reassure him?

“Even then,” Halsin said with a forlorn expression, “it will be some time before the sun can touch us again. The shadow curse is…” He paused, considering his words. “Vicious.”

“What exactly is the shadow curse?” Wyll asked, his voice appropriately wary.

Suffocating, Áine answered silently. Dismal. Horrifying. She’d never grown accustomed to it in her lifetime there. After quick missives to the city or even to the Underdark, the lands surrounding Moonrise had always felt even more macabre. Darker. Hungrier. Because for all its darkness and strangeness, the Underdark wasn’t a cursed region. It was simply different as it was underground. In some ways, it was beautiful. The curse cloaking the lands they were heading toward was unnatural.

Halsin essentially answered with the same feelings she had, if not different words. Her eyes cast down toward the campfire Gale was working over to prepare them some dinner and, across from her a few paces away, Astarion watched the flames lick her amber irises.

He was a bit of a fool, but he wasn’t fool enough to not realize when two puzzle pieces fit together. Her reaction to Halsin’s first mention of this place and then everything she’d told him last night was piecing together. Astarion could be wrong, but he had a feeling that they were walking back into someplace she’d much sooner forget than return to. He knew next to nothing of her past ten years, only that she’d gotten away in that time to find her own path.

The entire idea was a conjecture. It could’ve been something entirely different that had driven her to panic at the idea of going to Moonrise. However, he couldn’t think of an alternative theory, so he let that one sit for now. Instead, despite knowing from the sun’s position just before their descent into this place that it would be nighttime aboveground, he glared toward the caves surrounding them as if he could drill skylights into them through the power of spite.

Astarion glanced over when he sensed someone coming to stand beside him, knowing instinctually that it wasn’t Áine based on the footfalls and presence alone. The last person he’d expected to see was Gale.

Their eyes met and Astarion’s narrowed with wary speculation. The black eye he’d given the wizard was starting to yellow at the edges as it healed. Shadowheart had finally offered to relieve him of it the previous evening, but he’d politely refused. Astarion also knew that Gale was capable of a simple healing spell that would absolve his bruising within seconds. Was he trying to prove something by keeping it?

Gale noticed Astarion scrutinizing his handiwork and gave a self-deprecating smirk. “It was a good punch,” the wizard commented, his pale companion stiffening when spoken to. “And well-deserved.”

“Indeed,” Astarion agreed, his suspicion at the interaction coating his words.

Gale sighed. “Thank you,” he said finally, “for putting me in my place. For helping her.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Astarion snapped.

“I know,” Gale murmured, his tone careful and placating. It did the opposite to Astarion’s mood. The wizard seemed to be thinking better of approaching in the first place, but he squared his shoulders a little instead of changing his mind. “I also want to offer my apologies—”

“You’re apologizing to the wrong person,” Astarion interrupted him, his tone dismissive.

“I’m not,” Gale said with the patience of a saint. “I’ve apologized to Áine almost every time I’ve dared to speak with her. She’s since told me I’m not allowed to say that I’m sorry more than once daily ‘if I absolutely must say it at all’.” A faint smirk crossed Astarion’s lips at the wizard’s recollection of Áine’s direct orders. That’s my girl. “All that to say… I broke your trust, too.”

Astarion scoffed. “Bold of you to assume you had it at all.”

“Indeed,” Gale said, nervously resting his hand against his neck. “Too bold. But if, on the off chance I did in the slightest and it is now broken, I am deeply sorry, Astarion. I wronged her most, but I wronged you as well. I don’t remember much from that night, but your relationship with her has never been a secret, and even blind-drunk it would be an obvious thing.”

The vampire shifted uncomfortably. “You speak as if you moved in on my territory.”

Bewildered, Gale said, “Well, of course. I did.”

“She is not mine,” Astarion murmured. “She is not beholden to me and can bed whomever she wants. That’s hardly the point of my upset.”

“I think I’ve misspoken, so let me try again,” Gale said, weighing his words over again. “I endangered her. Full stop. This is my greatest sin. Separate from that, I caused a shockwave of worry and hurt for everyone who cares about her.”

“Then why apologize specifically to me?” Astarion demanded defensively.

Gale’s pleading demeanor began to dissipate and he raised a brow at Astarion as if to ask if he was seriously asking that question of him. “Because, exclusive or not, you care about each other deeply,” he said.

“That’s too bold,” Astarion declared in a grumble.

To Astarion’s surprise and irritation, Gale just smiled. “It’s a good thing,” he stated in a gentler tone. “It’s not my place to press, so I won’t. Just know that I value you as part of the group and I hope to earn back—to earn your trust someday, despite probably not deserving it.” He glanced toward the portcullis as another minotaur slunk closely enough for the statue of Selûne to rear back to life. “I at least hope to not do anything that will warrant getting punched by you again.”

“Let’s start with that,” Astarion muttered, thrown off by the idea of someone wanting to prove themself to him.

“It’s a deal,” Gale agreed, palpable relief in his voice that simply served to confuse Astarion even more. “Right, well, I’ll cease bothering you. Thank you.”

Astarion gave a noncommittal grunt that sent Gale on his way. He still had an inkling to maim him, but his ire had slowly wound down over the last couple of days. He’d gone from a state of hypervigilance and practically hovering over Áine back to his normal level of watchfulness once it became clear that Gale meant what he’d promised her and seemed to be actively trying at every turn to redeem himself. Unlike the others though, Astarion was at best slow to forgive if he did at all and never to forget.

The sweetly low drone of a flute note drew his attention back to the center of camp, his scarlet stare fastening with a quiet reverence on the bard perched upon the statue’s massive base, a purloined wooden flute held enviably to her puckered lips. The flute was a bit clunkier but more ornate and unique than the one she’d been carrying when he’d met her, an indistinct instrument only special when she’d turned it into an accidental weapon.

A smirk traced his mouth at the memory, unexpectedly tender toward such a gory memory. If he were honest with himself, truly, that was what had started it for him. He absently wondered when it had begun for her as he watched her tease a melody from the unextraordinary hollow tube with little more than her breath and fingers. The purposeful chaining of notes swirled upward, drifting against the obsidian stone surrounding them and returning in gentle form.

Sometime in the “night”—what was night really when it was always so dark?—Astarion ended up near the fire, using its warmth in place of the sun which surely had to be coming up by now on the surface. He was also using a bit of the flickering light to once again mend a fray in his doublet embroidery despite hardly wearing it on their travels anymore, some of the lighter armor they’d found proving a better option as they went further and further into the thick of things. He was among the last awake, which wasn’t unusual, and it was just himself, Halsin, and Áine.

Halsin had been ever more restless the closer they got to another shot at entering the shadow-cursed lands he spoke of, but even he retired after another hour with a quiet “goodnight” bid to each of those remaining awake. Astarion nodded in response, focused on his stitching. He’d completed his fix on his past work and now worked on a new line on the left wrist of the doublet, trying his hand at embroidering a lilac design while he idly listened to Áine toying with her lute behind him.

She’d remained on her perch—he wasn’t completely sure she could get down from that height on her own without it being amusingly clumsy, which he was looking forward to—and forsaken the flute for the night when their party had begun to go off to bed in favor of a quieter instrument. Astarion only lifted his head from his work when he heard her speak.

