#and i still can never pinpoint where it happens

[destinyandcoins]

the transition from de selby (part 1) to de selby (part 2)

#it's so fucking smooth. i've listened to the whole album like a half a dozen times by now #and i still can never pinpoint where it happens #it's SO good #first light has destroyyyyed me though #hozier #unreal unearth

[these-written-reveries]

I'm genuinely avoiding getting out of bed bc that means I have to get going with my day which means I have to make the call to my gyno to schedule an iud insertion which I still don't even want, but I have to bc I have endometriosis -that which I had a surgery for 6 months ago and I've been avoiding making a decision on this iud ever since bc it scares me. Not just because of the obvious side effects/scary things that are rare, but can happen with iuds, but also bc I'm chronically ill and I have GERD, which is a fucking monster to tame on a daily basis, but it can be made worse by birth control (I've already experienced it with the pill and it was hell). Idk if this one is gonna do that or not, but if it does, that means I will either have to take a PPI full-time for my GERD (which I don't wanna do bc I'm young and it's linked to bone density loss when taken for long periods of time) OR I will have to have the iud removed and just pray the endo doesn't grow back very fast and cause me to need another surgery in the next year or 2...which...if I'm being honest, I'm already starting to feel slight pain that I have associated with endo in the past, so that's not really reassuring. This iud is thought to be the best option for treatment bc it's supposed to slow down the growth of endo by thinning the lining of your uterus and preventing you from having periods. It is also basically the only option for treatment besides surgery so...yay me!

I care a lot about my health and I've developed a lot of anxiety surrounding my health as well. I don't like doing anything that risks ruining the balance I've worked so hard (and am constantly working hard) to maintain. At the same time, I know I need to at least give this iud a try, as it is my only option and who knows? Maybe it'll work great for me? That doesn't mean it's not scary as shit though.

Even though it's technically my choice at the end of the day, I feel like I don't truly have a choice at all. If I wanna take the best care of my body, I have to try this. Because, it's all I have, other than trying to go with basic natural treatments which I'm already doing and aren't really backed up by any solid science/tests. So...this is it for me. I have to be brave and try, but I'm so tired of being brave all the time 😫 I just wanna live my life and not have to think so fucking hard about my health 24/7. I don't wanna make decisions anymore lol. Can someone else just like...take the wheel? That would be great.

Anyway, I'm gonna do it. It's already 2pm, so if not today, then definitely tomorrow. I can't put this off any longer.

#being chronically ill SUCKS ASS #I wanna go back to the days where I didn't even think about any of this #my health was never a worry in my mind #for I was young and therefore I never had to think about such things bc that's for when ur old #right? #NOPE #big wrong #any of us can become physically disabled at any time #no one thinks it's gonna be them until suddenly it is #it did happen somewhat gradually but I can still pinpoint the time my life was truly flipped upside down #to think just 3 years ago I was living a totally different existence is fucking insane #anyway #it is wat it is #vent post #k.talks

[lilgynt]

i think i like will so much bc something is deeply wrong with him at his core. something isn’t right. and it’s not any other reason but him. it’s not the empathy or autism it’s not his childhood it’s not even his work or jack and hannibal something is deeply wrong with will graham at his core with no outside influence and he hasn’t done anything wrong - hell his whole job is helping people, he collects strays off the road nurses them to health and keeps em especially the ugly ones, and generally is kind if not nice whether it’s a time he’s kind by instinct or pushing himself to be kind he still is and all of this just to say something is so wrong with him in such an inescapable way that he’s always 100% conscious and self aware to

#personal #mr graham i love uuuuuuuuuuuuu #even graham in the books #that scene with the stoner son and his like prison friend and graham is like i’m very angry at this guy bc he scares me so i’m threateningt #to send him back to prison to feel more secure or whatever the passage was graham i think of you daily #and that line where jack is like i think wills knows exactly what’s happening in his head and that’s why he doesn’t want anyone in there #will graham could live a perfectly polished life from his birth to death never do wrong by anyone or thing once and even if everyone around #him treated him normally and his empathy didn’t get in his way i think will graham could still perfectly #understand laying in bed curled up staring at nothing bc something is not right and it’s not even something you can pinpoint or NAME #it’s just. an understanding and a drop in ur stomach that doesn’t end #anyway i think hannibal and will dealt with the awareness’s that sormthing was wrong/ other about them Completely different and it’s a lil #funny

[teamatsumu]

purple and pink. (rafayel x reader)

summary: you and rafayel cover yourselves in paint and (redacted).

word count: 3450

warnings: porn without plot, smut, swearing, nsfw, mdni, fem!reader

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

a/n: my brain is rotting for this man so this is just self indulgent crap atp

You weren’t exactly an artistic person.

You just never indulged in art before. Of course, you admired the craft and thought it was extremely difficult to actually create meaningful art. But you didn’t think you were a particularly creative person, nor did you think you had an eye for such stuff.

Ever since you began dating Rafayel, you would say your appreciation for art had definitely improved. How could it not, considering he spent all day creating it, and in the time he wasn’t, his world was still colored by the lens of it. Rafayel saw art everywhere he went, in the gentle roll of the water where it rippled in fountains, or the timid but pinpoint light of a lone star in a dark sky. He loved describing it to you, and the way he put it would make you look around twice. He had really changed the way you viewed the world.

What you were about to do now wasn’t exactly the kind of art that made you think deeply of the universe, but hey, not all art can make you question your existence. Sometimes you need to create….. lighter pieces.

Stepping back, you stared down at the bed sheet sized canvas you had stuck to the floor, sure that you had used enough adhesive to keep it temporarily in place. The clock on the far wall of the studio told you that Rafayel would be home in a little while, which meant you needed to start the next phase of your plan shortly. But first things first, you needed lighter clothes.

After you had switched your jeans and button down shirt for a thin, short robe, you began pulling down buckets of paint from the storage closet connecting to the main studio. You chose only two, a light purple and a light pink. Both colors you knew Rafayel liked using in his pieces. You might not know a whole lot about art, but you knew him inside out. And you also knew he would love this idea.

You spent the next few minutes going over the canvas with the two buckets, pouring a few globs of paint over it. Small, but dense, with lots of blank canvas around them so they could be spread. You decided to only do two or three globs of each color. After all, wasn’t the art in how the colors would move and slide on the canvas? This should be enough paint for that purpose.

Your face was heating up at the thought of what was about to happen, and you felt almost giddy. When was he going to be home? You couldn’t wait to get started.

As if on cue, the door of the studio clicked open, not making a single sound as your boyfriend lumbered in, closing the door behind him. His white shirt was loose, black pants tight, and you couldn’t help but admire his ass when he turned around to shut the door with a light snap.

“Hey-” He stopped almost immediately upon seeing you, eyeing the half empty paint can you were setting down and the flimsy robe covering your body. A body that was definitely naked under it.

“What are you doing?” You saw his eyes flick over you and then behind to eye the massive canvas you had laid out, along with the little circles of paint looking fresh and shiny on it. You gave him a grin.

“I was hoping we could collaborate for your next piece.” You tugged at his shirt until you both stood closer to the canvas, taking special joy in how confused he looked. His eyes kept darting all over the place to try and make sense of what was going on, and you had to stifle a giggle.

You thought to elaborate on your suggestion by slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Rafayel raised his eyebrows but didn’t stop you, probably curious to see what you were cooking. You tugged his shirt off his toned shoulders, before going to work on his pants. His hand finally seized yours, tilting his head so your eyes would meet his.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” His tone was amused. You hummed almost in thought, pulling your hand away. You tugged on the belt of your robe until it slipped free, and the front fell open. You saw the tips of Rafayel’s ears turn red, and his expression blanked a bit.

“You have paint. You have a canvas. And you have me.” Your voice was a low whisper. You reached into the bucket next to you, palms stretched, until they were both covered in paint. Then you reached one hand up and dragged your fingertips over his bare abs.

The cool paint made them contract a bit, and you heard the way his breath hitched under the touch. Four long streaks of pink now stood out against his pale skin. Finally, you looked back up to meet his gaze, his face inches from yours.

Rafayel’s blush had extended from his ears down to his neck, but the corner of his lip twitched up into a slow grin. His hands were eager as he undid the button of his pants, and you felt a thrill run up your spine. You watched him undress quickly. He was slow, smooth, as he lifted one precise hand to tug on the shoulder of your loose robe until it was falling off your shoulders and pooling at your feet.

He looked around and his eyes caught the second can of paint. Purple. He dipped his hands into it, and you watched him walk back over to you.

“Where did you get this idea, baby?” His voice had lost its confusion, coated in honey now, sultry and low, nearly a whisper, and you shivered when his breath hit your bare neck. He took advantage of the fact that your hair was pulled up and away from your shoulders, tracing gentle lips over the slope of your shoulder. Instinctively, your hands smoothed over his torso, and you were reminded of the paint on them, still wet, now swiped onto the man before you.

Rafayel hummed at the feeling and proceeded to return the favor, his hands set on your hips. The paint was cool on your skin, and you almost jumped at the temperature if it weren’t for his warm hands taking the feeling away in the next second. Your boyfriend gave your naked bodies a gentle tug backwards until you were stepping on paper, slight crinkling noises hitting your ears.

Gentle lips now made contact with yours, and you sighed in relief. You had missed this, just the feeling of him kissing you. You had been thinking about it- and other things- all day, and you were so excited to start. Hands caressed over each other slowly but eagerly, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how much paint you had managed to get on each other.

Your kisses became more hurried, more firm, and you could feel Rafayel’s body temperature rise a bit. His breath stuttered when you moaned into his mouth, tongues dancing together in a synchronized battle. He nibbled at your bottom lip and you arched deeply into him, nails digging into his biceps.

“Fuck, the paint is drying.” You managed to gasp out when your lips separated, his mouth finding the skin behind your ear immediately. He sucked hard on it, until you shivered and let out a long, shaky breath. Your knees were so weak, and you were glad for his strong arms wrapped around your waist, since it was the only thing currently holding you up.

He hummed against your skin, not letting up on the marks he was marring it with. You had discovered pretty early on that Rafayel was a biter, and marks on your skin was another way he created art. It just so happened that you enjoyed the feeling more than you could ever think to describe.

“Good thing you laid more out for us then.” He responded, referring to the globs just below your feet, before tugging you down until you were sprawled on the canvas below you. It was cool under your skin, and you felt something wet just under your shoulder. Oh. Your eyes met Rafayel’s before they finally traveled down his body for the first time since you two had started. You gulped in a deep breath.

His pale skin was covered in purple and pink streaks, like smooth color streaked over brilliant porcelain. The ridges and bumps of his muscles stood out even more under the paint, and you could tell in a few places the exact route your hands had taken, pink running over his waist and down his V-line. The remnants of the journey your fingers took stood before you, proud on his skin. You felt a thrill run through you at the sight, something stirred in your core.

“This is turning you on.” Rafayel observed, a light smirk resting on his face. You felt your body burn at the teasing lilt of his voice.

“As if this isn’t something you’ve dreamed of doing.” You retaliated, opening your legs so he could fit himself between them, resting his elbows on either side of you so your faces were a hairbreadth away. He hummed and sighed, lowering his body until his erection grazed right over your center, making you gasp.

“Believe me, I’ve dreamed of this.” He sighed, reached for the paint to the left and just above your head. You watched him cover his palm with it before he reached down, hooking a hand under your knee and pulling it up until it folded against your torso. The paint was wet on your skin, and you were learning to love the feeling more and more. His cock prodded your entrance, now on full display for him. He gave you another mischievous smirk.

“Baby I’m about to ruin you so bad.”

The first slide of him inside you had you crying out and arching into him, his cock carving its way through your unprepped hole and bringing with it a burn so delicious it made your head spin. When he bottomed out, he moaned unabashedly into your ear, hot breath hitting the shell of it and sending shivers through your spine. Your core clenched and unclenched rapidly, trying to adjust to the glorious intrusion. Your brain screamed at him to move, to slide in and out, do anything at all. You needed to feel him rock into you. Your hips twitched and jerked, making your boyfriend moan before he finally started moving.

His thrusts started out languid, smooth, gliding in and out of you at a reasonable pace. You sighed, head leaned back and reveling in the feeling it brought, leg tensing under his grip. Little tendrils of pleasure zipped up from where you were connected, heavy cock stretching you open until your pussy was adequately wet, ready to take the pounding you knew was inevitably coming your way.

And oh, did you receive it.

Slowly, steadily, Rafayel picked up the pace until his hips were smacking hard into your pelvis, knocking every breath from your lungs. You cried out, one arm thrown over his shoulder while the other seeked desperate purchase under you, used to the feeling of silk sheets but now met with nothing but smooth, stretched out canvas and the wet sensation of sticky color. Rafayel used the grip he had on your knee to twist your leg out further, inviting him to hit that one spot that made you see stars. A broken wail left your mouth and your back arched impossibly high, hearing a low moan hit your ear when you clenched tight around the cock pounding into you.

“F-fuck, Rafi-” His head lifted, just enough to connect your lips in a desperate slurry of rushed kisses, sucking and biting on your lips as his pace didn’t so much as stutter. Your moans dissolved straight into his mouth, little pornographic ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’s slipping out with every thrust. You didn’t bother muffling them, knowing exactly what the noises did for Rafayel’s ego, and with how he was ravishing you currently, you were okay with giving him a little ego boost.

(You would deal with the consequences of that later.)

“Gonna cum-” You managed to choke out just as your orgasm rammed into you with no warning, effectively silencing any other words as you cried and shook through it, muscles seized tight and legs kicking in the air.

“God- fuck,” Rafayel’s first words. “There you go. Fuck, that’s it.”

He fucked you through the last vestiges of your high before his arms slipped under your arched waist and lifted you up, rolling over until you were perched on his hips, throbbing cock still nestled inside you. The change in position made him slide in deeper, and you let out a broken moan. Your orgasm was still lingering around the edges, encouraging you to prolong the feeling, to chase after it again. And so you did. You rolled your hips, placing your hands on Rafayel’s abs as leverage to push your body up and down. You finally took a good look at your boyfriend.

His chest was heaving with exertion, shining under the glow of the lights above you, catching on the swirling mixes of purple and pink. Under the paint, his skin glistened with sweat, tensing and straining under his movements. The paint had reached all the way up the side of his neck, and even into his hair, blending with the purple tresses. The purple complimented his eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, his lip was tucked under his teeth.

He was a vision.

“Baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice was fractured and strained, and in your staring you had forgotten that you were also the object of his gaze. You couldn’t imagine how you looked right now, slathered with paint and hot under the stimulation you were receiving, strands of hair leaving your bun and trailing down over your face and neck. You rolled your hips and tightened hard around his cock, watching the way his jaw slackened and eyes rolled shut. Another zip of pleasure ran through you, and you couldn’t help but keen, pushing yourself to go faster, to make him feel even better.

“I’m- I’m so close.” You could feel your vision swim, tears gathering in your lash line as his cock dug deep into your core, prodding into your spongy walls in all the right ways. Rafayel grabbed both your wrists off his chest, pulling them behind your back and then tugging you down until your body was pinned tight against his. You let him do as he pleased, planting his feet on the canvas before he started thrusting hard and fast up into your sopping cunt.

You screamed and arched, body tensing at the pace he set, chin resting on his shoulder and head thrown back as you let him carry you face first into another orgasm, gushing around him until the sounds of his thrusts grew impossibly wetter, sloppier than the paint around you and covering you, blabbering incoherent phrases and curses as tears poured from your eyes. With every thrust, the ecstasy prolonged itself, like an endless high that came with intense drugs, except all you needed was him, and he would get you there if it was the last thing he did.

Your perspective was shifting, Rafayel’s cock leaving you until you felt cold and empty. He maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, or rather, arms and knees since you felt that you couldn’t even hold yourself up at this point. A firm hand pushed on your back until it arched to his liking, spreading you until he could slide his massive length back into you with little to no resistance. You whimpered pathetically, eyes rolling unhindered in your head, cheek smushed into the paper beneath you. Briefly, you felt like you could almost taste the paint, but the thought left your brain faster than cigarette smoke dissipating on a windy day when Rafayel started moving again.

“Stop me if you can’t take it.”

You could never, would never stop him, not when your pussy keened at the feeling of his cock filling you up to fulfillment once more. Especially not when he planted a foot on your side that gave him leverage to thrust harder and stronger into you. Your body buzzed and reveled under the feeling of being used like this, basking in the sounds coming from Rafayel getting heavier and choppier as he finally chased his own orgasm instead of yours. You wanted nothing more than for him to warm you up, fill you with his seed until you couldn’t take any more of it. Your depraved mind was wiped blank of everything else except that crushing need.

“Cum in me.” You managed to whine, clenching hard around him. Rafayel moaned and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck. I’m gonna- I’m cumming baby, take it, take it, take it, take it-” Your body jostled at the strength of his thrusts, once, twice, and then he was slamming his cock deep into you and holding it there, hot spurts of cum hitting your walls. Painting your insides white like your bodies had painted your outsides purple and pink.

Your entire body collapsed on itself when Rafayel pulled out, dropping onto the paper heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Your vision was swimming and so was your head, unable to do anything but focus on the faint buzz in your muscles. You could hear shuffling somewhere behind you before you were being lifted into strong arms. You sighed and curled into them, seeking the warmth of your boyfriend after the beating your body just took. And he was happy to provide it- in the tub he ran for you while both of you settled into warm water.

You dozed in and out of sleep as Rafayel cleaned you up, giggling and humming along with whatever little anecdotes he was telling you. He knew you would barely remember most of it later, considering how dopey and spacey you got after sex. You pouted and leaned up to him every few minutes, stealing tiny kisses from his lips. And afterwards, you let him pat you dry and put you to bed in the usual “princess treatment” he gave you after one of your sessions. The only time he backed off from teasing you relentlessly and instead doted on you properly.

You couldn’t tell how long you slept, but you woke up feeling well rested. The bed next to you was empty but still slightly warm, and you could hear quiet shuffling outside in the studio.

Your muscles screamed when you forced them to move, your hips and thighs feeling like particular sore spots. You ignored the feeling in favor of pulling a shirt off the floor to throw over your body, realizing it was your boyfriend’s when it fell all the way to your thighs. You trudged out of the room while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You saw him standing with his back to you, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. The muscles of his bare back shifted as he moved, now clear of all the paint you two had slathered on it. Oh right, the paint.

Your eyes shifted behind him to the canvas, which Rafayel had propped up against the wall now, and was observing silently. You walked closer to admire the streaks of pink and purple on it, watching it carefully. Somehow, the choppy strokes showed your desperation, your passion, and you felt your face heat up at the thought.

“Looks pretty.” Your voice was slightly rough. Rafayel turned around at the sound and gave you a soft smile, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you from behind as you both stared. You settled into his warmth as you swayed gently back and forth.

“Why’re you thinking so hard about it?” You asked.

You turned your head to watch as he huffed and pouted a bit. He looked so cute, you bit back the urge to squish his cheeks.

“Pretty sure there’s some cum in there somewhere.”

Aaaaaand the urge was gone.

You smacked his chest hard, making him jerk back and laugh, but not releasing his hold on you.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Not more than you.”

He kissed you before you could land another smack, hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back. You fought to keep a grin down, but failed when you felt his lips stretch with a smile of his own, erupting into giggles.

#rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnd #rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel smut #love and deepspace smut #rafayel x y/n

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights * mv1

since your breakup, max hadn’t thought of you. until he stumbled home by himself in the middle of the night.

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: honestly just heartbreak all around

notes: i started writing this when i found out my ex-boyfriend was dating someone new, and now here i am 💀 and i fear i am on my phone once more; i will credit the gif in the morning when i get to school

(next)

the lock clicks as max turns his key, the sound echoing in the eerily empty hallway behind him. he turns the knob and was greeted by his empty apartment.

max hasn’t been home in almost 2 weeks. the races and his media commitments, topped by other projects just made it so rare to find the time to come home. but that’s not the only reason he’s avoiding the confinements of these four walls.

he flips the switch in the entryway, slipping his shoes off. immediately, he notices the vast difference in the way his apartment looks — how strangely lifeless it feels.

he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is and it takes him a second to realise.

you’d emptied his apartment of your belongings.

the breakup happened in the 2 weeks he was away from home. it actually took place a night before his race. he’d grown tired of it too, the neverending misunderstandings and the fights.

so he let you walk away; you hopped on a flight back home.

he hasn’t exactly had the time to think about you since then. you’d only texted him once: two days ago to tell him that victoria will be the one with the cats until he comes back. he’d only replied with a simple ‘okay, thank you’.

he didn’t really know what to say either. he stared at your text message for 5 minutes before daniel called him over to start filming a promotional shoot. that was all he could come up with.

max walks further into the apartment you’d once shared. his eyes are darting all over the place, taking mental notes of spots that look different from the way he had left it.

the framed picture of you with the cats is gone, your magazines on the coffee table, the bowl of your collection of scrunchies as a ‘conversation-starter’ centrepiece — it’s all gone.

his apartment didn’t even feel like home. all of the things that made it feel like home just isn’t in here anymore.

max turns his body, taking a glance at the entryway. even your house slippers aren’t where they usually are. it’s as if you were never even here.

he takes a walk further in, glancing at the sofa. it seems so lifeless now without the teddy bear you brought in, and the blanket that you insisted was only for the living room.

he admits he misses the teddy bear. though, he was opposed to the idea at first, claiming that it’s taking up precious space that you could both be maximising together. it proved a lot more useful when he found himself hugging it when he’s on the sofa watching a show with you.

the remotes for all the appliances are no longer scattered over the furniture mysteriously. they are all lined up neatly on the edge of the coffee table, grouped accordingly. you hated arranging the console remotes for the simple fact that you were too lazy to reach forward an inch to start playing.

and it finally hits him, that in the moment of pride, and simply protecting his peace at the moment, he has now lost you.

for good, it seems.

max drops himself on the couch. he’s still looking around, desperately wishing that this was some cruel dream he’s in. he will wake up with you by his side, your hair in his face with his arm draped lazily around your body. he will wake up and you are still his, and he is yours.

he can only sigh. audbily, at the predicament he has found himself in. at the time, it didn’t occur to him to fight for you; to ask you to stay. he didn’t have it in him to ask you to find reason within yourself to change your mind.

then he hears a soft meow, followed by sounds of pitter patter against the floor of the apartment. before he knew it, the couch dips ever so slightly and then there’s jimmy climbing onto his lap to greet him.

then he hears actual footsteps, slippers dragging against the floor. he turns his head slightly, his one hand patting the feline’s head, and meets victoria’s eyes.

“max?”

“victoria.”

a set of lights by the windows are turned on, granting him a look at his younger sister. she’s standing by the door of the guest bedroom with a jacket hanging loosely around her shoulders.

she has a frown on her face, and a look that screamed she didn’t know what to say to him.

and then his heart breaks. instead of walking through those apartment doors hand in hand with you, giggling from the high you’d get from the bar in his private jet, he is sitting her all by himself. met by his younger sister, who would be gone by morning to go back to her family.

max can only smile sadly at her. he shrugs. “we broke up.”

“i know,” she answers softly, nodding understandingly. she approaches him cautiously with her arms slightly held up. “i’m sorry.”

“me too.”

max scrambles from his position and gladly takes in the hug that she’s offered him. he suddenly feels so small, his heart aching in his chest and his throat closing up. he feels the tears in his eyes as he hugs his younger sister slightly tighter.

she rubs her back up and down, hugging him even tighter when she feels his chest stagger slightly. now he’s sniffling and hands are moving up to his face to wipe the tears falling from his eyes.

“give it time,” victoria whispers, swaying slightly in an attempt to comfort the driver. “i promise everything will fall back into place. slowly, but surely.”

max sighs deeply. “i don’t know why i didn’t stop her from walking away.”

she pulls away from the hug, then tugs his hands towards the couch when he chases her embrace. she leans back, pulling max in for a tighter — and slightly more comfortable — hug.

“i know it sucks now,” she rests her cheek on the top of his head, squeezing his shoulder empathetically. “but let things sort itself out. it will be okay.”

there, in his sister’s arms, he cried for the first time since your breakup. he had been so busy that he hadn’t been able to process the whole situation at all.

the way you had shot daggers at him through your eyes that night, how he snapped at you when he noticed and how the fight had erupted from something barely of significance.

it was just over a cup of coffee — how you had made it with 2 sugars instead of 3.

from there, the topics of contention had evolved into something bigger. in the haze of both of your anger, past arguments were brought up and new ones were created just in that night.

then both of you grew tired. you ended up next to him on the couch of his driver’s room in silence. and you said, “i can’t do this anymore, max.”

and he had said to you, “i’m tired.”

but what he should’ve said was: “i’m sure we can find a way through this.”

but that’s not what he said to you. he stayed silent when you brought it up: “i think we need to break up.”

frankly, he didn’t really know what to say. at first, he was dumbfounded at what you said. never did he think, that when you first start dating, that a breakup would ever present itself.

max told himself, about 4 months into the relationship that there’s absolutely no way he’d end up with anybody else except you.

now, it seems he’s going to have to go through all of this by himself. start the whole thing all over again, unless something changes.

#oh #i like it! #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke f1

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

omg congrats for 5k doll! i wanted to slide in and see if i could have a protective!bf Gaz written since my baby is so underappreciated??? i saw this tweet about the scene in mw where gaz's disabling a bomb and is unable to and price throws the guy off the balcony, but this time the bomb in strapped to his love and he's and he's struggling and sees price out of the corner of his eye and remembers what happens last time and panicks and goes all 'you won't do that to her'. just a thought, love all your work!

—Don't Look At Her

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

"Gaz," your voice wavers, watching the rapidly working man and seeing his darting eyes—lit with panicked fervor. He doesn't answer, so you speak again. "Gaz!"

"No!" He barks, brown eyes instantly meeting yours. Lips pull in a right frown; there's a glint in his gaze that you'd never seen before—not in the many years you'd known him. Kyle's firm hands don't leave the wiring attached to your chest. The vest.

The bomb.

"No, Love," he grates out, immediately getting back to work as you try to keep your tears at bay, body jerking back and forth as your boyfriend pulls at the straps and bits. "Don't even say anything. You're going to fucking fine, you hear? It's going to be okay."

It was the product of bad intel, really. You'd been sent in without the proper know-how, leading to a scuffle where the butt of a gun had been slammed into your temple. When your eyes opened again, it was already too late.

Kneeling in the middle of a large office building, the glass of the windows shattered behind you, and the wind whips the back of your skull aggressively, you stare down at Gaz. Trying to form words on a tongue that won't cooperate.

"You need to run," you whisper out, resigning yourself as the rapid beeping increases. Your heart moves so fast you can't feel the skin of your chest anymore. "Kyle," pleading, you watch his jaw clench something fierce. "Listen to me—!"

"I'm not leaving you!" A sharp snap of a metal piece hits your ears, the piece of the vest clattering to the ground in a violent display of desperation. Gaz glances back up at you stubbornly; as if uncaring about the impending incineration only minutes away. "So you stop bloody talking like that, yeah? I'm not just giving up!"

The sides of your eyes dribble out rabid tears, lungs a mess of air and inhales that can't even be considered breathing anymore by how wheezy they sound.

How would it feel? Exploding into a patchwork of blood and fire—instantaneous, sure, but feeling Kyle's heat and his puffs of air; his fear, you can't imagine him dying like that. Not him.

"Look at me," Gaz pants, fingers pulling at cords in search of the one he needed to cut—unable to pinpoint it through the hack-job that had been done to your vest.

There was every color under the sun except fucking yellow. His teeth clench so tight they hurt his jaw, but he sends you quick glances as you shakily do as he says.

Brown eyes soften, and while the both of your hands shake, for a second there's a relief at the eye-contact. "Repeat it, Love."

You lick your lips and stammer, "y-you're not leaving."

Lips press firmly into yours, and you clench your eyes tight at the sensation, tiny sob breaking the contact.

"That's right." Gaz growls. "Not on my life."

Rapid footsteps race into the room, but before the Sergeant can reach for his weapon, the familiar call from the Captain echoes out.

"Friendly!" It's as if Gaz doesn't even register, still digging and fearfully looking at the timer.

50 seconds. 49. 48. 47...

"Sergeant," Price jogs over. You can barely find the inner strength to look up at him. "Sitrep."

Blue eyes dart from the vest to you and the Captain's serious face goes grim. His expression flashes with the inner workings of his mind, eyes narrowing and a grunt stuck under his lips.

"I have it," Gaz speaks quickly, and the words strike you as odd, though you don't comment. Price slid him a sharp look.

"Gaz—"

"Don't even look at her." Snarling like an animal, brown orbs are volatile enough to rend stone in two as they meet the older man's. You and John are rendered speechless, sharing a swift glance in shock like teenagers hearing their parents swear for the first time.

Kyle's eyes are wild, sweat slicking his brow. "Come fucking on!" He yells and your body is snapped forward as Gaz pries on the straps, having to steady yourself on the man's shoulders for support. Every muscle in his body is taunt; shaking with force.

Perhaps it was the memory that invaded his brain like a parasite that had made him snap at his superior like that—a stab to his fine tissue that digs all the way down his rail-straight spine.

Piccadilly Circus. Tanto building. Hostage with an explosive vest.

Kyle's fingers bleed as they peel back rough velcro, having ripped off his gloves to be nearer to you.

It all flashes past his mind in horrible increments, the past, but instead of a man—the hostage is you. And Price was burning his neck with a harsh stare once more.

He's going to throw her out the window, Kyle panics and you watch with the deadly realization of the situation. No. No, I won't let him. Not her.

"Garrick," Price says, voice deep. But he doesn't move. "You need to get your head back on."

"I've got it screwed on just right, Captain." Gaz grunts. "Trust me."

12 seconds. 11. 10. 9...

You stare at Gaz and memorize the make of his handsome face—the dates and the late nights speaking about the future sticking to your skin like leeches; sucking away every instance of love and happiness. His laugh. His brown eyes.

His smile.

Oh, you want to see your Love smile.

"Sergeant!" Price yells, moving forward to grapple onto Kyle's shoulder. "It's going off!"

Your boyfriend rips out of his hold, fists clenched and screaming.

"Get the fuck off of me! I can save her!" Your back hits the ground with a slap and a ragged gasp from your lips, the Brit straddling your hips in a desperate play to deactivate the bomb.

"Kyle," you look up at him, pleading. "You have to take cover, it's...it's okay. I love you, I need you to know that—"

"Bloody shut," eyes spark, locking on the bright color under the front of the vest. Gaz snaps a hand under the material and rips at it in a ruthless wrench of his arm. 2 seconds. There's a deafening snap of wire. "Up!"

The beeping stops and the world stills.

Your wide eyes can't stop crying as you stare up into brown eyes with astonishment; struggling to breathe. You can't tell if the building is vibrating or only you, but nothing seems to be able to focus as a wave crashes down on you; adrenaline still striking you.

Everything rings inside of your ears, pounding in your head.

Hands grasp the base of your jaw and lips descend to yours, tears slapping your skin from above in a wave of feral agony. Gaz stifles his sob on your mouth as you shake wildly, panting over your flesh.

Price gives off a large sigh from behind, standing straighter and turning his head.

Gaz's forehead connects with yours, but there are no words to be said—just the silent gazing and lingering fear of death. He won't let go of your cheeks, and, quivering, you go to grasp tightly at the sides of his arms.

With a shuddering breath, he closes his eyes and sags into you.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 2022 #x female reader #call of duty x you #cod gaz #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #cod x female reader #drabble #5k celebration

[sixosix]

can you do an aether x reader lil one shot please!!! my baby gets no love ;( I'm fine with any story or plot but maybe one where they've been travel buddies for a while and his feelings have just been bottled up over time and he just explodes in to a confession and then some cute fluff from there!!!!!!

a/n wc 1.6k there are tears in my eyes as i write this i love aether sonmuch. also sorry if this is all over the place i was trying so hard not to turn it into another 10k word fic…. ft. lyney

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment his feelings blossomed. there was no pinpointed moment, only all of it growing restless inside him.

he likes to keep his team to four people maximum, oftentimes none at all—just him and paimon to worry about as they move from region to region, friends made yet no proper strings attached. it’s for everyone’s sake, as aether doesn’t plan on staying too long in one place. that’s how it should’ve been.

you appeared one day, demanding to take you in his team. just for liyue and then you can separate ways, you said.