No… Heard her sing.

He slowly turned his head to look at her, wondering if he even should. Had she forgotten he was still there with her? He had the answer to his question when their eyes met.

Hers were, not unexpectedly, already pooling with tears. A faint smirk played on her mouth as instead of whatever lyric to the song she meant to sing next, she sang in tune to the melody, “Will my performance infringe on your work?” to see if she was bothering him, he supposed. As if she were capable of that.

Astarion chuckled and shook his head in reply, just marveling at her for everything she was. Finding a way to check on him, even make him laugh a little, while she sat there also amused but in such sweet melancholy, he could feel a twinge of it himself by extension.

Her gaze dropped back down to her lute as she adjusted her fingertips and he meant to return to his embroidery, but he just couldn’t look away from her. She was an enchanting sight—long legs half-tucked under her and pressed against the stonework beneath her, starlight-colored tresses that put real constellations to shame, shuttered dark amber eyes that lightened like honey when the firelight caught them just right.

He rose to his feet as she slowly brought her song to a close, her voice ghosting against the walls surrounding them. As she sang through the repetitious last lines—”Never wanted to leave,”—Astarion took measured steps toward her. She watched his progress without faltering as he came close enough to place his hands neatly atop her knee, his chin resting against them as he held her gaze and his silence. He noticed that her skin, even in the faintest reaches of the Underdark’s bioluminescent glow, looked more radiant than ever.

Áine let her final note carry and fade and they simply gazed at each other for a long moment in mutual fascination. She didn’t even think to wipe her eyes until he shifted in their stillness, arranged his doublet over one arm, and then held his arms open for her. The bard smiled, her somber air feathering into obscurity for now, and carefully maneuvered her arms around his shoulders and her lute behind his back.

She let him pluck her off her stage, wrapping her legs around his waist as he supported her with one strong arm firmly slanted across her back, his hand spread to hold the underside of one of her thighs. Astarion kissed her hair as she rested her head against his shoulder and he walked them and their instruments of choice back to her tent tonight.

What they had couldn’t continue to spiral from its noxiously selfish origin point. He’d go mad if it did. He had no idea if he was capable of offering her something real—if he had anything of the sort left to give, if he’d ever had it in him in the first place—but he’d wanted to since that first night they’d spent together. Probably even longer than that if he allowed himself to be sincere.

And he supposed if he wanted an honest chance with her, he had to finally tell her the truth.

Next chapter: Chapter 16, "Full of Surprises"

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checkitoutmikey · 1 year

Text

Star snaps

The boys told you not to wander alone. But you just wouldn’t listen, huh?

Pairing: poly!lost boys x fem!reader

Warnings: blood, gore, near death experience, death, if you love Star you don’t wanna read this, no beta

You didn‘t know what was happening at first.

You were just walking down the beach with only the sound of crashing waves keeping you company. The boys left you a while ago to find a dinner so you had some time for yourself before they come back. Sure, it would be better to stay at Boardwalk, smarter too, but you just weren’t in the mood for carnival music and cloying scent of greesy food. David would give you an earful if he found out. Him and Dwayne always tell how dangerous this place is and to not leave Boardwalk by youself. It seems you were about to prove them right.

At first your brain couldn’t really comprehend why you are suddenly laying on the cold sand, staring at night sky. Then you realized someone was sitting on top of you, crushing you. The wavy brown hair and tinkling of glass beads clued you in.

„Star?“ you choked out in daze.

Her sharp fangs ripping into your throat sent a chill down your spine. She couldn’t be feeding on you, right? She hated the idea of becaming a vampire so why was she drinking your blood? You could hear the sound with discerning clarity. Gulp, gulp, gulp.

You pushed your hands against her shoulders to try and get her off but that only seemed to enrage her. She pressed herself closer to your body. Her palm pushed at your chest so hard you heard something crack. That’s when the true fear sat in.

„Star. Come on, calm down,“ you whispered. Trying to stay cool under the assault of deep seated pain that blossom in you.

She growled viciously and sank het teeth even deeper into your tender neck. With every passing second you could feel the panic rising as you heartbeat became louder and louder in your ears. Flight or fight instinct was a bitch when you knew neither would help in your current situation.

„Please. Star, you don’t wanna do this. Star!“

Dizziness started to set in. Was this it? Would you die like this? What about the boys? Would they be angry? At you? Star? Who would they really blame for this whole mess? You shouldn’t be by yourself, that was on you. And Star couldn’t help her urges. Would they forgive her? Would-

***

David couldn’t remember the last time he panicked. Truly panicked. That primal unhinged emotion that made your heart race and brain shut down.

He just arrived at the Boardwalk with his pack in tow just to find you absent. They left you in front of the ice cream place but you weren’t there. He was about to order his boys to spread out and check your usual spots when he got a whiff of something sweet. Blood. Your blood.

Marko was the first one to snap out of his daze and bolted the way your scent was coming from with the rest of his brothers following close. Dwayne had to grab him, pull him back against his chest to keep him from pouncing on Star and making the whole thing worse. It would help no one to have two viscious vampires fighting so close to you. Paul stayed a bit behind. He whimpered at the sight of your mangled body, it made him sick.

David didn’t even properly register the scene infront of him before he grabbed Star by her hair. He took care not to move her too much, that would just damage you more.

„Star. Let go. Slowly,“ he growled, pushing her head a bit closer to your neck to unhook her fangs gently. The woman snarled in response. She tried to push back but he was like an immovable wall. „Star,“ he repeated and the threat was clear in his voice.

„Fuck! Just let her go Star!“ Marko trashed in Dwayne’s hold. Glowing yellow eyes staring murderously at the half vampire. He would kill her. If David wouldn’t do it, Marko will gladly tear her apart himself.

The seconds tciked by and David knew their time was running out. You were pale and unresponsive. Heartbeat alarmingly slow. While holding Star with one hand he sneaked the other around her jaw and broke it which earned him a pained scream from the women. Paul was there in a flash. He kept her hands away from you just in case she tried to fight for her meal. David moved her head upwards to pull her fangs from your flesh as gently as possible. As soon as she was off of you, he threw her down the beach. In that moment Dwayne released Marko and all hell broke loose. Marko went after Star like rage filled beast that was left out of it’s cage. „Don’t kill her,“ was all Dwayne had to offer before moving closer to you.

Dwayne dropped to his knees next to you but, much like Paul, was too afraid to even touch you. Paul was just standing close by, frantic and teary eyed. He was hugging himself like some scared child. „Are we really doing this?“ he asked but the answer was pretty clear. David gently cupped your face with his hands. By this point you were barely breathing. No way you could speak, much less give consent but that didn’t matter. Even if you didn’t want them to turn you, they would. David would choose pissed off vampire you before dead you any night.

„Marko! Get that bitch over here!“ David didn’t even look over to make sure Marko was doing as he was told and instead he hastily sliced his wrist to feed you his blood. What was presented to him seconds later could barely be described as a person but none of them seemed to care. Star deserved this. She refused to change, she refused to feed safely and now she had to pay for her mistakes. Marko didn’t show her mercy. In his mind she deserved none. By now her face was just a pulp of flesh with blood caked on top of it with matted hair sticking to it in clumps. There was a time when they would welcome her to the family but that sentiment died the moment she laid her claws on you.