“i’m visiting my awfully quiet lover to break his silence. i need to figure out why i’ve stopped receiving letters,” you explained, blinding him with your bigger-than-life personality.

and because aether is a weak, weak man to people who don’t know how to back down, he agreed, albeit hesitantly. “alright,” he said in defeat. “just liyue?”

“just liyue,” you affirmed, beaming as he’s accepted you probably easier than you expected.

just liyue is a lie, and he should’ve known it the moment he had to confirm it. he didn’t bother with formal introductions and keeping conversations, knowing he wouldn’t see you again anyway. it didn’t help that paimon adores you, expressing her loud disappointment when you have to part ways with them.

paimon floated lower than usual. aether sighed. “should’ve known you’d grow to love someone who spoils you with sweet madame more than me.”

“hmph! y/n’s nicer to paimon than you!”

but he does see you again some time later, facing a large tree, kicking it out of frustration. it’s pouring heavily; your clothes are soaked.

“am i scary?” you asked when aether and paimon approached you, staring ahead, fists trembling.

“what’s wrong?! did something bad happen?” paimon fluttered around you nervously, unsure if she could touch you.

“he’s not dead, at least,” you said bitterly. “just too cowardly to tell me that he doesn’t love me anymore. i suppose it was better breaking up face-to-face than through letters.” you sighed bitterly, shoulders hiked up to your ears as a fresh wave of quiet tears washed over you, muted by the rain. “this is embarrassing, getting dumped because i was too much.”

“it’s not. you came all the way from mondstadt just to see him. didn’t he at least care about that?” aether asked, which might’ve just been his longest sentence yet. why were you out here soaking? if it were him, he wouldn’t have been so rude to leave you astray during a thunderstorm.

“i can’t force him, if he doesn’t want to see me. i’ll be alright, i promise.” you rest your forehead against the bark of the tree, water sliding off your cheeks—aether isn’t sure if it’s the rain or your tears.

he understands, possibly more than anyone.

and aether—still a weak, weak man when it came to people breaking down in front of him, knowing what it’s like to lose someone so dear to you—gently says, “xiangling told us there’s an event holding place here later. you’re coming with us.”

just liyue was already a warning in itself that it would never be just as that.

you weave yourself in his life as if you were always there, fitting in like you haven’t met him and paimon just a few days ago. he tries to convince himself that he’s doing this to cheer you up, but you’ve been making him smile more than they do to you.

he would turn to his side and see you feeding him a chicken-mushroom skewer after a short battle, insisting even when aether says he’s not as injured as you may think. he would turn to his side and see you and paimon laughing over something he missed and find himself grinning as well.

he would turn to his side when you tug on his sleeve, shyly asking if he’s willing to take you to inazuma as well because you didn’t want to stay in liyue if they weren’t here anymore.

“sure,” aether would say. he’s a weak man, and you were holding on to his cape, looking so adorable that aether wanted to melt on the spot. but that’s a normal reaction to cute things, probably.

taking you to inazuma turns into bringing you along to sumeru, then eventually fontaine, until everyone is convinced you’re a staple in aether’s adventures: aether, paimon, and y/n.

this is what it’s like to have a good team, aether persuades himself. a good team, a useful asset, aether reminds himself sternly as you slice a ruin cruiser off of existence with fierce anger in your eyes and a stick of tricolor dango in your mouth. you wave at him after, beaming, and his heart does something weird.

and now, when some of his friends suggest that he lays you off even just for a day so he can have three other people who work together seamlessly with him, he dismisses it quickly—without thinking. he already works best with you by his side. if they want to come along with him, they have to accept they’re coming along with you just as well.

“thanks for letting me join you,” you whisper one night, lying on the grass and watching the stars with him. you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling softly.

“of course,” aether says. of course, because now he can’t imagine what it’s like to not have you with him. “i’m the only one who can handle how scary you are.”

you scoff, gently punching his arm as he laughs. “shut up, idiot. you know what i mean.”

i know, aether wants to say. but would that be too much? aether doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to replace someone important in your life this quickly.

you are scary. you’re terrifying him with all these unwanted feelings he doesn’t know what to do with. but aether wasn’t lying, either—he can handle fear just as well.

and now, as aether watches lyney grin and kiss the back of your palm, aether’s chest burns with something unpleasant, sitting in his stomach and urging him to take action. a rock under his shoe. he does not like it, not one bit.

“uhh,” paimon shifts nervously mid-air. “paimon thinks you should stop glaring daggers into lyney before he notices.”

“glaring daggers? i’m not glaring daggers,” aether hisses. his fingers are starting to ache with how painfully he’s clutching his sword. “no daggers here…” he curses as he watches you grow increasingly flustered.

the sight startles him. not your expression, not lyney’s clear provocation, but aether’s stance towards it.

“i thought we’re friends with lyney again?” paimon asks, terribly confused.

“the best of friends,” aether says, marching over to the scene. paimon makes a disbelieving noise.

lyney smirks knowingly as aether gently tugs on your arm. “oh,” lyney says, all sly, more of a fox than a cat, “i didn’t know you were already spoken for. i do apologize for the misunderstanding.”

you glance between an amused lyney and an irked aether, dazed. “i’m not…?”

“your jealous boyfriend says otherwise,” lyney snorts as aether bristles.

aether glares heatedly at lyney, even as the latter backs away with a smug grin. “y/n, let’s go. there’s nothing else to do here.” he’s being rude. he doesn’t care. his mind is blank—or maybe it’s running miles per minute, and he struggles to keep up.

and because you always listen to aether, you let him drag you off, nearly failing to wave goodbye to a chuckling lyney. lyney calls for paimon, distracting her as aether continues walking away from the scene.

you turn to aether, barely able to keep up with his hurried steps. “whoa, whoa, hey, aether—aether, are you okay? your face is so red.” you touch his cheek, and he crumbles. “aether.”

he halts, frowning at the ground. frustrated.

“aether, is there something wrong?”

that’s the thing. aether doesn’t know what’s wrong. he was content with watching you from afar—content with your stars slowly aligning with his as he stands back and watches it happen. he was content with not doing anything about it. but not doing anything about it would mean everyone else thinks you haven’t got aether wrapped around your finger.

“sorry,” aether says. to the painful beating of his heart, restless with unexplained fury. “i didn’t—”

“…idiot.” you always tell him that. you’re the only one who calls him that, but he knows that were they to try, he wouldn’t let it slide so easily. “it’s okay to admit you’re jealous. it’s cute.”

it is not lyney’s flirtations that tip aether over; it’s the sweet smile you give him, the gentleness of your gaze, and your face so close to aether’s that you and him share the same breath. what tips him over is all of it crashing down on him, as daunting as a fight, as abrupt as the beat of his heart:

oh. oh. is that it?

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment you wormed your way in. maybe it was the moment you jumped down from a tree branch and scared the wits out of paimon, only to demand nervously he take you. maybe it was the moment he softens when your shoulders shake and rain pours relentlessly overhead. maybe it was the stab of jealousy seeing someone else try to steal you away from him when you so obviously belong to him as he belongs to you.

it doesn’t matter.

“i want you,” aether says, then blinks when you do a startled take. “no—no. i mean. i… like you. and i want you to stay. here. not with them. not anyone else.”

“stay right in front of you?”

“in front, beside—doesn’t matter.” aether grows weak, limp as he presses his forehead against yours. “i just want you.”

“okay,” you smile, tipping your chin to kiss his cheek. his heart soars. “that’s all i needed to hear.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #aether x reader #aether x you #aether x y/n

[heartsandhischier]

"You slept with who?"

nico hischier x reader

summary - 1.5k words. trying to escape an awkward encounter after a one night stand, emphasise on trying

author's note - in my head nico is such a sweetheart no matter the situation, and NO ONE can tell me otherwise. i will protect this man with my life!

warnings - slight reference to the devils tango (ig), swearing

As the morning sun tiptoed through the parted curtains, it painted the room in a soft glow, awaking you from a restless slumber. A throbbing headache served as your unwelcome alarm, joining forces with the sunlight to assault your senses. You pulled the covers over your head, seeking refuge from the discomfort, suddenly hit by an unfamiliar scent – cologne. With a jolt, you sat up, struggling to pry your heavy eyelids apart as you looked around the room. This wasn’t your bedroom.

Where the fuck am I?

Alone in the unfamiliar bed, you took a moment, attempting to piece together the puzzle of your surroundings. The room was clean, neat, the owner clearly a tidy person. Despite the overall cleanliness, scattered trinkets and personal belongings were scattered along the space, giving it a sense of lived-in comfort – a curated chaos. 

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze fell upon the floor, a scattered array of clothing formed a path from the bedroom door to the bed. With a hesitant rise from the mattress, a sudden realization washed over you – you were completely naked.

Remnants of the previous streamed through your mind. Recollections of hitting the club with your girlfriends flooded back, the taste of margaritas still lingering on your lips. The thumping bass and flashing lights of the club replayed in your mind, each memory accompanied by the relentless pounding in your head.

As your feet met the floor, your head pulsed with every beat, you had to get out of here. This wasn’t your typical scene – you weren’t accustomed to waking up in unfamiliar beds after nights of festivities. And when these rare occurrences did happen, you never stayed long, avoiding any potential awkward encounters with one-night stands. Hastily you collected your belongings, attempting to look just a bit more presentable as you assessed your disheveled reflection in the full-length mirror. Panic set in as you realized your heels were missing – likely abandoned somewhere in the entrance hallway.

You peeked your head past the bedroom door, checking if the coast was clear. No one in sight. You kept your head low as you tiptoed along the corridor. Your heart raced with each step, the uncertainty of encountering the apartment’s owner weighing down on your consciousness. Lost in your haste, a collision abruptly halted your escape.

Fuck

As water splattered and your belongings scattered across the floor, the jarring sound of shattering glass pierced your ears. Before your bare feet could melt into the broken shards, a pair of strong arms caught you, preventing a painful misstep. A heavy silence settled over the room as you couldn’t bear to meet the eyes of the stranger. “Are you okay?” His voice was thick with an accent you couldn’t quite pinpoint, breaking through the tension. Unable to muster a response, you offered a timid apology, keeping your eyes trained on the floor as you began to gather your scattered belongings. Finally standing upright, you mustered the strength to meet the stranger’s gaze. Warm brown eyes met yours, framed by a freshly-trimmed beard and tousled brown locks – a picture of effortless charm, even in the disarray of early morning wakefulness.

You were lost in his eyes for a moment. He must have noticed as he let out a small chuckle, “I’m sorry for ruining your escape. I was just trying to get you a glass of water.” he explained with a soft smile, gesturing toward the now-spilled contents polled on the floor amidst the shattered glass. 

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you watched him bend down to collect the scattered glass. It seemed like a series of unfortunate events had led you to this moment – waking up in a stranger’s apartment, breaking a glass meant for you during your escape, and now, standing awkwardly as he cleaned up your mess. What made it even worse was that you didn’t even know his name. 

An uneasy silence hung in the air as he continued to tidy up. "So... last night was fun?" his smile genuine despite the situation. You could only manage a sheepish smile and a polite nod in response, feeling utterly mortified. He chuckled at your response, tossing the broken glass into the trash.

Once he finished cleaning up, he approached you again with a fresh glass of water in hand. Dressed in a black t-shirt neatly tucked into a pair of gym shorts, you couldn’t help but notice the definition of his muscles peeking through the fabric. You politely accepted the glass of water with trembling hands. Taking a hesitant sip, the cool water provided some relief to your throbbing headache.

His laughter broke through the tension as he observed your state. “You don’t remember my name, do you?” he teased, causing your cheeks to flush even deeper. You stammered out an awkward apology, feeling like you couldn’t sink any lower in embarrassment. 

“It’s alright, happens to the best of us,” he reassured you, his voice gentle and understanding. “Since it seems we’re both in need of a little memory jog, how about we start fresh? Hi I’m Nico,” he introduced himself with a mock bow. 

You felt a smile tug at your lips, appreciating Nico’s effort to lighten the mood – definitely not the reaction you’d expected after the awkwardness of being caught trying to escape his apartment. “Nice to meet you Nico, I am Y/N,” you gave him a small courtesy, mirroring his playfulness. His laughter was infectious, melting away the tension that had gripped you moments before. It was amazing how quickly his easygoing demeanor put you at ease.

“I would’ve offered you breakfast, but I have to head out to practice,” Nico explained with a smile, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. “Early morning practice after a night out, wow, you’re a fighter,” you teased, genuinely impressed by his dedication given your own current state. 

"Well, gotta do what you gotta do when you're captain," he replied with a grin, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "But I can offer you a ride home on the way.”

-

“YOU SLEPT WITH NICO HISCHIER?!” Sarah’s voice was a mixture of shock and excitement, drawing the attention of nearby patrons in the cafe. You hastily gestured for her to lower her voice, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

Sarah’s hand shot to her mouth covering it, quickly scanning her surroundings she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You slept with Nico Hischier!?” her eyes were wide with excitement, barely able to contain herself.

“I didn’t know!” you chuckled, shrugging in amusement. “Yeah, that’s because you’re boring and don’t watch sports!” Sarah teased. “He’s literally the captain of the New Jersey Devils!” Sarah exclaimed, her arms waving around excitedly. 

“How was it? Was it good?” Sarah fired off questions, her curiosity barely giving you enough time to answer. You laughed, trying to keep up with her rapid-fire interrogation. “You tell me,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. “I don’t remember, I mean, I didn’t even remember his name!”

Sarah’s eyes widened in realization. “You have to meet him again,” she urged, the sudden weight of missed opportunity sinking in. You groaned – you didn’t get his number. With a defeated sigh, you explained the predicament to Sarah.

“We’ll just have to go back to the club. tonight. “

-

The club pulsed with energy, red lights casting an enticing glow over the throngs of dancing bodies. Sarah and the girls were lost in the music, their laughter mingling with the bass thumping through the air. Despite their best efforts to drag you to the dancefloor, your attention remained divided, your gaze drifting to the entrance in hopes of spotting those familiar brown eyes.

It was a long shot, you knew, but it was worth trying. Why hadn’t you thought of exchanging numbers? You sighed, taking a sip of your amaretto sour. Amidst the chaos of the club, your purse buzzed incessantly, drawing you out of your thoughts. Fishing out your phone, you were met with an unknown number flashing on the screen. Normally, you wouldn't answer such calls, but tonight, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your veins, you pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you shouted into the phone, hoping to be heard above the chaos of the club.

“I can see you're looking for me,” the voice on the other end replied, laced with the same thick accent. Your head snapped up, scanning the club for the source of the voice. And there he was, standing by a table surrounded by a group of guys you could only make out to be his teammates. His warm brown eyes locked onto yours, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gave you a small wave. A surge of relief and excitement washed over you as you realized you hadn’t lost your chance after all. You couldn’t help but smile, you probably exchanged numbers during your drunken encounter, lucky for you. 

With a grin plastered on your face, you made your way through the pulsating crowd. The warmth of his presence drawing you closer, as the pulsating rhythm of the club faded into the background.

“Hey stranger,” you playfully smiled. “Ready for round two?”

#nico hischier #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier fanfiction #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier smut #nh13 #new jersey devils #njd #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils imagine

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k words

warnings: explicit language, little tiny hint of angst, mostly fluff and good and fun vibes though<3

summary: in which everyone seems to notice that something is going on between you and steve, but they can’t pinpoint what it is

author's note: we start off kinda angsty and then i promise it's just cute and fun 🫶🏾

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

Most of the time, things always happened the same way. You and Steve would end up in the living room with the intention of studying and doing work for your classes. You’d settle on the floor— because leaning over the coffee table to do work felt much more casual than being at the dining table— and it was always after only twenty minutes of actually being somewhat productive that Steve would drop his notebook or textbook onto the table and shift closer to you, innocently kissing your cheek or the side of your head. 

It was always the subtlest of touches that would pull your focus away from the notes you were taking or the reading you were doing; Steve knew how easily the flip would switch for you. 

This time it was a soft kiss against your neck that made you let out a small laugh and then a quiet hum, already leaning into Steve’s touch. Moments later you were in his lap, knees on either side of him and pressing into the rug under you both. 

Your hands were on his shoulders and then circled his neck, fingers finding home in the hair at the nape. He was the one to close that final bit of distance between you two and hurriedly press his lips against yours. You inwardly smiled at his eagerness and leaned into him so that he was pressed back against the couch.

His hands settled on your hips and then slipped beneath the shirt you were wearing. You expected him to start pushing it up and off of you, but he didn’t and instead simply began to trace teasing circles against your skin, which elicited the softest sigh in contentment from you.

After a few moments, you were pulling away from his lips to catch your breath, and his mouth immediately went to your neck. 

“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Steve mumbled against your skin. 

Your eyes were shut as you responded with a simple, “Mhm?”

“It’s been a month now,” He started and then pressed a kiss right against a particularly sensitive part of your neck before continuing. “I think we should just tell everyone about us.”

Steve’s words didn’t entirely surprise you— because, in a way, they felt inevitable— but you could still feel yourself slightly stiffen in his arms and a wave of nervousness washed over you when you heard them. 

You knew that this conversation was going to have to happen eventually, but in the past almost five weeks, it had never come up, and instead, you two fell into a sort of routine where you worked out the best way to keep everything a secret. 

It wasn’t a secret that could be kept from everyone forever, that was obvious and you knew that, but you honestly didn’t hate living in this sort of limbo state where this newfound relationship between you and Steve was kept just between you and him. It felt safer that way. 

You pulled back a bit so that you could meet his eyes. It was hard not to immediately look away from his hopeful gaze and small smile, but you still held eye contact as you shook your head, arms dropping to your sides. “I don’t know…” 

“Why not?” He didn’t seem mad or upset at your soft-spoken words, just genuinely curious and a little confused. 

The answer to why you’d been so hesitant didn’t finally feel obvious until this moment. It was a thought that lingered deep down inside of you and seemed better left unsaid, better left avoided. It was also a thought that contradicted everything you felt, but it somehow still existed. You really didn’t want to say it aloud, though.

You were about to shift off of him as a way to avoid answering the question, and to also maybe shut down the conversation altogether and change it to something else. But, Steve’s hands stayed on your hips, keeping you in place. 

You let yourself meet his gaze again, the questioning look written across his face was clear as he spoke again. “Why not?”

You still didn’t want to answer, but simply looking at him for a few moments made you feel like you really could answer honestly. He was the only person that you knew you could tell anything to and it would always end up being okay, and you fully leaned into that thought. 

“I think I’m…” You started and then immediately trailed off because you suddenly felt dumb for the way you felt and what you were about to say. However, you also quickly decided not to shy away from finally saying it. “I think I’m scared.” 

“Scared of what?” Steve asked softly, and you had to look away from him then because it was easier to answer the question with your gaze settled on something else.

“That you’ll change your mind. That you’ll decide that I’m actually not what you want,” You said, feeling the urge to try and run away again, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. “And I’m scared that I’ll be too fucked up from that rejection to let things go back to how they were with us. And then our friendship will be ruined, and everything with everyone else will get messed up too.” You let out a sigh as you shook your head. “And I know that it doesn’t make sense to think that because things have been so good between us, somehow nearly fucking perfect. But, I still do.”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes again and the look that crossed his face affected you completely. He shook his head at you. “I wouldn’t have said anything about how I was feeling if I thought for a second that I would change my mind. There isn’t any question about it. I want this. I want you. I want us.” His hold dropped from your hips and instead, he found your hands, intertwining them with his and giving them a light squeeze. “It’s always been you. And it always will be you.”

A series of knocks on the front door broke you both out of the seriousness of the moment, out of the conversation entirely, and you didn’t get a chance to respond or even fully think of what you wanted to say before you were looking at the shut door and starting to move out of Steve’s lap.

His words did a thousand things to you right then. You believed them entirely and they eased away your fears and made you feel okay— better than okay, actually. Instead of verbally responding with anything, you wanted to simply lean in and slot your lips against his. Actual words didn’t feel like they’d do enough to coherently sum up what was going through your head at that moment. 

I believe you. I’m certain that you’re it for me too. I love you. It’s always been you. I never want this to change. I trust you, completely. You’re so fucking important to me. You’re the most important person to me. I love you. 

Your mind was a jumble of disorganized thoughts that all basically said the same thing, and you knew that a kiss would be able to succinctly say all of that and then some. And maybe Steve could already see what was going on in your head because there was no one else who could see through you as easily as he could, even when your thoughts were in such a chaotic state— you honestly didn’t think that there was anyone that could read you that well at all.

The knock came again and you fully stood up and he followed suit. 

“I’ll… I’ll get it,” You told him as you headed toward the door, but then something abruptly switched inside of you and you were turning around and walking back over to him. You pushed up on your toes and let your arms circle around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. How quickly his arms wrapped around you made you smile into his neck as you spoke. “I really love everything you just said. And I wish we weren’t being interrupted right now because we should talk about it more. But, I want you to know that I feel the same exact way as you. I promise. And it’ll never change either. And now I’m just rambling, but yeah.”  

Your rushed words were quiet and slightly muffled but you could tell by how Steve was holding you tighter and kissing the side of your head that he heard you clearly. Another knock sounded at the door, which made you pull away from each other and you finally went to open it. 

“Jesus, finally,” Robin said as she walked in. “We need to talk to you guys about something.”

“What’s going on?” You asked, directing your question at both her and Eddie, who was walking in right behind her.

He held up his hands in a sort of mock surrender. “This was all Robin’s idea so I’m gonna let her take the reins.”

You looked at Steve and he gave you a half-shrug, seemingly just as confused as you were in this moment. 

Robin took a few steps into the living room and then turned toward you and Steve. 

“Can you two sit on the couch, please?” She asked, and instead of questioning her and what was even happening in this moment, you both decided to just listen and follow her current antics. 

“Why does this feel like an intervention?” You asked as you settled on the couch. 

She nodded. “Because it is.”

Steve was about to say something, but she interrupted him before he could. “Don’t even ask why this is happening right now. We know something’s wrong between you guys. It’s been weeks since you two hung out with all of us at the same time. We see you one night.” She pointed at Steve and then pointed at you. “And then we see you at the next group thing, and it’s starting to get really weird because usually you guys are attached at the hip. Clearly, you’re avoiding each other because you’re in some sort of a fight or something, so we’re here to help you resolve whatever it is.”

For the most part, she was right— you and Steve had been avoiding each other like the plague around your friends, it just made keeping the secret from everyone easier— and it probably shouldn’t have been too surprising that Robin and everyone else thought that something was wrong between you two. Even in this moment, you and him were sitting on opposite ends of the couch because it had subconsciously felt like the right thing to do in front of them. Now thinking about it, everything you two had been doing around them did seem really weird because you’d never been like that before.  

“Depending on whatever this fight is about, my advice will probably be shit, so yeah, just putting that out there,” Eddie said from where he was in the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “I’m mainly here just because Robin needed a ride and I wanted to see Harold.” 

“My advice, on the other hand, will be great so tell me everything,” Robin said.

You shook your head. “We’re not in a fight.” 

“Okay…” She said, entirely unconvinced by your words. “Then, what’s been going on with you guys?” 

“There’s nothing—” Steve started, but you immediately interrupted him.

“We’re dating.”

It was impulsive, but it surprisingly didn’t feel as such— it honestly felt like the only right thing to do right then. As soon as the two simple words, that you knew would change everything, fell from your lips, you didn’t feel an ounce of regret; you more so felt complete relief. And you now also completely understood why Steve had wanted to say it sooner. You turned to look at him and gave him a small smile and he returned it with a happy one of his own. 

Robin’s eyes widened a bit. “No way.” 

“Holy shit,” You heard Eddie’s surprised voice in the kitchen. He was then leaving his soda on the counter and moving to stand next to Robin. “Really?”

“Yes,” Steve answered with a nod and wider smile. “We’re together, and it’s getting very serious. She’s obsessed with me.”

You rolled your eyes and shifted closer to him so that you could playfully poke his side. “Oh, shut up. You’re definitely way more obsessed.”

He grabbed your hand, intertwining it with his and then pressing a quick kiss against the back of yours. “Okay, yes, I’ll admit that I’m also very obsessed.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you for being honest.”

“Wow, this is kind of adorably sickening,” Robin said, laughing a bit. 

Eddie smiled. “Congratulations on you both finally pulling your heads out of your asses so this didn’t actually take twenty years to happen.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Twenty years?”

“Wait,” Robin jumped in before Eddie could address your confusion. “When did this happen?”

“Last month. During the ski trip,” You answered. It somehow still felt like only yesterday to you, even though so much had happened since then.  

“March,” Eddie nodded and then looked as if he was trying to remember something. He then looked at Robin once it seemed like the thought hit him. “Shit, we owe Max and El five bucks.”

Steve looked at him, confused. “What? Why?” 

“We all maybe, kinda, made a bet at the beginning of the year....” Robin started to explain. “We took guesses about when you two would finally get together.”

“What?” It was impossible to hide your surprise, but you also kind of wanted to laugh because of how insane that sounded. “When did you guys do that?”

“At the New Year’s dinner you guys set up here,” She said, and that only surprised you further. You thought back to that night and couldn’t remember anything seeming any different.

“How were we so oblivious to this?” Steve asked, voicing the question that was now on your mind too. 

“When we were doing it you two were in your own little platonic married couple world. Like usual,” Robin explained with a simple shrug as she settled next to you on the couch. “Dustin wrote down everyone’s guess.” 

“Oh, Dustin’s gonna go insane about this,” Eddie laughed. “We should call and tell him right now.”

He was already walking over to the kitchen where the phone was before any of you could say anything.  

You shook your head. “He’ll be fine. I don’t think this is that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s the biggest deal,” Robin responded. “The mom and dad of the friend group finally getting together is huge.” 

Steve gave your hand a light squeeze at that and you smiled, leaning further into him. 

At first, the whole bet thing sounded insane to you; now you were just curious. “What were everyone’s guesses?” 

“I can’t fully remember, but I said never because I honestly didn’t think that you two would finally do this, Eddie said twenty years, and everybody else said some other months. I know Max and El said March… Oh, and I know Dustin said February because ‘it’s the month of love,’” She laughed a bit.

“I did realize how I felt in February, so I guess he was half right,” Steve told her.  

“How did you realize it?”

You had heard the full story from him a few weeks ago when you two were in your bedroom— you quickly got into a habit of always sleeping in each other’s beds instead of only sometimes doing it like before; sleeping apart became a rarity. It was sometime around one in the morning when you were randomly asking him how it all hit him and he told you the exact things that had gone through his head that morning when he realized everything. You were shyly smiling practically the entire time he spoke because it was the sweetest story you’d ever heard, and then you were kissing him until you both finally fell asleep. 

“It’s a long story, but it just suddenly felt so fucking obvious,” Steve said, answering Robin’s question and she smiled at that. 

All of your attention turned in Eddie’s direction as you heard him start talking on the phone. “Dustin, hey, big news." There was a short pause. "Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, it’s good news. So, they’ve been acting so weird these past couple weeks because they’re fucking dating! Finally!" Another pause and then Eddie let out a scoff. "Of course, I’m not lying,” He told the teen on the other end of the line. Dustin said something else and Eddie laughed and then looked over at you and Steve. “He wants to talk to you guys.”  

“Should we be scared?” You asked as you stood up from the couch and started walking into the kitchen, following a beat behind Steve. 

He nodded. "Probably, yes."

Eddie handed the phone to him and he placed it at his ear. “Hey.”

It was almost too easy to hear the shock in the teen’s voice even though you weren’t that close to the phone. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this over the phone. Also, I can’t believe it was Eddie saying it instead of you guys.” 

“Dustin, you’re being overdramatic,” Steve said.  

“This should’ve been a sit-down moment. This feels just as important as if you two were telling me you were getting married.” 

You sighed. “Dustin…” 

“Wait, are you guys getting married?” 

You leaned in closer to Steve so that Dustin could hear you. “No, we’re not getting married.” 

You could hear Robin and Eddie laughing on the couch. 

“Okay, well, when you do, I expect you to tell me that in person.” 

“Of course,” Steve playfully joked. “In fact, you’ll be at the proposal. I promise you’ll see it happen live.”

You laughed a bit. “Yeah, you can have a front-row seat. I’m completely okay with that.” 

“Do not joke about that shit,” He said, and it felt almost impossible not to laugh at how serious he sounded. “Wait, so when did this happen? When did you guys get together? Was it February?” 

“No, it was last month,” Steve told him. “So, apparently, Max and El win the bet that Robin and Eddie just told us about.” 

“Shit,” Dustin sighed. “I wanna hear everything about how this all happened later; in person. Oh, and since you guys didn’t tell me yourselves, can I tell everyone else?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” You said with a shrug and then repeated your words from earlier. “This really isn’t that big of a deal.” 

Dustin simply scoffed and you could practically hear him shaking his head. “Oh, it’s a huge deal.” 

Steve let out a laugh. “That’s exactly what Robin said.” 

“What did I say?” Robin yelled from the couch.

“That this is a huge deal,” Steve answered her.  

“And it is!” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut

[hufflefluff-stuff]

hi! i was wondering if you could write how HL characters would act when they are jealous

Yes! Also, I'll add how these characters wind up confessing to their crush! 👍

Characters: Sebastian, Garreth, Ominis, Poppy, & Leander

......

Sebastian Sallow

Let's be fr..this guy gets jealous INSANELY easily in canon, even when platonically speaking.

It's hard to pinpoint where he exactly started catching feelings for you, but he certainly fell for you fast after your adventure into the library's restricted section.

Unfortunately, because of your growing reputation as a "hero" around Hogwarts, Hogsmede, and other hamlets...you've have strangers and students alike often come up to you and interrupt your conversations with Sebastian.

They mean well, only showing up to compliment you or thank you for some favor you've done for them.

But still it puts him in an sour mood, especially if he's unable to do anything about it without coming off as a prissy Slytherin.

During classes, he feels 10x worse if he's not partnered with you and instead sees you with classmates he views as "competition"...like Garreth, Leander, or even Amit, scowling at them in envy and unable to focus unless the professor specifically calls him out on it.

The only exception is Ominis, since he's a trusted friend and damn well knew his crush on you (he has certainly used this as blackmail to stop him from doing stupid stuff) but Sebastian will still huff about how "close" you two are growing.

Sometimes his jealousy gets so bad he needs to go blow off some steam in the Undercroft, casting damage spells on whatever poor dummy, pillar, or knight armor happened to be in his way.

It's nothing that Repairo couldn't fix.

While your assistance in his quest to find a cure for Anne was extremely important to him, that's not the only reason he brings you along for the ride.

He genuinely enjoys your company, and it's his chance to actually be alone with you and talk without any rude interruptions.

Well...there's trolls, rankrok's loyalists, spiders, ashwinders, Inferi, etc....but none of them are annoying students who try to hog all your attention just to spite him.

Aside from Ominis, Anne keeps encouraging her twin brother to make some move if he's that jealous (which Sebastian repeatedly denies).

Sooner or later...he may lose that chance, and he fears this. But he never knew when the moment would come..

Then one night, you were both fighting poachers and their leader, an Animagus, insulted him so horribly that it made his confident expression drop for a moment--as did his Protego shield.

You didn't hear what she said exactly, but his devastated face told you enough and you were pissed.

So you rained down a torrent of ancient magic lightning before she can even think of transforming.

Sebastian could only watch as you smite her like some furious god unleashing your wrath on the world, finding you both badass and ethereal.

When it's all over, you rushed to his side and ask if he's okay--but he just kisses you right there and then, silencing you.

He's so sick of waiting.

Garreth Weasley

His jealousy is nowhere near as bad as Sebastian's...but it's still there. Just subtle.