Dwayne took over David’s position and gently placed your head on his lap to make it easier for you to swallow the blood. He smoothed down your hair, running his fingers through it to help you calm down as much as he was trying to comfort himself.

Paul was full on sobbing now but kept himself away from the scene. The smell of your blood, the gore, the smell of death drawing closer was getting for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this scared. The pure need to help but not knowing how was eating him from the inside. But David would fix this. He had to.

Marko moved closer to his taller brother. He wanted to support him but was too enraged to do anything useful. All that was running through his had were images of tearing the bitch apart. Hurting her some more but he knew she was need for your change. Fitting punishment for her transgression. She will die so you could live. It was fair.

David simply broke Star’s arms so she wouldn’t do anymore damage and pushed her throat close to your mouth. „Come on, love. Drink up. Be one of us.“

#how do you people come up with titles?#ginger snaps? really En?#tlb #the lost boys #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #the lost boys x reader #Enaris brain goes brrrrrr

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multifandommilfs · 5 months

Text

Sickness and Safety

Pairing: Alex Blake x reader

Wc: 1445

Summary: you worry about Alex and the team catches on

masterlist | comment, reblog, drop an ask! Feedbacks are greatly adored!

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Something set off your senses the moment you stepped out of the SUV and onto the pathway of the house leading to the crime scene. The victim was dumped with blatant disregard.

Usually you wouldn't have felt this apprehensive with Garcia's preamble and the preliminary report following, but it was a "time is of the essence" case with a woman dead and another reported missing just a mere half an hour ago, so everything was a surprise, unknown.

With your straight line of vision to the crime scene, the brightly yellow markers against the varnished steps perforated your view more than anything else, silhouettes of police officers littering about. You felt your throat tighten at the clump of brunette splayed beneath them, the vic. It's been long since a victim pulled a reminiscence out of you.

You forced a cough, blinking, letting air back into your throat. It must've been the jetlag getting to you, and you knew you weren't the only one. They were all more grumpy than usual, especially Hotch. You could feel his frown beside you without having to look at him.

"Any news from Garcia?" JJ asked, approaching Hotch who now took your lead in the front, his towering frame effectively obscuring you from being observed by the profiler or in this case, multitudes of them. You knew there wasn't much to hide with them despite the lengths you'd go to suppress your anxiety.

"Not yet." His voice gruff, certifying his jetlag. Speak of the devil. His cell phone beeped.

"What is it Garcia?" But you trailed off the conversation, the paranoia in you wanting to prove it wasn't Blake was enough for you to tunnel vision the vic. Missing JJ's regardful gaze on you as you strode past her with a racing heart and clammy hands, sweat already pervading your shirt.

Reid and Morgan withdrew from the crime scene the moment you approached, joining in on Garcia's "on the spot" briefing. Morgan doing a double take when he saw you walk in the opposite direction.

JJ watched as you knelt down by the victim's head who was face down, a spatter of brown blood on the concrete before Morgan followed her line of sight out of curiosity, seeing you crossing to another angle for a better view. What were you trying to confirm?

"Why isn't she listening to this?" His voice was only for JJ to hear, below Garcia's humour and preamble about the case. JJ squinted her eyes before glancing at Morgan, taking a pause before she replied. "Pretty sure it's about Blake."

_______

Your relationship had been established years before Alex joined the BAU. It completely off-centered your world when the news came to you, however your work lives will remain strictly professional, so it was an agreement to keep your relationship on the down low.

A single slip-up would let months of work out the bag and down the drain. It was a fact that both of you knew, especially when you were encompassed by profilers.

Secrets were never meant to be kept.

Quick yet agonizing, the bullet zipped through the air and perforated her shoulder. The Unsub slammed into the ground a second too late. It was just too bad he got shot in the head, you would've enjoyed his incarceration.

"I'm fine." Blake said to the paramedics. Then again to JJ. And again to Hotch and David. Again to Morgan and Reid that by the end of it, she was doubting her own answer and you were struggling to hold back your anxiety, the urge to let your concerns explode out in the open and sacrifice months of secrecy.

You forced yourself into the SUV, eyes lingering on her frame behind the tinted windows.

JJ caught something. Or the lack of something: you didn't check up on Blake and Reid's theory proved JJ's suspicions right.

"Sometimes when people want others to believe something, they unintentionally overcompensate in another area." Reid replied to JJ about an Unsub before JJ snapped her fingers, 180-ing the conversation.

"She overcompensated her insouciance. She didn't even look in Blake's direction after the incident. They're in a relationship, paranoid that we would find out about it."

"Blake and the Unsub?" Reid didn't catch up and made an incredulous expression bordering on disgust.

"No! Them." JJ emphasized, and with her smug look alone, Reid understood, his mouth dropping ajar. "Oh."

Which was your expression as well when you figured out the BAU's hottest, steamiest gossip from Garcia.

You lucked out and with Garcia's prying, you fessed up, admitting to the gossip about your relationship. You didn't even have to mastermind any awkward grand plan to announce it, Garcia did all the work for you. The momentousness of it all died down in a few minutes, per you and Blake's request. Your work life remained strictly professional.

_________

"Well sir, blondes definitely get the Unsub going because Marley Jones is the woman you're ID-ing right now and Kelly Worth is the one reported missing. Their twinsies point? Having long wavy shiny blonde hair and I am now questioning the presence of the God of Unfair."

"Garcia, check if they've been to a salon the month following up to their kidnapping." Hotch requested before glancing in the direction of the murmurs. Behind JJ and Morgan, your crouching frame above the victim caught his eye.

A frown split the skin between his brows, but he didn't have time to think before Garcia affirmed his theory and the team halved. You, JJ and Morgan were heading to the second crime scene while Reid, Rossi and Hotch tracked down the hair salon.

The second victim's hair had the same style, shade and texture. You cringed, heart leaping to your throat. You remembered Blake's shoulder, bloody and bleeding. The air stuffed up in your windpipe. The red and blue whining of the ambulance. The compulsion to call up Alex right now was brewing at your fingertips. Your fingers gripped your cellphone.

"Is there anything significant about this girl?" Just how much she looks like Alex. You wanted to say. God, you crave her right now. If you hadn't shoved her into mandatory leave with her simmering fever, you wouldn't be craving for her safety because she would be walking around and scrutinizing all the right details and making deductions with Reid. You wouldn't have felt so anxious right now if you could run back to Virginia and ensure her safe and sound.

"Hello?" JJ waved a hand in front of your face and you jerked, eliciting Morgan's attention.

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you okay?" Her words made you shove your hands into your pockets as you made an assuring noise, rounding the victim and seeing yourself in those blank, unfocused gazes. It looks so much like her. It could be hers. It could be. It is.

A flash of bloody red.

The face warped. You flinched back, slamming right into Morgan's chest, breathing ragged as you blinked the vision out of your mind, clenching your jaw repeatedly.