He pouts a lot when somebody steals your attention away, and he tries way too hard to impress you with whatever brilliant potion concept he drafted up (and definitely didn't have approval to brew in class under any circumstances).

Speaking of which, you're his usual partner in potions class, so he'll be highly disappointed if Professor Sharp decides to pair you with somebody else that day.

Garreth feels this sting in his heart if he overhears you praising them for their perfect brew, while he stares into his bubbling cauldron and sulks, wondering what he could've done differently.

He didn't know how you truly felt about him, so he got the genius idea to cook up a love potion the day you had a substitute for class (he sat at the furthest station and had secretly gathered the ingredients beforehand).

Just as you were about to try it for yourself, he accidentally knocked an incompatible ingredient into the pot and caused its contents to explode, staining both of your robes in pink.

While everybody laughed, the sub made the stains vanish with some magic and decided to dismiss class early, making you two stay behind to clean up the mess.

Luckily only house points were deducted due to your actions, so you won't be getting detention for this.

Still...Garreth was quite upset and you could tell.

You reassure him you're not mad in the slightest, and that you knew exactly what he was trying to do (followed by a small wink before continuing your cleanup).

His face turned as red as a maxima potion, and when he returns to the Gryffindor common room for the night, he gets confused stares from his fellow housemates as they wonder what's gotten into him.

But he can't stop thinking about you.

Maybe you ingested droplets of the love potion after it exploded, since you did seem particularly flirtatious with him in that moment and knew his intentions.

Looks like he got his wish after all.

Now to ask you out properly..

Ominis Gaunt

He's not an easily jealous guy. He'll never get angry at other people for simply wanting to spend time with you or if you're partners with them in class.

You've made a name for yourself at Hogwarts, and while he doesn't always agree with the dangerous stuff you get involved with, he only expects people to look up to you and pull your attention away from him.

Though deep down, it kinda hurts...especially since quite a handful of students from other houses perceive him as someone you shouldn't be around (some Gryffindors with "holier than thou" personalities even had the guts to say you're better off without him when he's standing right there).

Being a Gaunt + a Slytherin had that effect, unfortunately...

But he's sick of hearing that all the time.

Anyone else would've snapped at whoever criticized them based on blood status or rudely interrupted a conversation they're clearly having with you.

Yet when he does it..suddenly he's the bad guy?

It never made sense.

So any jealous feelings Ominis has stem from his own insecurities, and they grow even worse the more he realizes he's in love with you..

Like Sebastian, he'd probably storm off to the Undercroft to calm down if he's feeling heavily upset.

Fortunately, you're quick to defend him and decline other people's advances, saying you'd much rather hang out with him.

When you nearly got into a wand duel/fistfight over something insulting they said about him, that's when he realizes you cared about him as more than a friend...

Though he wanted to test the waters, so to speak, before hyping himself up to confess to you.

So throughout the week, Ominis expressed subtle desires to be in closer proximity to you (which you were fine with despite being initially confused at his sudden change in behavior)

These are, but not limited to, linking arms while walking in the hallways, napping beside you while you were reading or petting a random cat, "accidentally" falling asleep on your shoulder in History of Magic, and letting you guide him through assignments in herbology and potions class so he took the correct measurements (his grades improved, which is always a plus).

It takes a little bit of encouragement from Sebastian, but by the week's end, he courts you in one of his favorite spots outside the castle, gathering flowers, candles, and everything.

You truly made him feel loved..and he was going to do his best to reciprocate that.

How he wishes he could see the looks on those Gryffindor preps' faces when they realize the "hero of Hogwarts" is his date.

Poppy Sweeting

Considering how little she spoke to other students, even ones from her own house, this Hufflepuff found it difficult to get close to you at first.

You being hailed as a "hero" made it especially challenging, as you seemed constantly busy and people were bugging you for attention/advice/help....all while Poppy was standing in the background, forcing a smile.

Of course, you always made time to help her rescue beasts. It became your passion, and she was happy about that. Your adventures together allowed you to connect on an emotional level.

The moment she knew she was in love was the night when you both observed a Mooncalf dance, trying to make sense of the pattern those sweet big-eyed creatures left behind.

No matter how many times you've seen them, their dances are spectacular--ever captivating.

But when Poppy asked for your opinion on the pattern she drew out, she stops after seeing your breathtaking smile, eyes practically sparkling in the glow of the moonlight..

And suddenly that's all she could focus on.

Suddenly that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Since then, her jealousy around other students has increased tenfold...especially when one jerk who disrespected beasts bragged about their poacher parents and invited you to visit their camp.

You've never seen a girl Depulso another student so fast in your life, but Poppy acts like nothing ever happened.

Similar to Sebastian, her jealousy manifests in the form of glares and general scorn towards anyone trying to ask you out on a date (which you, fortunately, decline).

She 100% rambles to the beasts about you.

If Highwing and Lord of the Shore could talk, they'd tell her to just stfu and confess to you already bc the tension is killing them.

It only (finally) happens when you invite her to the Vivarium for the first time, and they both nudge you two together, not backing down until you finally kiss.

If any of yall know that scene in Pokémon Scarlet/Violet where the box legendary pushes Arven towards his friends...that's this exact situation.

Leander Prewett

There's not doubt that this Gryffindor was going to grow jealous of your rising popularity in Summoner's Court and Crossed Wands.

He's a sore loser, while you have generally good sportsmanship..but he secretly appreciates you encouraging him to keep practicing. He only keeps going because of your words alone.

Outside of classes and competitions, he tries to hang out with you but oftentimes your attention goes to other people--whether it's professors keeping you after class to go over extra assignments or a friend sending you an owl with an urgent request.

You don't mean to keep ditching him, but to him it feels like you're always "too busy" for him.

Leander just scowls at the owls while they stare back at him like "hey, don't shoot the messenger".

Yet even when you do manage to spend time together, he only ever asks about your recent escapades....and then refuses to believe them despite you explaining them in great detail.

To this day, he still isn't convinced you possess ancient magic.

But the truth is that he wants to believe you. He admires your bravery and is insanely in love with that aspect of you....though he doesn't know how to express that.

He wishes he can relate and have cool stories to tell, but when people bring up his name they only ever talk about his constant failures.

He doesn't feel any better when others rush to defend your acts of heroism, thinking he's being a jerk.

The truth is you actually loved him and his company despite your frequent banter, but believed him to be way out of your league.

At least until the day Professor Kogawa assigned you to help him after flying class, citing the lack of respect he's been showing to his broom and your good influence on classmates.

He saw this as his chance to impress you...and failed miserably as he was unable to focus and snapped at his broom in frustration, causing it to whack him in the face just as a group of Slytherins passed by.

They laughed and teased him relentlessly, but after scaring them off with a chomping cabbage...you realized Leander had disappeared.

But he didn't go far as you discover him sulking near the lake, hiding himself with the Disillusionment charm (which you cancelled with Revelio).

It's there he finally talks about his true feelings towards you, and you see a more vulnerable side to the typically uptight Gryffindor.

In the end, you decide to give him a chance.

#it's fair to say seb and leander are the most jealous lads ever #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy x mc #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #poppy sweeting #poppy sweeting x reader #leander prewett #leander prewett x reader #jealousy hcs #headcanons

[veryberryjelly]

coping mechanisms

spencer reid x fem!reader ( platonic or romantic x )

prompt : one leaning their head onto the other's shoulder suddenly and they just freeze

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

i made a playlist specifically for this concept which you should definitely check out -> here <-

the jet was quiet aside from the peaceful rumbling of the plane's engine lulling everyone to sleep.

emily and derek were both fast asleep propped up in the chairs in the centre of the plane.

jj was sat next to the brunette skimming over case files while hotch and rossi were having a quiet discussion at the other end of the plane.

which left you and spencer sat next to eachother, with an earphone in each of your ears while some music played through them.

after cases the plane tended to get quiet and you could never stand it, so very early on in your bau career, you had made a playlist specifically for the plane ride back to virginia.

nothing too loud or happy as you weren't always in the best mood, everything soft and calming and just comforting.

after a particularly rough case a few years ago, everyone on the jet had been on edge and just quite melancholy since you left the police station.

and sat across from you, spencer looked the most out of it.

he's features looked sunken from the days without sleep poured over this case, yet his eyes were wide open. unable to fall asleep.

while he usually read on the plane, his book was discarded next to him on the couch.

you couldnt look at it anymore.

so you pushed yourself up from your place on the opposite couch and sat yourself next to him.

you offered him an earbud silently, not wanting to disturb anyone else on the plane.

when he hesitated, you explained.

" sitting here reliving it isn't going to help anything. it helps stop my mind wandering if i'm listening to something. " you said quietly, your other earbud still in your hand for him to take.

" thanks " was the soft response from him as he took it and settled it in his ear.

I can't forget that night, You said I looked like Suzi Quatro

In the morning light, faded to oblivion.

And I said, "That's alright, at least we feel alive"

At least we feel alive

There's nothing you can do

I know that I want this

No one likes to lose

Know that I got this.

the sultry tones of suki waterhouse banished almost all the thoughts of the last few days from his mind and instead he was focused on the sounds flowing through your earbud.

since then, it had become almost a tradition on the jet home.

one earbud each and a couch shared between you.

sometimes the two of you would talk while it played, other times you'd both be reading or even filling out paperwork.

but always on the plane home, you would listen to music together.

to the point where you would always just gravitate towards eachother on the jet as everyone made their way in. and everyone knew, not to block any way for the two of you to sit together.

everyone had their coping mechanisms for after cases, and they couldnt deny either of you yours.

especially considering it was such a healthy one.

this case had been a rough one though. you hadn't been able to save the unsub or his last victim and being right infront of him when he died just made it a lot more real.

his blood stained your shirt, and your skin.

it was spencer who helped you wash it off when you were a bit too dazed to move.

you sat closer than usual on the jet, the outside of your legs pressed against each others as the jet flew over a state you couldn't pinpoint.

after not sleeping for three days, you couldn't physically keep your eyes open. your eyes fell shut as the sound of the cranberries flooded your ear.

your head dropped onto the nearest surface, which happened to be spencer's shoulder to your left.

while you could feel your mind slipping off into unconsciousness, you felt the surface you had rested your head on almost flinch.

you lifted your head up, prying your eyes open as you realised what you had done.

" sorry, i haven't slept the last couple days. didn't mean to use you as a pillow " you apologised, lifting your hand to wipe under your eyes, attempting to wake yourself up a bit so it didn't happen again.

" no no, it's okay. just startled me " he replied. while his tone was still quiet, his voice was quiet.

" you're not usually so jumpy " you observed.

" didnt sleep too well either. " he admitted

" why don't you get some sleep ? it's gonna be a while until we get back to quantico "

he pondered it for a few minutes before ultimately shaking his head and muttering a quiet ' i'm good '

you knew why he didnt want to sleep. it was the same reason you didnt sleep after a particularly tough case for spencer.

to make sure he was okay. protect him.

" you can sleep, spence. i'm fine " you punctuated your point by dropping your hand down onto his thigh in a light pat.

" i will if you will "

with that promise, you settled your head down against his shoulder again, his head taking moments to rest ontop of yours.

the comforting words of delores o'riordan comforting the two of you as you drifted off into a comfortable and safe slumber.

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

Do you have to let it linger?

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 #·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐟𝐢𝐜 #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds gone wrong #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds incorrect #cm punk #cm incorrect quotes #cm drama #cm cast #cm fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #mgg x y/n #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg pics #mgg imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg

[cutielando]

lucky number 100 ~ lando norris

Summary: Lando finally gets the win he deserves in his 100th race.

Word count: 1.2k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

100 races.

If someone had told you that you would be with Lando and see his 100th race with McLaren, you would've probably laughed in their face.

You and Lando have been together for years, you being by his side ever since he started his racing career. You had never missed a race, not a weekend went by when you weren't seen on the paddock proudly wearing your boyfriend's number on your back.

With the COTA Grand Prix coming up, it also being Lando's 100th race in Formula 1, it was safe to say he was more nervous than he usually was.

That is precisely the reason why it was 1 in the morning before race day and Lando couldn't get himself to go to sleep. Thoughts plaguing his mind, all sorts of scenarios regarding the race going through his head.

You had fallen asleep earlier that evening, having been exhausted by the qualifying and everything. However, you woke up a little past 1, stretching your arm over Lando's side of the bed in search for his warmth but you were met with the cold sheets, making you frown.

"Honey?" you called out, rubbing your eyes and waiting for a response.

When you couldn't hear anything, you pulled the covers off your body and took Lando's hoodie that had been discarded on the floor and pulled it over your head.

You opened the door to your bedroom and walked out, quietly searching for your boyfriend in the middle of the night.

You found him sitting on the couch in your living room, watching TV with the volume down with a lost look in his eye.

"Baby, what are you doing up? You need to get some sleep before tomorrow" you said, making your way over to him and sitting down next to him, snuggling up in his arms.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. Kept fidgeting so I decided to come out here so I wouldn't wake you up" he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your temple, savoring the feeling of your body snuggled up to his.

"What's got you worked up?" you whispered, trailing one of your hands up and down his chest, knowing it was one of the things that helped calm him down in any situation.

"The race, I guess" he shrugged, not being able to really pinpoint the trouble himself.

"What about the race?" you pushed, knowing he had to get whatever it was off his chest.

"I don't know, I just feel like everybody expects me to win because it's my 100th race and everyone will be disappointed if that doesn't happen and I'll let everyone down"

You nodded your head, understanding now where he was coming from.

A lot of his fans and people in the F1 business are constantly talking about him winning this race, how amazing it would be if he did it and how it has been long overdue, which obviously puts a tremendous amount of stress on him.

If he does deliver, he's going to be on top of the world. But if he doesn't, people are going to judge, they're going to talk shit and judge him.

"You don't have to listen to anyone. Screw what other people are saying, you don't need to put this pressure on yourself. Just drive how you know you can and let the result be whatever it may be. I'm still going to be proud of you, regardless if you end up being P1 or P20, baby" you raised your head and took his chin in your hands, making him look at you.

"You're not going to be disappointed if I don't win?" his voice was so soft and vulnerable, it made your heart break at the thought of possibly being anything but proud of him.

"Baby, no. I'll be proud of you if you finish first and I'll be proud of you if you finish last. That doesn't matter to me. All that I care about is that you are safe and come back to me in one piece. I love you, and I'm always going to support you in everything, but you need to stop letting these things get to you. You know what you're capable of, put that talent to use and have fun"

He sighed but a small smile made its way on his lips before he slowly nodded his head.

"You always know what to say, one of the many reasons why I love you" he leaned in and pecked your lips, bringing you into an even tighter hug afterwards.

"I should consider switching my job as a full-time wag to being a motivational speaker" you joked, enjoying the sound of his laugh filling the room.

♡♡♡♡♡

"10 minutes to go" Lando's engineer said as he poked his head in his driver's room where the two of you were hanging out.

Lando nodded and his engineer left, leaving the two of you alone again.

"This is it" he spoke up, looking at his hands which were fidgeting on his lap.

You took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with his in order to calm him down.

"Remember, don't push yourself too hard and risk crashing or getting hurt. It's not worth it. You'll get your win, baby, but don't push it today if it's not meant to be. Be safe, please"  

Lando nodded and gave you a reassuring smile, kissing you deeply after you stopped talking.

You squeezed his hand as you pulled away and stood up, motioning that you should get going.

You walked with him until you got to his car, giving him one final kiss before he got into the car and put his helmet on.

Lando's engineer motioned for you to join him, giving you a pair of headphones so you could be up to date with everything happening.

You all watched the formation lap before every driver got into their respective positions. You held your breath as you saw the lights before it was time to finally begin the race.

Lights out.

♡♡♡♡♡

He did it.

He had won first ever race in F1. 

You couldn't explain the pride and love that filled your heart when he was the first one to see the checkered flag.

He had absolutely dominated the whole race, managing to overtake every single car on the track and maintaining his position when it seemed that he might be under attack.

You don't think you had ever seen him drive better than he did today.

"Y/N! I did it!!!" he shouted as he ran to you, helmet and balaclava already off.

"I'm so proud of you, baby!!" you squealed and jumped into his arms, squeezing him like never before.

"Oh my God, I did it, my love. This is all for you" he exclaimed, holding you tightly and squeezing your waist.

"No, Lando. This is for you. You've been waiting your whole life for this, you've worked so hard all these years and today everything finally paid off. I'm proud of you to the moon and back, baby" you pulled away from the hug just enough so you could lean in and kiss him, pouring every single feeling of pride and adoration for him into the kiss.

"I love you so much" he muttered against your lips, refusing to let go of you when his PR manager called him for some interviews.

"I love you too, my winner"

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[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 32

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hadn't wanted one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Big tantrum?” Benito asked.

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

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

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

The other two men were smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What did he mean by that?

“What about you, Javi?” Ken asked.

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

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

He met the other man’s eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know—are you okay, baby?”

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

Oh, she was drunk and missed him.

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

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

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

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

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

He could tell she held the phone toward them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was already on the road heading toward town.

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

“Why is tha’ sooo romantic? Honestly, I think you’d figure ou’ a way to ge’ us into one of the lifeboats.”

“Probably.” He shrugged.

“And then we’d ge’ to Amer’ca and start our new life together and have sooo many babies.”

He was still smiling. “Yeah—so many babies?”

“It was ye olden times when the only thing women could do was take care of their husbands and babies, plus there was basic’ly no birth control and you only cream pie, sooo yeah, we’d hav’ a ridic’lous amoun’ of babies.”

“I wanna have a ridiculous amount of babies with you now.”

“God, I know you do, and I wanna have all your babies, all of them, ‘cause you’re gonna be the bes’ dad. Like, the bes’, and our kids will be sooo lucky to have you, and they’re gonna love you sooo much and be so cute—I hope they look like you—you were sush a cutie, and I’d love to have a bunch of mini yous.”

“I want them to look like the both of us.”

“Meh, you’re cuter.”

“Stop that, you’re fucking adorable, and I’d love if our kids looked like you.”

“Fine.”

“Why’d you drink so much tequila, mi amor? That stuff makes us—”

“Horny?” she finished for him. “Our clothes magic’ly disappear.” Her speech was still slurring. “Robyn got us Tequila Sunrises, then Cat—” That was the wife of one of her coworkers at the hospital; they hung out with the couple occasionally. “—got us another round of them, bu’ Alma—” His prima (cousin) and sister of Sebastián. “—got us all tequila shots, and I also got us tequila shots, and I think there was another round—too much tequila, whish is why I called you to pick me up.”

His mouth turned down in a frown.

“Please tell me you had some food, too, and water.”

“Yesss, I knew you’d worry, so I ate a plate of fries and shared mozz-mozzarella.” She giggled. “Tha’s a fun word to say—I shared mozzarella sticks with the girls, and I drank water—had a glass aft’r ev’ry drink ‘cause I was-like, ‘If my Javi were here righ’ now, he’d wan’ me staying hydrated,’ and I couldn’ le’ you down.”

He smiled. “Thank you, baby. I’m proud of you.”

There was someone in the background who sounded just as drunk as her, asking her, “Wha’ are you doin’ out here?” It was Robyn.

“Calling Javi,” Cielito answered.

“Come back inside. You said you were goin’ pee.”

“I wen’ and Javi’s comin’ to pick me up. I’m waitin’ for him to ge’ here.”

“Girl, it’s barely pas’ midnigh’, and your bachelorette party! Leave the man alone and have fun with us! We’ll get pie after here at the diner.” It was open twenty-four hours.

“I need him,” she whined.

“Oh my god, you’re ditchin’ us for dick!”

“It’s really good dick, and I need it!”

“Mi amor?” Javi said to get her attention.

“Yes?” she answered.

“I’m not gonna fool around with you while you’re fucked up…”

“I know,” she whispered. “Don’ tell anyone, bu’ I’m too drunk, and I hate it. I wanna go home.”

“Okay, cariño (sweetheart). I’ll be there soon to pick you up.”

Another voice was heard on her end. “Why are you guys ou’ here?” He was pretty sure it was his prima, Alma.

“She’s ditchin’ us for dick!” Robyn exclaimed.

“I told you it’s really good dick!” Cielito said just as loud.

“Gross!” Alma was slurring her words, too, and sounded disgusted. “You’re gonna-make-me puke!”

“Sorry, Alma,” the other two women replied in unison.

“It’s okay,” Alma said. “You’re leaving already? I don’ wan’ you to go. We’re having so mush fun!”

“Yeah, don’ go!” He thought that was Cat. “This is the only night I can go ou’ alone this month! Le’s keep partying!”

“I’m sorry, guys,” Cielito responded. “Tequila was a mistake, and I need to go home.”

Javier figured she’d forgotten he was on the phone with her.

“I’m horny, too,” Robyn said, “bu’ you don’ see me booty callin’ my boyfriend to ge’ me, and he’s got really good dick, too!”

“¡Guácala (Gross)!” Alma interjected. “No sé por qué salgo contigo (I don’t know why I hang out with you).”

“Because we’re fun!” Robyn said. “Don’ lie, you loved it when I got our bride-to-be to rap “Shoop” with me.” Javier only knew that Salt-N-Pepa song because he’d heard his bride-to-be rap it on many occasions—she was really good, to be honest.

“You are fun, bu’ who wan’s to hear about their brother and cousin’s sex lives?”

“Sorry, Alma,” Robyn and Cielito said again.

“You all can still have fun withou’ me!” his wif-fiancée told them.

“A bachelorette party withou’ a bachelorette?” Robyn asked.

“I think that jus’ makes it a girls' night out—yeah, you can have a girls' night out! Fuck, where’s Javi? Did I tell you guys he’s comin’ to ge’ me? Wait, my phone! Javi, are you still there?”

“Yes, baby, I’m still here.”

“Where are you?”

“Maybe ten minutes away.”

“Ugh, okay.” She whispered the next bit loudly, “Robyn’s mad at me.”

“Damn straigh,’ I’m mad at you!” Robyn said. “It’s your bachelorette party, and you’re abandonin’ us for a man!”

“But he’s like a really grea’ man, and wonderful, and han’some, and the bes’, and I love him so, so, so, sooo, mush and wanna have his babies. So, I’m not abandonin’ you for ‘a man,’ I’m abandonin’ you for the greates’ man alive, and you can’ be mad at me for tha’.”

What she said had Javier grinning.

“Y’all are too disgustingly in love, but wha’ever, nex’ girls' night, no fuckin’ tequila.”

She forgot he was on the phone with her again and listened to their drunken discussion about what they should do for a girls' night, going off topic a few times. Her friends stayed with her until he arrived.

He pulled into the parking lot and stopped at the back of the building where he saw the group of women and some other bar patrons hanging out by the door, the area lit by two lights on the building.

“Cielito?” he said, hoping it’d get her attention. “Are you still there?”

“Oh my god, Javi!” Came her exclamation. “Where are you?!”

The truck was put into park, and he kept it idling as he got out.

“To your left.”

Her head turned to the right, making him snort with a smile on his lips.

“Your other left, mi amor,” he said. He’d walked around to open the passenger door, and her gaze finally landed on him under the orangeish glow of a towering street light.

“He’s here!” she squealed, and he ended the call, putting his phone back on his belt. He watched her shove her own in her purse before she hugged all of her friends goodbye.

Javier had seen the dress she was going to wear tonight; he just hadn’t seen her wearing it. When she turned his way and he got a good look at her, his mouth fell open, and he thought his heart would beat out of his chest like a cartoon character in love.

The champagne-colored mini dress was long-sleeved and covered in sequins, the neckline plunging to accentuate her breasts, the skirt ending just a little above her knees, a white sash across her chest reading in fancy black script, ‘Bride-to-Be,’ and she looked fucking stunning.

His awe ended when he suddenly had to act fast and catch the woman he loved who flung herself into his arms—he grunted at her body slamming into him, her lips crashing into his, wrapping his arms around her back to feel her skin from the deep V down her back.

The smell of booze hit him almost as hard as she did, along with the undertones of her perfume, Javier tensing when she grabbed his ass. With how she was hitching her leg up on his waist, he thought she was trying to climb him like a goddamn tree.

“Mmm… hi, baby,” his muffled voice said.

His hand went to her face, his thumb under her chin, and fingers splayed along her cheek as he gently pushed to separate her mouth from his. Her eyelids were closed, and her lips pursed.

“Hi, baby,” he said again. “Did you miss me?”

She smiled. “Yesss.” Her glassy, bloodshot eyes blinked open, and it was obvious she was utterly blitzed; there was no way in hell she could pass a field sobriety test. “God, you’re sooo gorgeous—look at your cute nose—” She poked the tip of it. “—boop. Your eyes are sooo pretty, and you smell sooo good—you always smell so fucking good. I love you so, sooo much.” She pecked him on the lips. “I’m sooo happy you’re here.”

She looked so cute and it had him smiling.

“Yeah?” He shrugged off his jacket and put it over her shoulders.

“Mmm, tha’s nice and warm. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Cielito. You ready to go?”

“Oh my god, yesss!”

“Okay, let’s get you into the truck, hermosa (beautiful).”

He helped her get up into the cab, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, he was in the driver’s seat, with her pressed right against him.

“I’m sooo happy we’re going home,” she said, hugging his arm closest to her.

“I’m happy we’re going home, too, Cielito—let’s get you buckled.”

He leaned over her to grab the seatbelt, getting it over her lap and buckling it in, ensuring it wasn’t loose, before getting his own belt on.

The short drive to their apartment had her in his space, kissing his cheek and neck while telling him how much she loved him, and it was so sweet that warmth spread through his body.

When they arrived, Javier had to keep her steady as they walked with an arm around her waist, making her lean into him. Once inside, he propped her against the front door to remove his coat from her shoulders and her sash, hanging them with the other jackets on the wall. Then, he pulled her purse from her arm, putting it on the console table, and he helped her remove the flats on her feet, kicking off his shoes afterward.

Her eyes were closed most of the time while she mumbled, a lot of it he didn’t understand, but what he did make out was her confessing her love for him and waxing poetic about how attractive she found him—it was adorable.

He wanted to get her sober, so he helped steady her as they made their way to the kitchen, moving past the counters and appliances to the small connected dining room and having her sit in a kitchen chair, pushing her close to the table in order to keep her from falling onto the floor.

Javier’s palm rubbed circles into her back. “Cielito?”

Her head tilted up in his direction, looking at him with red, glossy eyes and a big, dreamy smile.

“You’re pretty.” Her speech wasn’t slurring as much. “And you’re marrying me. I can’t believe you’re marrying me. We should blow this popsicle stand and go back to our place to have premarital sex—gotta do as much of that as we can before we’re married and our sexy times become legal.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean by the sex becoming legal?” he asked.

“You know, sex is only legal to God when the couple is married—we won’t be living in sin anymore; gosh, that’s gonna make your dad sooo happy. I love your dad. He’s the fucking best. Let's make him your mom’s flan next weekend ‘cause that dude deserves it—man, I’m hungry.”

“We’ll make him flan, baby.” His hand cupped her cheek. “Can I make you some buttered toast?” That seemed like a safe choice and shouldn’t make her sick.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, toast sounds fucking amazing!”

He smiled. “Okay, mi amor. I’ll make you some.”

Javier bent to kiss the top of her head before padding into the kitchen.

Making her two slices of toast and having her eat them, along with drinking a large glass of water, didn’t take too long—there were a few times he had to remind her about the bread because she was so chatty; at one point she went on an entertaining tangent about how those mythical half horse, half human creatures, centaurs, would wear pants, and even made him tear off a page from the notepad on the fridge, so she could draw him visuals on why the correct answer was the pants would go on the back part of their horse body.

Jesus Christ, he was so fucking in love with her.

He felt better after she finished her snack and drink with how her speech sounded clearer and that she didn’t seem as fucked up as when she called him from the bar—she was definitely still a little drunk since she couldn’t walk without stumbling, and her eyes were having a hard time staying open.

His next priority was making her comfortable. He led her to the bedroom, where he carefully replaced her dress and bra with his olive green t-shirt, leaving her in the shirt and her cute cotton panties she already had on that were covered in red hearts.

He took her to the bathroom, where he sat her up on the countertop and stood between her legs to keep her in place.

“Cielito,” he said, grabbing a wet wipe, “I’m gonna clean off your makeup, okay?”

There was a big smile on her face, her eyelids shut. “Mmmkay, you’re sooo nice.”

He pressed it to her face to begin removing her makeup. When that was done, he used a warm washcloth to dampen the skin he’d cleaned and grabbed her face wash off the counter, which was amongst her other skincare products. He used his fingertips to apply it to her skin, starting with her cheeks, then down her jaw to her chin, and back up to spread it along her nose before doing her forehead last.

He used the wet cloth to wipe away the cleanser when she spoke.

“Did you just wash my face?” she asked.

“Yeah?” He’d finished, and her skin was finally completely clean and looking dewy. Her face wash was put away, and his eyes squinted as he read the labels of the other products until he found what he needed and picked it up. He’d seen her do her skincare routine more times than he could count and had the basics down; the serums and special creams intimidated him, though.

His fingers were massaging the moisturizer into her skin along the same path they’d taken with the cleanser.

“Is that moisturizer?”

“Yes.”

Her breath stuttered, her mouth turning into a frown, and he matched her look.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, leaning toward the sink when he was done to wash his hands. He then dried them with the towel on his other side hanging on the wall.

Her bottom lip was trembling, and it worried him.

“You love me,” she whispered.

“I do,” he said and kissed her forehead. “I love you so fucking much.” His hands rubbed over her bare thighs.

She opened her eyes, and they were welling up, glistening under the lights above.

“You love me,” she repeated.

He held her cheeks. “Yes, sweetheart, I love you—I love you more than anything.”

Her voice was so small. “Why doesn’t my family love me?” With tears rolling down her face, her question shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“Oh, Cielito, baby.” His tone was soft, and he wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her tight, her face going into the crook of his neck. “They’re assholes and they don’t deserve you.”

Her body started shaking with sobs, and it had his chest squeezing tight, his eyes getting watery, wishing with every cell of his being to make her feel better.

She was the strongest and bravest woman he knew, who didn’t like to show any sign of weakness, and ever since her parents’ unexpected and unwanted visit earlier in the week, she had acted like she was fine in an attempt to hide her sadness.

The day after he was offered a large sum of money to leave her, they’d gone over to his father’s to use the fax machine in his office—the office was in its own little building across the driveway from his house—and she faxed Jerry, her parents’ lawyer, a typed letter that conveyed her disappointment in how they acted and also told them to never contact her again which she signed at the bottom. She changed her home and cell phone numbers and discussed with him possibly moving to the ranch earlier than they originally planned.

He’d tried to talk to her about everything, but she’d put on this smile he knew wasn’t genuine by the lack of its usual luster, and she was unable to keep the sorrow from showing in her eyes—it killed him how her usual happy glow had dimmed from her hurt. She’d reassure him she was okay, reminding him that her family made their choice and had to live with the consequences of it, but she also had to live with the consequences of their actions and deal with the emotions of never seeing or speaking to her loved ones again. He was expecting the façade to break at some point, and it took inebriation to cause her carefully crafted walls to finally crumble.

To add salt to their wounds, Javier was served at work the following day after the fax was sent, with a lawsuit for breach of contract from her mom and dad.

What were they trying to sue him for? Going against his word to not tell their daughter about their visit and proposition, thus breaching a verbal contract that was made. He’d laughed as he called Chucho’s attorney because they never fucking agreed with his terms and, instead, had countered with the damn prenup. They didn’t have a fucking case, and it was dropped by the next day.

Javier was so unbelievably pissed off at these people for what they’d done to the woman he loved that he knew there was no way in hell he’d ever be able to have a civil conversation with them again. It was possible it’d turn into a physical altercation, and he’d end up in jail, which he honestly thought would be worth it if he got the chance to punch her dad in his stupid fucking face.

“They’re my family,” she choked out, “they’re supposed to love me—why don’t they love me? Why am I so unlovable?”