"Hey, it's alright, it's alright, what's going on?" Morgan placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression ladened with seriousness and apprehension. You looked at JJ. Her brows furrowed.

"It's Alex isn't it?" It was an educated guess and you nodded, pressing the oncoming tears back into your eyes with your thumb and forefinger.

"Call Hotch, tell him to meet back at Quantico." Morgan told JJ who seconded him, moving into action.

"What? What about the victim, the profile? The case isn't done."

"Don't you worry, we got it covered. But right now, we gotta get you home to your missus." He made suggestive eyebrows, winking and instantly flooded you with relief, hooking a smile up your lips. He does that somehow. You just couldn't be more grateful for your team.

_________

The key card slipped into the slit of the door and it clicked open. The air-conditioned room smelled luxurious and well-lived; add to it a hint of freshly printed paperwork, no one could tell anyone was nursing the flu. You walked through the threshold. And there she was, splayed across the couch, wrapped in woolen sweaters and scarves, a crossword puzzle propped on her chest, reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

"Hi." You smiled softly, eyes twinkling with sudden emotion as you walked to the open side of the couch. She mirrored your expression before taking your hand, a warm thumb stroking your skin as you held her back.

"I'm safe." She told you and you couldn't have smiled wider, tears wobbling within the frame of your eyes. You were really, really grateful for your friends.

"I know it now."

#alex blake angst #alex blake fluff #alex blake x reader #alex blake imagine #bau x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #alex blake

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littlemisspascal · 7 months

Text

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet in Time

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Rating: T

Warnings: Pokémon au (but not 100% true to canon, just elements + some characters), time skips in non-linear manner, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, storms, language, Reader and Frankie are same age + grow up together, high school au ish(?), inspired by 500 Days of Summer + Song of Achilles' 'name one hero who was happy' scene + this quote by photographer David Alan Harvey:

"Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels like."

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is mentioned to have hair, a career, wear a dress (no description), and eat sandwiches

Author Note: I've been wanting to write a Pokémon au for a long, long, long time and I've also been wanting to write a non-linear fic for a long, long, long time as well so this is the result of both those wants combining forces *awkwardly throws it into the universe* It is what it is.

-- all moodboard photos found on pinterest

-- shinx, luxio, luxray // pikachu photo references

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me through my breakdowns 💜

Day 1,695

Luxray’s a silent wall of black and blue fur for your body to brace against as the sky bleeds a deep shade of orange, and you know he knows. Doesn’t even have to use his x-ray vision to confirm what’s etched into every line of your expression. Anguish—when it’s real and unbearable and deeply-rooted—is impossible to hide. Everyone who looks at you will know.

Everyone except the one pair of brown eyes that’ll never look your way again.

“I’m such an idiot,” you say quietly, and it’s embarrassing how thick the lump of emotion is lodged in your throat. You wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “So damn stupid.”

Luxray lets out a low growl, chiding in nature, as if to say don’t talk shit about yourself.

“He was never going to stay,” you continue, ignoring the vibration rattling your bones. “But I got my hopes up anyways. What we’ve accomplished these last few weeks together, I thought there was a chance…a slim one, you know? That maybe–maybe we could actually stick together this time.”

And you don’t realize you’re crying until Luxray’s twisting his head to nuzzle against your temple, encouraging you to bury your face into the thick fur along his chest and shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut, you can almost block out the all-encompassing numbness emanating from the cavity your heart used to reside in.

“He’s gone…” you choke out through sobs, grabbing fistfuls of Luxray’s inky black mane. “And I think it’s permanent this time.”

Day 1

The first day of classes at Uva Academy is a whirlwind of meeting teachers, racing from one floor to the next against the clock, and making sure you never lose track of Shinx in the chaos of it all, but when the last bell finally rings, you feel no sting of regret about coming here.

You split a sandwich with Shinx underneath a tree in the school courtyard, brain buzzing with the overload of information absorbed throughout the day. Maybe signing up for a full schedule of classes was a bit excessive, but unlike most of your fellow students who have some semblance of a plan for their futures your next steps are plagued with uncertainty. There are so many paths one can take with their Pokémon—the course of a Trainer, a Coordinator, a Professor, a Ranger, the list goes on and on—you don’t know which direction to take.

When you lock eyes with a boy with brown eyes across the yard, there’s nothing special about the moment. No sparks, no forgetting how to breathe. He’s just a boy with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“I saw you in Mr. Jacq’s class,” he says in lieu of a greeting when he draws closer, purple Academy tie loose and crooked around his neck. Recognition stirs in the back of your mind, a flash of dark brown curls towards the back of the room spotted before taking your seat at the front.

Actually, now that you think about it…

“Weren’t you in Ms. Dendra’s class too?” you wonder, passing the last bite of sandwich to Shinx, his little body wiggling eagerly. “And Ms. Raifort’s…?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t really know what I want to do yet.” He scuffs at the ground with his shoe, grin turning a bit crooked at the corner, strangely endearing in its awkwardness. “I figure life’s short, you know? Why not try as many things as you can when you have the chance?”

“Right,” you agree, finding yourself smiling back. “Nothing wrong with making memories.”

"I'm Frankie, by the way."

“Nice to meet you Frankie,” you say, shaking his hand. It’s warm in your grip, firm and secure, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

And so it starts after that—the counting of days. Days when you see him in class, when he smiles at you, when he does homework with you in the library, when he and Pikachu have a battle against you and Shinx–winner buys lunch. It’s a subconscious quirk you keep to yourself. Even after he’s gone, chasing after legends to the far corners of the earth, you still continue counting days.

Days when he crosses your mind. Days when you leave the door unlocked in case he stops by. Days when you swear you catch a whiff of his citrus shampoo on the pillowcase despite the impossibility of it.

There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Day 183

“I want my name in one of these books,” he tells you, Ms. Raifort’s assigned reading on the lost explorers of Area Zero spread out in front of him.

You look up from the text, fatalities and disaster and other sharp words with teeth still swimming in your head. “It won’t be easy.”

You’ve only known him six months—long enough to be certain you’ll never meet anyone else like him, but too short to realize the hidden depths of his stubborn ambition.

“No,” he agrees, mouth curling up at the corner, “but it’ll be one hell of a story.”

Day 8

The air is heavy with the sharp, pungent scent of ozone as thunder rumbles overhead. You take in the ominous black clouds, adjusting the hood of your yellow coat to better defend your hair against the pattering raindrops. Doesn’t do much to ward off the chill of the wind though.

Shinx is darting about the meadow in zigzagging lines, wet to the bone and having a blast. Pikachu follows at his heels, electricity sparking from the red circles of her cheeks before fizzling out harmlessly. If there’s any rules to this game they’re playing, you haven’t a clue. Still, their obvious excitement over the weather has you smiling despite the numbness of your toes in soggy shoes.

To your left, Frankie watches the pair of Pokémon nimbly leap over a puddle, studying their graceful movements. His dark hair is flattened against his head, curls beaten into submission, but there’s something in his eyes, a sort of wistfulness that snags your attention like a moth to a flame.

A bolt of lightning burns a gleaming white strip across the gloomy sky, halting Shinx and Pikachu’s play as they elicit squeaks of awe, but you can’t stop looking at Frankie. He’s grinning now, a wide and ecstatic thing with his head tipped back, rain streaming down his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Seeing one of nature’s tantrums,” he says, voice low and wonderstruck. “My mother always said it takes someone extra special to train those who can summon such raw, uncontrollable power on cue.”

You’ve never thought of yourself as someone unusual or remarkable. Looking at him though, soaked and shivering and absolutely beaming, you think if anyone’s extra special in this world it’s him.

Day 1,987

It’s a long time before you can look through photos of him without a wound violently tearing open in your chest. Longer still before you can hear his voice on the phone. He calls more often these days, mostly because you’re knee-deep in another mystery and only a little because he misses you, and that’s okay. You can smile at his jokes and it feels real. You can love him and know better than to be in love with him.

You stay busy. You photograph every inch of the nature park on Florio, even convince Professor Mirror to let you take the NEO-ONE to some of Lental’s other islands for further research. You spend hours clicking through photos on your computer, frowning at blurry ones, printing some out for the Professor to take a closer look at as well as a few for your own personal collection of albums.

Your coworker isn’t an intimidating figure by any means, but something about watching him study and scrutinize your pictures never fails to make your hands shake and feet shuffle. Even after all these months, practically living inside each other’s pockets at the Laboratory of Ecology and Natural Sciences (or L.E.N.S. as the Professor affectionately calls it), studying the Illumina phenomenon and all its effects, there’s a part of you still terrified it could all come crashing down.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Professor Mirror tells you, glaring disapprovingly over the frames of his glasses. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that remark and it won’t be the last either.

“More analyzing the photos and less analyzing me please,” you reply, nodding your head at the small stack in his hands.

He grumbles under his breath, but resumes evaluating the latest shots of your walk along Blushing Beach. There are Wingulls performing loops in the air, an Exeggutor snoozing beneath a palm tree, the splashings of a pair of Corsola playing in the waves. Luxray looking at the contents of a tide pool. A Pikachu eating a fluffruit after you’d scared her by your loud gasp, mistaking her for another of her kind. You don’t mention that tidbit to your coworker though.

That should be the last one, except then Professor Mirror’s letting out a surprised little hum, holding up a photo you never intended anyone else to ever see. Not even the subject. Especially not the subject.

It’s from your sophomore year at Uva Academy. You would call the picture ugly, edges a bit hazy due to your unsteady hands, still learning the tips and tricks of photography, except it’s Frankie. And he’s looking at you behind the lens with a fondness so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, holding a newly evolved Luxio to his chest, with windswept curls your fingers will always long to tame.

You should’ve thrown it out a long time ago. The man in the photo isn’t the same man who will call you later tonight from half a world away just to ask how your day went and if you’re willing to admit you need his help with the Illumina project. But you’ve always been too sentimental for your own good, holding onto things until there are only scraps left, slipping through the gaps of your fingers.

At the very least, you shouldn’t have reorganized your albums so close to your work station.

After what feels like the longest stretch of silence of your life, Professor Mirror finally says, carefully neutral as if wary of provoking a negative reaction, “Someone special, I presume?”

“It’s complicated,” is all you offer in response, snatching the picture back and telling yourself the ache behind your ribcage is a side effect of a papercut.

Day 389

Uva Academy teaches you battle strategies, the effects of Berries and how to better understand your Pokémon amongst other vital lessons to prepare students for a career outside the ancient brick walls and dorm rooms.

It’s Frankie who teaches you how to find beauty in thunderstorms, how to enjoy each day like it’s your last, how to dream a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder—or maybe that’s something you teach each other.

On the weekends you head into the city center together, trying different eateries and watching fellow students challenge each other on the plaza battle court. Afterwards you’ll walk along the cobblestone streets side by side, sometimes discussing classwork or pointing out items in shop windows, but usually the time is spent in companionable silence. Just sharing the same space.

You buy your first camera acting on pure impulse, drawn to it inexplicably and handing over money to the salesman in a matter of minutes. It fits in the palm of your hand, heavy and solid, buttons and knobs staring back at you, waiting to be pressed and manipulated. For the first ten or so minutes of ownership, you simply hold onto the device, studying its shape, its lens, fingertips running over the bumps and grooves.

“Well?” Frankie prompts, gentle voice breaking the silence, brown eyes flicking between your face and the camera. Pikachu echoes the question with a tiny pika?, sensing the fragility of the moment.

“I don’t know what to do,” you answer, shoulders curling with self-consciousness. At your feet, Shinx sits on your shoe and rubs his cheek against your leg comfortingly.

“Well,” he hums, a teasing smile growing on his lips as he presses a button. “Maybe start with turning it on first.”

“Shut up.” You swat at him, but there’s no real heat. “I meant, I don’t know what to take a photo of.”

“It doesn’t matter what the sight is,” Frankie tells you, grabbing hold of your hands and raising them up until the camera’s in front of your face. He steps back and you peek at him through the viewfinder, watching as he spreads his arms out wide with Pikachu still happily perched on his shoulder. “What’s important is how it makes you feel.”

You take a breath, taking a moment to hold the shutter button until it focuses, and then take the photo. No count down, no say cheese!—you simply heed his advice, focusing on how it makes you feel.

The preview screen asks if you’d like to keep the picture or delete it. Your thumb hovers over the buttons.

Focused on the way Frankie’s hair has a golden aura in the light, how Pikachu’s nose scrunches when she’s grinning, you nearly jump out of your skin when he’s suddenly at your side again, wondering, “What do I make you feel, shutterbug?”

Like I’m falling and flying at the same time, you think, quick and startling. A bolt of lightning amongst storm clouds.

You press save.

“Like spending a hundred bucks wasn’t a total mistake.”

Day 448

You take a seat in the cafeteria across from Yovanna and her Sylveon. You’re lucky she shares the same lunch hour as you. Even more lucky she likes you enough to also share her space. Her knack for securing a table each day despite the scrambling rush of hungry students is a gift from the gods. Or maybe it’s a perk of being the president of the Academy’s student council.

“You haven’t stopped smiling for days.” She points with her fork at your grin, a giddy, bubbly thing not even Ms. Tyme’s pop quiz last period could stifle. “Spill it. Who’re you crushing on? Is he a student here? You got a picture?”

“Not with me.” It’s a lie, ever since you bought your camera it’s been glued to your person and there’s always at least one picture of him stored within the device’s gallery of Luxio shots and library aesthetic and other things that make you happy. “He is a student here though.”

Yovanna drops her fork onto her plate, jostling the pieces of fruit waiting to be eaten. Sylveon catches a flying strawberry midair by jumping in her seat and landing neatly on four paws like it’s a regular trick to perform. “Shut up. It’s him, isn’t it?”

You feed Luxio a pickle off your sandwich, neither confirming nor denying.

But your grin does get a little bit impossibly wider.

“Aw man, I owe Santi twenty bucks now.”

Your eyes narrow shrewdly. “Did you seriously make a bet?”

“You two are joined at the hip, of course I did.” Yovanna leans back in her chair, arms behind her head, not a single hint of shame for her actions. “Santi said you’d realize you had feelings for him before winter break. I thought it’d take you until the end of the semester ‘cause you’ve got the self-awareness of a piece of concrete most days.”