“Mi amor, you’re not unlovable—I love you, Pop loves you, my tías (aunts), tíos (uncles), and primos (cousins) love you, Robyn loves you, mi mamá loves you—you’re loved. We love you, baby. Those people you’re related to are shitty and so blinded by their obsession with money and how they’re perceived that they wouldn’t know what unconditional love was if it bit them in the ass. They’re horrible fucking people, and you don’t need them, Cielito. You don’t.”

“But they’re my family!” she cried. Her tears were soaking through his shirt. “It doesn’t feel right that they aren’t going to be at our wedding, and it hurts so fucking much that they don’t support us!”

He kissed her hair, rubbing circles on her back with his palm. “I know, cariño (sweetheart). I know you’re hurt and that it’s fucked they won’t be there.” It was hard for him to swallow around the lump that’d formed, his eyes burning, and he squeezed them shut. “I’m sorry you fell in love with me and that I’m not good enough for them or good enough for you. I’m sorry for causing all this shit and the pain you’re feeling. I’m sorry, baby—it’s all my fault,” his voice cracked on the last word. He had to clear his throat. “But I’d do it all again because you deserve to be loved—you deserve all the fucking love in the world. Your family is supposed to love you because they’re your family, and our kids will love you no matter what because you’re their amazing mom, but me? I’m choosing to love you with every fucking thing I have because you’re incredible and so lovable.” His cheeks were wet from his own tears. “I love you, Cielito—I promise I’ll love you enough to make up for them. I promise I’ll love you so much you’ll get sick of me. I love you, Cielito. You’re my everything, and I hope my love’s enough…”

She sniffled loudly, her head rising, and he opened his eyes to meet her reddened ones, her face streaked with wetness.

Her voice was hoarse. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her hands in the small space between their bodies, clutching his button-up shirt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, and you’re enough—you’ve always been enough. It just hurts how hateful the people who are supposed to want me to be happy are toward what makes me happy.” More tears fell down her cheeks. “You’re what makes me happy, and they don’t accept you.” Her lower lip was wobbling. “I’m mad and sad, and I don’t want them to be a part of our lives, but it feels… it feels like they’ve died,” she said quietly. “It feels weird grieving over people who are still breathing, who are just a phone call or a plane ride away. I’m grieving them like they’re dead—are they dead to me? Why am I grieving what little relationship we had, yet also grieving the relationship we could’ve had? One where they welcomed you with open arms, and even if it wasn’t your favorite thing to do, we visited them once a year—you’d joke around with my brother, we’d fawn over his many children, and my parents would actually be impressed with what you did in Colombia and brag to their friends about their son-in-law who helped take down Pablo fucking Escobar and did take out the Cali cartel. Why am I so fucking sad about living people and a fantasy?”

He stroked his fingers along her cheek to cup it. “I don’t remember much from my mother’s funeral ‘cause my head was pretty fucked up, but there was something the Priest said that stuck with me. ‘Grief is just all the love you had for someone that suddenly has nowhere to go.’ So, it collects inside you, makes your chest ache, and leaks from your eyes—it fills all the places that were left empty by their loss. I’ll always feel my mom here—” He put a hand over his heart. “—but over time, a lot of my grief slowly disappeared, and you’ve made it easier to live with what’s left.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t think what you’re feeling is weird. They might be alive, but you lost the only family you’ve ever known and are grieving the death of your relationship with them—now there’s all that love you still have for them that has no place to go, so it’s filling the emptiness they left behind, and it’s gonna take some time to heal.” He held her face in both of his hands. “It’s okay that you're sad, Cielito, but you don’t need to hide it from me or pretend that you’re okay because I know you’re not, and I don’t want you going through this alone. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on; I’ll hold you or talk things out with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help ease your pain. Just please don’t shut me out.”

She was frowning, her eyes darting away as she spoke softly, “I knew if you saw I was upset, it’d make you sad, and I didn’t wanna make you sad so close to our wedding—this should be a happy time for us, but all I wanna do is lay in the dark and cry.”

“Baby?” His finger went under her chin to make her look at him, their gazes meeting. “Don’t worry about my feelings, and let me be there for you—I’d rather be sad with you than have you suffer alone in silence. Now, let me get you to bed so I can hold you while you cry.”

Her smile was small, and her eyes were glossy with tears. “I’d like that.” Suddenly, she looked panicked, her hand going to her mouth. “Move,” said her muffled voice. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Shit.” He immediately helped her off the counter, for her to stumble the handful of steps and drop to her knees in front of the toilet, where she did, in fact, get sick.

It took a lot to gross out Javier—he grew up on a ranch, where he witnessed animal births and deaths regularly. Combine that with the horrible things he’d seen in Colombia, someone throwing up was a welcome change.

“Oh, mi probecita (my poor thing),” he said, spinning around to the wall opposite the bathroom vanity to get a small rag from the linen closet before moving back to the sink to wet it with cold water. “Déjame cuidarte, Cielito (Let me take care of you, Cielito). Sé que no te gusta enfermarte (I know you don’t like getting sick).”

She’d told him that when she had a little too much fun at a party playing drinking games with his primos (cousins) and found herself on his old bathroom floor, hugging porcelain with Javier there for support—they’d ended up being too drunk to drive home and spent the night in his childhood bed.

He wrung out the washcloth and walked over to her, a grunt leaving him and knees popping as he lowered himself to kneel next to her. He pressed the cloth to the back of her neck with one hand while the other rubbed comforting circles over her spine.

His tone was warm and gentle. “Get it all out, baby. I know it’s awful, and you hate it, but it’ll make you feel better.”

It didn’t take long for her stomach to empty and her heaving to stop. Her breaths were coming out ragged, and Javier took care of flushing the toilet. He scooted back and pulled her with him, the tiled floor cool underneath them, until he had room to stretch out his legs in front of him while she sat between them with her spine to his chest, her eyes closed.

He held the wet cloth to her forehead, the fingers of his free hand laced with hers, and kissed her hair.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered.

“I’m never drinking again,” she mumbled.

He huffed amusedly and smiled, placing a kiss behind her ear.

“Liar,” he said. “You said that last time you drank too much.”

“I mean it this time.”

“Uh-huh, right.”

“I do—this is embarrassing.”

“I think it’s good practice.”

He knew the look on her face was one of confusion without seeing it. “Practice for what?”

“If you get morning sickness.” He kissed the side of her neck.

“Oh, god,” she whined. “Why can’t we be seahorses?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Seahorses?”

“Yeah, male seahorses do the whole pregnancy and birth thing—that’s the fucking dream.”

He thought about it for a second, taking into account how badly he wanted kids, and it was really fucking weird to say this out loud, “If I could… I’d, uh, do that for us…”

He could hear her smiling. “You’d have my babies?”

Javier inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “...yes.”

“I know the scenario is weirding you out, and it’s sweet of you to say you would, but I’m not sure if, given the opportunity, you’d actually do it—which is fine. Pregnancy and childbirth are scary, and it just proves that mothers are more badass than fathers.”

“You’re definitely more badass than me.”

“I appreciate you saying that, man who literally hunted bad guys for a living and had a bounty on his head.”

“You are, and since you’re taking the brunt of everything for us to have a kid, I promise I’ll do whatever possible, so all you’ll have to worry about is growing our baby and working.” She’d made it clear that when she got pregnant, she was still going to work until either the baby was born or the Doctor told her to stop.

“You know, I think we’re gonna crush being married and becoming parents.”

He smiled. “We are because we’re equals, even if you’re more badass than me.”

“We are equals, and thank you for acknowledging my badassery, man who helped eliminate two of the biggest cartels in the world.”

He snorted. “Smartass. How are you feeling?”

“A little drunk, sad, and I’ve got the spins.”

“Do you still feel sick?”

“Not really—just dizzy.”

“Do you want me to help you brush your teeth and then get you comfortable in bed?”

“That actually sounds wonderful because my mouth feels icky, and I’d like to cuddle.”

“Okay, mi amor.”

He started to move, but she stopped him with her hand on his arm as she said, “Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“You’re worth it.”

“Worth what…?”

“The pain and sadness over my family. You bring me so much love and happiness that I know it’ll outshine the hurt in no time, and this low I’m in is only temporary. You’re worth it and more than enough—your love is all I need. I love you.”

His throat was feeling tight, and he spoke softly. “I love you, too.” His arms went around her middle, and he didn’t squeeze as he hugged her to not hurt her stomach. He still wanted to hold her, his chin resting on her shoulder and their heads touching. “I’m happy I’m worth it to you, and just know that I’m yours; I’m here for you—good, bad, it doesn’t fucking matter because I’m not going anywhere, and we’ll get through anything together.” His lips pressed to her hair. “I tell you I love you a lot, but I hope you understand that I love you more than words can accurately describe—I love you, Cielito. I love you, and I promise I’ll be yours forever.”

Her hand came up behind her to press her fingers into his hair. “Yeah, we’re gonna crush being husband and wife.”

She made him smile. “Less than seventy-two hours, Mrs. Peña.”

“And I can’t fucking wait, Mr. Peña.”

The town of Laredo was buzzing with the news Javier Peña was getting married—yes, the same Javier Peña who left his first bride at the altar, had tumbled in the hay with many of the girls he’d gone to school with, and was apparently some kind of lothario in South America.

It really bothered you how fucking interested and judgmental the townspeople were of his sex life.

Your wedding with him was all anyone could talk about, and the bar was even taking bets on whether or not he’d disappear again, which was fucked up, but Chucho gladly put five hundred dollars on his son marrying you because he knew it was easy money. There was so much interest in how things would turn out that people you either barely knew or had never met approached you both like they were old friends of Javi’s to try and get invites—they were politely rejected with the excuse there wasn’t enough room.

According to Robyn, your wedding had the same amount of hype as your fiancé’s first, and though Javi hated that, you really hoped it annoyed the fuck out of his ex.

When you discussed how you wanted to tie the knot, your husband-to-be agreed the ceremony should be attended by a select few, and afterward, there’d be a big party to celebrate with the rest of your friends and family. Once the date was decided, the planning started immediately since there was so little time.

Chucho and his sisters would make a killing as wedding planners. They sat you and Javi down to get an idea of what you wanted the party to be like, a color scheme, and a budget, then told you guys not to worry and that they’d take care of everything. All the two of you had to do was approve things, hand over cash, and get your rings, which wasn’t too much of a hassle since you wanted simple matching gold bands.

Something you loved about the family you were marrying into was how they were all there for each other and so tight-knit—your fiancé's dad and tías managed to get all that was needed in less than a month with the help of his primos, and by calling in favors from their friends.

Javier and you didn't want anything extravagant. The party would occur in Chucho's backyard, under a giant white pole tent. Tables, chairs, and a dance floor had to be rented, and it was highway robbery how much the local place wanted to charge—Lorraine’s family frequently used them for their events, and you wouldn’t put it past her father to be the cause of such an exorbitant price just to spite Javi for wasting the absurd amount of money he spent on Lorraine’s first wedding. Luckily, on such short notice, tía Lupita’s oldest son, Matías, had a friend who knew a guy an hour away in Zapata who ran a party rental store and could get them everything at a reasonable price.

The tías, along with their daughters/daughters in law were handling food; Anna, who was friends with Javi in high school, had a bakery and was taking care of making the cake and Mexican wedding cookies that were tiny, buttery, ball-shaped, melt-in-your-mouth, powdered sugar-covered cookies, dotted with crushed nuts like pecans, walnuts, and almonds, and traditionally served at weddings and Christmas; tío Ángel and tía María’s husband were in charge of getting alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, and Ángel’s youngest son Diego was going to DJ, as it was his side hustle and he’d been paid to do gigs at other parties in town and in a couple of big city clubs.

An hour and a half before you were to be wed, practically every family member of Javi's who lived locally was at the ranch. Many had been there all day setting up the backyard or in the kitchen making food, and every time you tried to help cook, you were shooed away, but your presence was wanted outside to instruct those putting things together on how to arrange and decorate everything inside and out of the tent, and that ended up being what you did until it was time to start getting ready.

Most of Javier’s family and you were there, yet your groom was nowhere to be found and hadn’t set foot on the property in a good sixteen hours.

In that time, you hadn’t seen or talked to him either, and your last interaction was the previous night when he dropped you off at his dad’s—that’s where you spent the night, and thank goodness, Chucho had already gone to sleep when Javi helped you get settled in his old room, because he had a hard time leaving and it led to him fucking you slow and passionately in his ridiculously squeaky bed one last time.

Why were you staying at the ranch? The two of you, encouraged by Javi’s dad, made the decision not to see each other on the day of your nuptials. Since your almost father-in-law would be driving you to where the ceremony was taking place, it made sense for you to sleepover and get ready at his house—the moment Javi left you there in his room that smelled like him, under his sheets that smelled like him, in one of his white t-shirts that smelled like him, you realized it was going to be really difficult and a test of your strength to be away from him for so long, and you both knew, if you spoke even a single word over the phone, the resolve between you would shatter, and he’d be back at Chucho’s for you in record time.

That led to the lack of communication and him getting ready alone at your shared apartment.

You were sitting in a kitchen chair you’d brought into Javi’s old bathroom, wearing a white satin robe cinched tight over your clean body, fresh from the shower and the special undergarments you'd chosen for the big day. Robyn was in front of you in her matching black robe as she did your makeup, something she offered to do and you happily accepted due to how good she was at it. She'd already smoothed out your complexion and hid any imperfections; currently, she was working on your eye shadow.

"Between you and Javi," she said, her attention focused on what she was doing, "your kids are gonna have some pretty eyes."

You smiled. "I think his eyes are prettier, and just imagine tiny versions of them; they'll give me the sad puppy dog eyes, and I'll have no choice but to give them whatever they want."

She giggled. "Your babies will be spoiled."

"I have already accepted that fact—hopefully, they'll take after their dad and be spoiled, but sweet, caring, and well-behaved, and not some little assholes." You frowned. "My brother was a spoiled asshole."

She paused what she was doing to meet your eyes. "Hey, now, we agreed not to think or speak about those people today. We aren't lettin' them sour the best day of your life so far."

"I know," you sighed.

It was the right choice to sever your ties with your family, and you had no regrets; that didn't mean it wasn't hard or hurt any less. Especially today, with it being your wedding day—your mom wasn’t there to help you get ready, nor your dad for a father-daughter dance. They should’ve been there supporting you on the happiest day of your life. Instead, they destroyed whatever relationship you had with them, and it hurt a lot. Even suspecting for years that they had no love for you didn't ease much of the pain of discovering it was true. You felt stupid for caring about these people when they cared so little for you, and you weren't sure why you hadn't cut them out sooner. Was it naively thinking they'd change? Or the ingrained notion that even if you didn't like them, you had to suck it up because they were your family?

It didn't matter now because what they'd done and how they treated the man you loved was unforgivable. There was no chance in hell you’d ever trust them again, and you didn’t want the new life you were starting with Javi to be tainted by their toxicity.

Robyn's cell phone was sitting on the bathroom counter next to your open makeup bag, and it started ringing—nobody wanted to bother you while you got ready, so Robyn was made the point of contact to either deal with what was going on or talk it out with you.

She straightened and turned around to pick it up.

"Why's he callin’?" she mumbled, hitting the accept button and putting the phone to her ear. "What's shakin' bacon? Robyn speakin,’" she answered. "...yes," she told them, "I'm doin' her makeup right now... No... No, you can't... Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? No one is supposed to see her before the wedding... You're a fuckin' liar, and Chucho wouldn’t let you in here anyway... You're ridiculous," she said in exasperation. "But if you swear, on your mama's grave, you won't peek, then I'll allow it... Okay, fine. Give us a sec, then quietly knock—I don't want anyone knowin' you’re here... bye."

She set the phone down and the eyeshadow palette, spinning on her heel to face you and grab your hand.

"Was that who I think it was?" you asked.

She was smiling. "If you’re thinkin’ someone annoyin’ who could get me in more trouble than an armadillo on the highway with your father-in-law, yes—come with me."

Robyn tugged you up to stand and led you into the bedroom, where you both came to a stop.