“Rude.” She dodges the crumpled napkin you toss at her with a laugh.

“Hey, this is a good development. Now you just gotta keep the momentum going and tell him how you feel. You’re perfect for each other.”

Tucking back into her meal, she misses the brief slip in your smile.

“Yeah.”

Day 8

Ms. Dendra is the only teacher without a classroom, preferring to use the battlefield in the middle of the courtyard for her lessons rather than a whiteboard. She weaves along the line of students with her Medicham, offering suggestions and correcting forms to make the most out of their Pokémons’ moves. You keep one eye on her drawing steadily closer and one on Shinx pawing at the ground, charging up electricity in his forelegs. He still hasn’t mastered thunder shock yet, maybe Ms. Dendra can–

“Storm’s coming tonight,” a voice drawls behind you, a curious blend of casual and enthusiastic.

You turn around, finding Frankie standing there looking up at the sky. The dark gray clouds do seem indicative of bad weather, now that he’s mentioned it. Rain is definitely on its way.

And then he asks, a little sudden, “You ever seen one up close?”

A strange question. Still, you think about it, searching your childhood. All you remember are memories of cowering under the blankets in your bed and playing in puddles the next morning when the monstrous rumbling and harsh flashes had long passed. You’ve seen rain up close, felt the drops on your skin, inhaled the scent of petrichor deep into your lungs. But storms?

“No,” you shake your head, shivering as the temperature seems to drop. “Never.”

He hums, a bland note that could mean anything. At your feet, Shinx and Pikachu sit and stare at each other, little sparks of blue and yellow static crackling in the air between them like morse code.

“No wonder you’re having trouble with your partner. Can’t teach him about electricity when you’ve never seen it in action.”

“That’s not how training works,” you retort defensively. “Also storms aren’t exactly harmless, in case you forgot. They’re loud and dangerous and—”

“Beautiful,” Frankie cuts in with such firm conviction you reel back in surprise. “Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.” A pause follows, and you hate the smirk that grows on his face, how it taunts you, how it makes his eyes glitter with mischief. “Or maybe not. I could be lying. Only one way to find out for sure.”

A raindrop lands on your cheek. Then another on your arm. And another on your nose. It’s pouring now. Students are complaining about their lesson being interrupted and Ms. Dendra’s shouting for everyone to head back inside. Through it all your eyes remain locked in an intense staring match, neither one willing to surrender.

“Fine,” you reply with a sharp jerk of your chin. “Show me.”

Day 1,448

Your internship with Professor Oak is—good. It’s the start of a brand new chapter in your life, except the last chapter ended on a terrible note and the upcoming pages are terrifyingly blank if you fail to impress your new boss, so. Yeah.

You get along with the Professor’s other intern, a local boy named Will. He teaches you how to drive the ZERO-ONE around the sanctuary. You spend hours out on the trails, memorizing everything about the wild Pokémon who call the island home. You enjoy the assignments Professor Oak gives you, staying busy, filling up albums with photos and journals with research notes.

But when it’s quiet, when you’re staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come…you’ve never felt more lonely in your life. Even with Luxray within reach, loyal and constant, there’s a persistent ache you can’t shake. A loose thread dangling in your mind, tormenting you, and you know if you were to tug on it exactly where it would lead.

Everything leads back to him.

Frankie hasn’t tried to call you. Hasn’t had any contact with you since graduation. Not even a postcard from whatever corner of the world he’s trying to accomplish his dreams.

You haven’t tried to call him either. And yes, it’s true communication is a two-way street, but he’s the one who left and took your heart with him. Why should you give him more of yourself? You hate yourself for even contemplating picking up the phone.

You hate yourself even more for wondering what your relationship would’ve been like if you’d gone with him. If it’d hurt less to just have stayed friends. If you’d been better off never knowing him at all. If, if, if…

Day 485

The problem is, you think your feelings for Frankie are just a little bit stronger than a crush. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Or at least halfway there.

As much as you hate to admit it, Yovanna wasn’t wrong saying you have the self-awareness of a piece of cement. You don’t know for certain if the fluttery Butterfree sensation in your stomach or galloping heartbeat whenever Frankie smiles at you is love. But you are certain he’s gotten under your skin, triggering as many irritations as he is encouraging new ways of growth. You’re a better person, you think, simply by knowing him.

You also think it’s actually kind of scary to imagine something so strong and life-transforming could be anything else but love. Regardless, you hope it stays with you forever. This precious, nameless thing.

It won’t be until many days later—until you know what it’s like to kiss him, and hold his face between your palms, the heat of his breath tingling against your skin; until he’s fluent in myths and legends and fables, swearing he’ll be the one to make them truths and facts and verities; until you can’t picture a future without him in it, not a happy one, at least—you’ll realize you do love him. And he loves you, too, as it turns out.

But nothing lasts forever. Someone’s always got to be the first to let go.

Day 1,375

You receive an offer for an internship with Professor Oak in Pallet Town to help him complete his Pokémon Report by taking photos on a nearby island sanctuary. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime to work with such an esteemed researcher, but thinking about graduation creeping up, about leaving behind this realm of familiarity now that you’ve learned everything Uva Academy has to teach, it’s—moving forward is harder than you anticipate.

It doesn’t help that Frankie's becoming more and more restless, unable to stand still as if it physically pains him to do so. No matter how many walks around the city, how many storms chased after, he’s always looking out towards the horizon, aura so thick with discontentment it’s as if he’s physically cloaked in it.

Lately the only moments he seems to settle within his own skin are when he’s talking with Ms. Raifort, discussing ancient prophecies and ruins scattered around the globe. You don’t understand it, his passionate fascination–no, obsession with mythology. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?

Frankie won’t talk to you about the future, evading the topic like a cunning Nickit. Still you cling to his hand, to hope, to the belief love conquers all, until the morning of graduation he comes to your dorm room and stares over your shoulder rather than meet your gaze. Even Pikachu hides her face in his curls, ears lowered despondently.

You let him in, the beginnings of dread stirring in your stomach, sensing whatever he’s got to say will have irreparable consequences.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” You gesture towards the kitchen, an unspoken can this wait? laced within the question.

“Not feeling very hungry today,” he answers, glancing about the room aimlessly. No, it can’t.

“That’s a first.” You take a seat on the sofa next to Luxray, grounding yourself by stroking a hand along his back. “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna make me guess?”

At that, Frankie finally turns to you, and his torn expression fractures something delicate inside of you, coldness flooding your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking. About us.”

“What about us?”

“I love you.” There’s no sweetness to the words. No tenderness. They are words of blood, of pain, scraping against his throat on their way out. “I’ve loved you from day one and I’ll love you ten thousand more. But what I want, what you want—it’s not the same thing. And it’s only going to hurt the longer we keep pretending otherwise.”

“Stop, please don’t—” your voice cracks, the cold gripping your heart now. Please don’t say it. Please don’t do this. “We’re—we’re good together. You know we are.”

“We were,” he amends, voice so unbearably gentle it’s a jagged blade against your soul. “We were so good. But we’re not ready for what comes next. We’ve become thunder and lightning, one ahead of the other. Our timing is off, shutterbug.”

Day 765

It’s drizzling a little when you return to campus. You shiver in your wet dress, grimacing as you accidentally step in a puddle, thoroughly soaking your flats and bare feet. Hopefully you won’t slip on the stairs and break your neck. That’d be the cherry on top of this disappointing evening.

You just want to shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and fall asleep as fast as possible.

Except when you reach your floor there’s a figure curled up on the floor outside your door, fast asleep with a snoring Pikachu curled on his chest.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” You nudge at Frankie’s knee with your wet shoe, raising an eyebrow at him as he jerks awake, blinking rapidly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, you’re back,” he says through a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. Pikachu grunts, displeased at the movement and sounds, and stubbornly curls into a tighter ball, forcing him to cradle her in the nook of his arm as he stands up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just–I wanted to make sure you got back from your date okay. How did it go?”

Your date, Tom, is in Mr. Hassel’s art class with you. He invited you to see a new photography exhibit at the city’s museum. He was nice, if a little overzealous, and seeing lovely displays of art seemed like a better way to spend the evening instead of once again hopelessly pining over your best friend. So, you’d said yes, changed into a nice dress, and swore off any and all yearning.

Except that’s exactly what you ended up doing anyways.

Every time a photo left you breathless, you’d instinctively turn to look for brown eyes that weren’t there. Every joke Tom made you’d compare it to one of Frankie’s. Throughout the entire evening, you couldn’t stop your thoughts drifting back towards the Academy, wondering what he was doing.

You weren’t surprised Tom cut the date short, correctly sensing your heart just wasn’t into it. Still stung a bit though watching him leave you behind to join up with some other classmates hanging out in the plaza.

“Poorly,” you answer with a slight grimace.

“Oh.” Frankie blinks, looking at a loss for additional words. He’s wearing the hoodie he got from his trip to Montenevera over the holiday break and sweatpants, warm and rumpled and cozy, a complete contrast to your entire wardrobe. “Did he–did he hurt you? Because if he did anything inappropriate, I swear–”

“What? No, no, nothing like that happened.” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter of your heartbeat, touched at his protectiveness. He’s still staring at you, and you know he’s not going to let this slide under the rug. “Relax, tough guy. Tom was fine. I was the problem.”

“Tauros shit,” he immediately rejects the notion. “You could never be a problem.”

The hallway feels too hot all of the sudden despite the icy raindrops still clinging to your skin. “That’s sweet,” you say, trying to flash a grin except the muscles in your face refuse to cooperate. It feels stiff. Forced. “You say that to all the girls?”

His mouth tugs upwards into a smile, dimpled and boyish. “Once or twice,” he says, “but I only mean it with you.”

It’s dangerous and stupid to get your hopes up, but there’s something about the quietness, something about his brown eyes and his nearness, that makes you take a leap of faith. Makes you think screw it and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I was the problem,” you tell him softly, watching his expression sober, “because I kept looking for you.”

Silence follows, interrupted by a quiet snore from Pikachu.

Then, just as softly, Frankie says for a second time, “Oh.”

You swallow, feeling like you can’t breathe. “Yeah.”

“Silly girl, you didn’t need to look.” He squeezes your hand, leans in just enough to bump his nose against yours. “I’ve always been here.”

Day 1,375

Later, you won’t remember the particulars of how the rest of the conversation played out. There are words, so many words. Angry and inconsolable, spat out through clenched teeth and pleaded with numb lips. Tears, too. So many damn tears it’s a wonder you don’t drown yourself.

You will remember how he looks at you though. Brown eyes deep and golden, reflecting the morning light streaming through the window. He’s beautiful, and you think that’s the final straw of it all, the definitive proof that even as he’s ripping out your heart you will never feel anything less for him than love.

No passage of time or miles of distance will ever change that. You know this like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.

Still, this certainty doesn’t stitch up the gaping, bleeding hole in your sternum.

No, that self-healing won’t begin until many, many days later.

Day 610

In another life, if you hadn’t discovered your love of photography, you think you would have been a great astronomer. You know each of the constellations’ names, the best times during the year to spot them, even the tales assigned to them.

Tonight, the night sky is full of stars in every direction you look, not even the distant city lights strong enough to overpower their shine. You lie on your back in the soft meadow grass, hands resting on your stomach, the scent of wildflowers as thick in the air as the fireflies Luxio and Pikachu chase after. To your left, he mimics your pose, except he’s got an arm pillowed under his head, silent except for his breathing.

“There’s Kingler, cursed to hold up his heavy claw for eternity,” you say eventually, raising a hand to trace the starry outline with your fingertip. “Cubone’s next to him, forever mourning his mother.”

He remains silent. You turn your head to look at him, discovering he is deeply absorbed in his thoughts. Physically, you could easily reach out for his hand, but the blankness in his eyes suggests internally he’s half a world away. Somewhere you can’t follow. An irrational spark of jealousy burns hot in your veins, upset your presence isn’t enough of an anchor to keep him locked in the present moment.

You emit a quiet sigh, mentally rolling your eyes at your own childishness, and start to turn back to the sky when his voice catches you off guard, asking, “You ever notice they’re all tragedies?”

“Huh?”

“The myths behind the constellations.” He looks at you then, eyes dim with an emotion you can’t recognize. “Can you name one with a happy ending?”

You think about Pinsir, exiled due to his uncontrollable rage; Koffing, releasing toxic gases as he dies; Dugtrio, punished by an angry Groudon for gouging too many holes in the earth. The list grows longer, the tales grow sadder.

“No,” you say at last. “I guess not.”

He shrugs a shoulder, like it’s nothing, like his next words aren’t going to hurt something fierce. “That’s because happy endings are the biggest myth of all.”

Day 1,375

He kisses you. It is perfect and excruciating all at once. His hand is cupping your cheek, and his touch is so tender and intimately familiar you can’t stop yourself from indulging and it’s cruel of him to leave you like this. Shattered and wanting. Falling and flying.

But when Frankie’s right, he’s right.

This split in your paths has been a long time coming. You’d just refused to read the writing on the wall, content to keep counting the days, pretending the number would stretch on into infinity.

Infinity is just another word for forever though.

And there’s truth in that old saying: when you love someone—

“I love you,” he says again at the door. His eyes drift over your face, as if memorizing every detail. “And I’m proud of you. Remember that.” There’s the briefest of glimpses of tears in his eyes before he’s wrapping you in a hug, so tight your ribs painfully protest. You savor every second of it. “This isn’t the last of us. We’ll meet again, I swear it. One day, shutterbug.”

—you let them go.

Day 1,669

You’ve been dreading his arrival, dreading how he might look at you. What might be different. What, if anything, might be the same.

All communication thus far has been directly with Professor Oak. You haven’t heard a single peep even though your number’s stayed the same. Even though you know he knows you’re here.

Luxray stays close as the hour draws closer, trying to soothe your nervous energy. You stroke his mane, eyes flicking between your computer, the window, and then back again. The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for you to finish adding the last details to the report you’ve been developing on the Pokémon signs you and Will discovered. Bizarre occurrences where the environment manifests the likeness of specific Pokémon—always the same ones in the same places. But why they existed and what they meant remained unsolved mysteries robbing you of sleep.

It had been the Professor's idea to invite another set of eyes to examine the clues after months of no solid progress. For every one step made forward it felt like the universe would shove you five steps backwards, the hidden connection remaining just out of your reach.

If you had known Professor Oak and Ms. Raifort were old friends, that she would’ve recommended her favorite pupil…well, you’re not sure if anything would’ve really changed. What fate wants, fate gets one way or another.

Frankie arrives at eventide, bringing the warmth of the fading sun into the lab with him. He looks…unchanged. Maybe a little broader, thicker with muscle from his journeys. But still familiar in all the ways that matter. You wonder if the same can be said for yourself.

He’s looking at you, and it’s—it’s less painful than you expected. No tight band wrapped around your middle, no spontaneous bursting of tears. He’s just a man with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“Hey shutterbug,” he says, and it feels abruptly like slow motion, like you’re watching through someone else’s eyes as he comes closer, closer, closer and pulls you into a tight embrace. His arms are just as strong as you remember them, memories of graduation screaming in the back of your mind and you’re in your dorm room again watching him walk out of your life with your heart in tow.

You want to…

(kiss him, hit him, hold him, scream at him)

You want too many things.

“Hey,” you echo lamely as he pulls back. If Frankie hears the faintest of quivers in your voice, he thankfully doesn’t show a sign of it. You shoot a small grin at Pikachu, mouth stretching wider when she returns it with a cheerful pika pi, waving her paw. “Ready to help solve a mystery?”

“I always wanted to make history.” He’s smirking that same damn smirk, an intense pang of nostalgia striking you. Your fingers twitch, wishing you had your camera. “But I think it’s better this way, yeah?”

“What way?”

Distantly, you’re aware of Professor Oak and Will watching the conversation ping-ponging back and forth, both smart enough to pick up on the unspoken something between you and Frankie.

“Making history together,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “We make a good team, you and I.”

The words bounce around inside your head for a moment. A good team. Is that all we are? is what you want to ask, but the answer’s a double-edged sword shoved between your ribs no matter how he phrases it.

So you swallow the question down and bury it.

“C’mon,” you gesture towards your computer, “I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.”

Day 128

Winter sweeps in, all frigid winds and frosted windows. Together you stay at the Academy during the holiday break. It’s days of no homework, snowball fights, and parka coats. Nights spent by the fireplace, hot chocolates topped with whipped cream, wishing you could bottle these memories in a jar and keep them on a shelf.

If Frankie knew about it, he would say Jirachi heard your wish, but it’s your opinion that fate’s just got a funny sense of humor. Either way, a few years down the line you’ll have the collection of memories you desired, almost all of them starring him. They won’t be kept in fragile jars, but in captured photographs unaffected by the withering flow of time. Little glimpses of a happy life, and how much you've lost.

Day 2,000

You kiss Frankie on the front deck of the L.E.N.S. the night before he’s scheduled to leave. It’s stupid and impulsive, but he’s just right there in front of you, bathed in starlight and high off the elation that comes with solving another Pokémon mystery, further securing his place amongst the pages of historic exploration, a legend in his own lifetime, and there’s no thoughts in your head so—you kiss him.

It isn’t your first kiss, but it feels like something new. He’s got stubble now, you’re wearing a lab coat—little details of proof you’re far from the kids you used to be. He smells the same though, like coffee and evergreens and fresh rain. The quiet, awed exhale of your name, like you’re something wonderful, something mythical come true, is the same too.

And for the briefest of moments, you can almost imagine you’re together again.

But in the end it’s just a kiss, not a time machine.

Day 1,762

“For someone with a new career, you don’t look very excited,” Will says, knocking his shoulder against yours good-naturedly. You try to summon up a smile, but it isn’t fooling anyone.

Professor Oak’s treating you both to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you can’t pronounce the name of, celebrating the news of your new job as an official field research photographer working alongside Professor Mirror in Florio. It’s an amazing step forward, resulting from the success of the Rainbow Cloud discovery with Frankie, certain to give your name another added boost of recognition in the photography community.

“I am,�� you say, remembering how you’d nearly passed out when you received the offer. Another attempt at a grin yields better results. “It’s gonna be great.”

Will tilts his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about him. Again.”

“Not intentionally.” Your lips curl into a rueful grimace, fingers twisting together in your lap. “He just…never leaves my thoughts.”

Frankie told you before he left he didn’t have a home, not anymore, too much of a restless spirit to stay in one place. You wonder if his answer would be different, if he knew it’s been 1,762 days and every one of them he’s spent occupying your head.

“Even when he’s gone and left you behind?” From anyone else, the question would’ve been harsh, but your friend’s eyes are kind, full of empathy.

There’s a second where you contemplate lying, but you can’t. Not to him, and not to yourself.

“Especially then.”

Day 2,000

“Sorry.” It comes out of your mouth stilted—not because you don’t mean it, but because your heart’s beating like a thunderstorm. A wildness you haven’t felt in years.

“I’ve never needed an apology from you.” Frankie looks at you softly, the brown of his eyes getting lost in the dark. “Two thousand. Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday I watched you walk into class.”

You forget sometimes that he’s the sentimental type too when it comes to those he cares about. It’s why he doesn’t give Pikachu a Thunderstone, and why he only knows how to play one song on a guitar, his mother’s favorite. How sweet it is, to learn he must care about you to keep count, maybe even love you a little bit still.

“Frankie,” you start, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. His nearness is a comfort as much as it is a distraction, but this conversation is long overdue by hundreds of days. “What are we?”

“You tell me.” A hand comes to rest on your waist, a searing brand through the fabric of your clothes. “What do you want us to be?”

You think about the question for a long moment, wondering what words pack enough meaning to give the answer it deserves.

What you want is another storm to chase, another constellation to trace. What you want is for your hands to brush during walks, never having to hear his voice on the end of a phone again because he’s right there by your side. What you want is everything that once was to align in perfect harmony with the immediate now.

“I want us to be together.”

“We are.”

“No, we’re not,” you murmur, staring down at the mud stains on his boots.

“Listen, shutterbug,” his hands move to your head, one tilting up your chin and the other gently palming your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze, “a lot can happen in two thousand days–”

“I know, I know.”

His fingers spasm, like he’s resisting the urge to tug on your hair, eyes sharpening at the interruption. “A lot can happen in two thousand days,” he repeats, and you hear it this time, the heavy weight in his tone. Rarely is he this serious. “We’ve changed, we’ve grown, we’ve been on opposite ends of the earth from each other. But tonight, of all places, I’m here and you’re here.”

And maybe it really is that simple. People say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but twice now you’ve watched him go and twice he’s been brought back to you.

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists, holding him there. “Do you think we’ll ever be what we were?”

“No.” He steps impossibly closer, lips brushing against your forehead. “I think one day we’ll be better.”

Better, you mouth the word. It feels like a promise, like a turning point.

“Yeah, one day,” you agree, heartbeat steadying, matching the rhythm of his beneath your fingertips. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedrostories #my fic #my writing #frankie morales

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