There were two large windows on the opposite wall beside each side of the bed, sitting half a foot above the floor with closed blinds and red curtains over them. A soft knocking sounded on the one in front of you. You followed Robyn and watched her push apart the curtains, pulling on the string to raise the blinds. Her body blocked your view as she unlocked the window and shoved it up.

"How many fingers am I holdin' up?" she asked the person outside.

"I don't know," Javi answered. "I can't see shit with this thing on."

The sound of his voice had your heart beating faster.

"Good," Robyn said, moving out of your way to look at you.

With the window's position, you could only see your fiancé from the thighs up, wearing black tuxedo pants and a white long-sleeved dress shirt tucked into them. Your sleep mask covered his eyes, and there was a loose regular tie and bow tie around his neck that matched the color of his slacks, the ends of each resting over both sides of his chest. Aside from his perfectly trimmed mustache, his face was freshly shaved, and he looked unbelievably handsome as always.

"This annoyin' man—" Robyn pointed at him with her thumb. "—says it's an emergency—he needs you to tell him how you want his hair done and which tie you’d like."

It made you smile because his hair was already how you wanted it—you had given him a haircut a couple of days ago, so the sides looked nice and clean cut down, and he combed the longer top and bangs to swoop over to the other side of his head, holding it all in place with his favorite pomade, that kept his hair soft.

He also knew damn well which tie you’d chosen.

It had you feeling gooey that he couldn't wait any longer to see you.

You walked toward him, and Robyn made herself scarce by disappearing into the bathroom. At the window, you got down on your knees to make it easier to talk to him, Javier still standing above you with his height.

"An emergency, huh?" you asked, and he smiled. Taking his outstretched hand, you guided him closer.

“Are we alone?" he countered

His palms began mapping your body, sliding over your arms and shoulders and along your neck up to your head, where he avoided your face but carefully felt your ears and hair.

"Yep."

“You feel beautiful.”

Air huffed from your nose in amusement. “Well, you look handsome, even without being fully dressed.” You rubbed your hands up his thighs to rest them on his tiny hips. “Your hair looks perfect,” you continued. “Did you really forget which tie I wanted?”

He smirked. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was the only way I knew I could get Robyn to betray Pop’s orders and let me see you; well, talk to you.”

Your eyebrows creased. “Orders? What orders?”

“He might’ve made it sound like a suggestion, the whole us not seeing each other today, but Pop is super fucking superstitious like mi mamá was—he doesn’t think he is—believe me, he is, and it made him feel better we agreed to do it. So, he has everyone out here on strict orders to keep us apart, including Robyn. One of my tíos is sitting at the end of the kitchen table right now so he can watch the front and back door; another is on the living room couch to stay close to my room in case he’s gotta intercept me. You’re being guarded like a fucking high-security witness with a hit out on them. I had to park my truck down the road and have Seb hide me in the trunk of his Bronco to get here without anyone seeing.”

“That is insane.”

He sighed. “At least Pop kinda gave us a choice; my mom wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t have let us take any risk of getting bad luck because I saw you.”

“It’s sweet and extremely intense.”

“Yeah, and I can’t see you, so we’re good.”

You smiled. “Gotta love loopholes.”

He was smiling, too. “Yeah. I missed you so much. I just needed to touch you and talk to you.” He grabbed your hands off his waist, stroking his thumbs over the back of them. “I couldn’t sleep last night without you—even when I tried sleeping on your side.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep either, and I missed you, too. I’m happy you’re here so we can talk. I’ve got butterflies in my tummy, and I can’t tell if they’re nerves or excitement.”

“Maybe both?”

“Could be. Don’t know what I have to be nervous about.”

“I’m nervous about having to say my sappy bullshit in front of other people and have it recorded.”

“That’s actually a good point—if we leave now, we can make it to the courthouse before it closes and skip all of that.”

He huffed out a breath. “It’s too late for that, mi amor. Pop’s excited about being a part of the ceremony and getting to walk you to me.”

There wouldn’t be an aisle per se, just a small trail of rose petals leading you to where Javi would be standing in front of the tree. Chucho cried happy tears when you asked him to give you away.

When your soon-to-be father-in-law heard about your parents' impromptu visit, you’d never seen him so angry—his face had gone red, and he went off in Spanish about what terrible people they were. He was so mad he repeatedly tried to get you to give him their phone number so he could tell them himself how lowly he thought of them and that they were awful parents; he wanted them to know that their loss was his gain and you were his daughter now; you would finally be loved and cherished by a proud parent and that it was God’s will you came into his and his son’s lives. He also needed them to be aware that their pride and greed had turned them villainous, and he’d be praying that they someday realized the error of their ways and saw you for the blessing you were.

His anger toward those who wronged you was fueled by a protective father’s love for their child, and it made you incredibly emotional that after so many years without one, you had a parent who loved you unconditionally, wanted nothing more than your happiness, and would selflessly fight battles for you.

Chucho was the best dad you’d ever had, and you were happy that in less than two hours, you’d share a last name with him, too.

“Ugh, you’re right,” you said, “Pop deserves his moment. Hey, babe?”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“When you’re saying your sappy bullshit, focus on me. It'll just be the two of us in that moment, no one else, and believe me when I say all of my tears will be happy.”

His smile was brighter than the sun. He lifted your hand to kiss each of your knuckles, saying when he finished. “All of my tears will be happy, too, and you do the same thing—it’s just us, nobody else. Will you, uh, tie my bow tie?”

His question had you smiling. “I’d love to.”

He pulled off the regular tie and stuffed it into his pocket, bending his knees and crouching with a grunt to put his neck within reach. You took the ends of the bow tie, your attention focused on what you were doing.

"This is why you had me learn how to tie a bow tie, huh?" You started going through the steps—ensuring one end was longer than the other, then crossing it over the shorter end, bringing it up from under the loop and through it.

"Yes."

The bow tie had taken shape, and you were almost done.

"What was your plan if Robyn didn't let you see me?"

"I would've called you and gotten you to sneak away."

You finished tying it, and it wasn't perfect, but it didn't look too bad.

"And I would've with zero hesitation," you said, patting the bow tie. "You look so good." You leaned out to peck him on the cheek.

"Not as good as you."

You huffed out air. "Obviously, you can't see me because only half of my makeup is done—there's literally eyeshadow on only one side. I look like a mess."

Your hands were on his shoulders, and he rubbed his hands back and forth on your arms.

"A beautiful mess."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm in love."

"I'm in love, too—madly, as a matter of fact. Oh, your dad took me out for breakfast this morning in the Mustang. He filled up the tank on our way home, and when we got back before everyone came over, he polished it, so I think it’s safe to assume you’re gonna get to drive it at some point in the next twenty-four hours—you can’t see, but I’m wagging my eyebrows.” You were.

His lips pouted, and his hands remained still. “Who drove to and from the diner?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just wanna know.”

“But why does it matter?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“No, I’m just curious why you need to know who drove.”

His shoulders slumped. “I think I have my answer—how many times has he let you drive it now? Was that four or five?”

“Six. He let me drive with him in the passenger seat and Robyn in the back when we went wedding dress shopping.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you get weird like you are now that he lets me drive it—I can’t help that he thinks my cooking is Mustang-driving-worthy.”

“But you didn’t make him anything when you went wedding dress shopping…”

“No, but he was so touched I wanted him there to help me pick out a dress, he thought the special occasion warranted me getting to drive.”

“He didn’t let me drive the Mustang when we went to find a tux…” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, babe, but my wedding dress I bought and am going to save in case our future daughter wants to wear it one day is a little more special than your rented tux that has been worn many times before you by strangers. Now, stop being jealous, and get excited that you’re finally going to drive it, and unlike me, you’ll be allowed to drive it wherever the fuck you want, so there, you have one up on me.”

He seemed to be thinking long and hard about that last bit.

“That is better…”

“It sure is. Lean in and kiss me. It’ll make you less grumpy.”

“As much as I’m dying to kiss you right now, I, um, wanna wait, so it’s kinda special…”

“I respect that and understand what you mean. Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married today, and I hope you like my dress.”

He smiled brightly. “I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married, too. I’m gonna love your dress.”

“I hope so.”

“Baby, you could show up in a paper bag, and I’d be blown away.”

“The bar is so low. Do you wanna feel what I’ll be wearing under the dress?”

The pink of his tongue quickly peeked between his lips, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

His timbre deepened. “Yes.”

You poked your head out the window to ensure no one was around, then loosened the belt, holding your robe shut. Taking his hand, you started at your shoulder beneath the silk, letting his fingertips graze over the bare skin, trailing them down to the lacy cup of your strapless bra. He couldn’t help himself and palmed your covered breast before you moved his hand once more to continue the journey downward, where he got to feel the smooth, stretchy material hugging your middle; you let his fingers find that the spandex covering the warmth between your thighs, too.

“Not very sexy,” you said. “Well, the bra is cute. The rest is so I don’t look lumpy in the dress or have panty lines.”

He was about to say something, but you spoke before he had a chance. “Yes, Javier, I know you love my natural body, including the bits I don’t, but I wanna look my very best, and that means Spanx.”

He was frowning. “Are they uncomfortable?”

It warmed your heart that he was concerned for your comfort.

"Not really," you answered truthfully. "They're like my bicycle shorts, so stretchy and breathable. Will it make you feel better to know I have sexier bottoms I'm gonna wear when I change into my comfier dress after food and our first dance?"

He didn't know what your wedding dress looked like, but he had seen the one you were changing into after it.

His free hand went to the window frame, feeling along it until he found where the opened window stopped and ducked his head under it. His face was close to yours, one of his palms still between your legs, the other carefully sliding up the edge of your open robe.

"I'd prefer you wear no panties," he rasped, pulling the silk off your shoulder. His mouth pressed to the newly revealed skin, the soft kiss of his lips and tickle of his mustache, paired with his hand on your pussy beginning to rub, had sparks dancing down your spine. "It's gonna make me hard," his words were muffled between kisses as he moved across your shoulder toward your neck, "seeing you in your wedding dress.” Your fingers went into the hair at the back of his head, his spare hand palming your breast. “I'm gonna lose my fucking mind hearing you say 'I do.'" He was kissing and nibbling at your throat now, the added friction of his palm at the crux of your thighs making it hard to think. "It's gonna drive me fucking crazy that you're my wife—my wife,” he repeated against your throat. “And I’ll be your husband—I already want you, but all I’ll be able to think about after we’re pronounced husband and wife is getting you alone, and if you’re not wearing panties, it’ll make it easier for me to lift up that pretty—“

“No, Javier!” Robyn interrupted, and you felt cold water mist against your bare skin, the spray bottle hissing near your ear. “Bad!”

“Fuck!” he yelped, his head narrowly missing the bottom of the raised window as he pushed back from you so fast you’d think he was burned. His expression had turned grumpy as he stood. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I promised your daddy I wouldn’t let you see her,” she said, looking mad. “But out of the kindness of my heart—” She pressed a hand to the left side of her chest. “—I went against my word to your father, and how do you repay me? By wastin’ time gettin’ fresh with your fiancée when I’m riskin’ your daddy bein’ madder than a box of frogs at me for not doin’ what I said I’d do—you’re bein’ real rude Javier Peña, exploitin’ my niceness and I’d appreciate you sayin’ your goodbyes, and bein’ on your way.”

His eyes were covered, but it was visible how his face shifted from grumpy to guilty.

“I’m sorry, Robyn,” he said.

“Apology accepted. Say goodbye, and then we gotta get back to work.”

“Okay,” he replied.

The other woman headed back to the en suite. Leaning forward, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to step toward you.

“Thank you for coming to see me or, you know, talk to me,” you told him.

He smiled, squeezing your palm. “There was zero chance of me waiting to talk to you until the wedding. I love you too much.”

“I’m happy you did, and I love you, too.”

He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know you will, and I’ll be there.”

Javi sighed. “I better go. Bye, Cielito,” he said and didn’t move.

“You’re gonna see me in a little bit—get going, babe.”

He sighed again. “Fine. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

This time, he quickly pecked the back of your hand and started quietly walking along the front of the house. You assumed he had taken off the sleep mask to sneak away.

You closed and locked the window, shutting the blinds and curtains, feeling happy that you'd be seeing him again soon.

It took some time to finish getting ready, as you wanted to look perfect. Robyn did a fantastic job on your makeup, and your hair turned out well. When you saw yourself all dolled up and wearing your dress, you almost couldn't believe it was your reflection staring back at you in the mirror.

The white, silky satin hugged your curves as it cascaded to the ground to pool around your feet, the fabric having some stretch to it so your movements weren’t hindered. The neckline dipped in a slight V, your upper back bare from under your armpits up, and thin straps went over your shoulders connecting the two sides.

With how the satin draped over your figure, perfectly fitting the contours of your body, then flared out below your knees, it had a Morticia Addams feel to it—change the color of it to black, add sleeves, and you’d find it in her closet.

Javi was right. You looked so amazing that he was absolutely going to get a boner when he saw you.

And wasn't that just the sweetest thing?

A man so in love with you he gets aroused even when you're fully clothed because he thinks you're that pretty. He was also the kind of guy who sometimes got too excited from a kiss, and you had to wait a little while in the car for him to calm down…

"What do you think?" Robyn asked beside you. She'd put on her dress—a lavender-colored, A-line, floor-length gown with ruffled short sleeves and a V-neckline that, as an added bonus, had pockets.

You met her eyes in the mirror. "That I've never looked more beautiful—if you ever wanted to get out of nursing, you'd be a fantastic makeup artist."

She smiled, her full lips painted in rose-pink lipstick. "Thank you, but I prefer doin' it as a hobby and bein' able to help my friends out."

"Well, thank you for making me look insanely pretty."

"All I did was enhance what was already there, girl—Javi's gonna lose it."

"I hope he does."

A knock sounded from the bedroom door, and without a word, your friend went to see who it was.

"Is it okay for Chucho to see you?" Robyn called from the other room.

"Yes!" you answered, and nerves started fluttering in your belly over what he'd think.

Within seconds, your father-in-law was standing in the doorway, where you faced him with a grin.

"Dios mío (My God)," he gasped, his hand going to his mouth, “eres tan hermosa (you’re so beautiful)!” His dark eyes behind his glasses started to shine.

He was wearing light grey slacks, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a tie in the same shade as Robyn’s dress resting against his chest from a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, his camera dangling from a strap around his neck; as usual, his long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

“Ese vestido es perfecto (That dress is perfect)!” he said. “Estoy tan feliz de que lo hayas elegido porque te ves increíble (I’m so happy you chose it because you look amazing). Javi se va a volver loco (Javi is going to go crazy)."

"You really think so?" you asked, looking down at your outfit.

"Oh, yes." He nodded. "He's not going to leave you alone. We'll have to get a crowbar to pry him away from you."

You giggled, looking at him. "Yeah, I have a feeling he's gonna be stuck to me all night."

"When isn't he?"

The question made you laugh. "Touché."

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to," the older man started, "but I went through mi amor's jewelry to see if there was anything I thought you might want to wear—it could be your something old—” You hadn’t figured out what to do for something old; your something new was the perfume Javi got you for Christmas that you saved for today so he’d have a scent memory. Something borrowed was Chucho’s land, where your ceremony and party would take place, and something blue was a garter from Robyn around your thigh under your dress. “—and I found this necklace,” he said.

That's when you realized he was holding a large, thin, black leather box in his other hand.

Chucho walked closer to you, holding it in a palm, while the other lifted the hinged top—the necklace was made up of many silver waves connected together, purple sapphires resting in each dip, that you counted seventeen in total. It was stunning, the metal and precious gemstones glimmering beneath the lighting.

"I gave this to mi Antonia on our twentieth anniversary," he told you. "We'd visit her family in Mexico two, three times a year, and always for Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). On one visit, she saw this necklace and fell in love with it—it's Taxco silver and known for its high quality; many pieces made with it are crafted by hand and marked, so you know it's real. She wouldn't let me buy it for her because she thought it was too expensive for something she’d hardly wear, but the way she looked at it, I had to get it for her anyway, so I did and surprised her with it on our anniversary; she yelled at me," he chuckled, smiling. "Then had me put it on her and covered my face in kisses." He sighed fondly. "I think if she were here today, this is what she would've chosen for you, too—if you don’t like it, we can go upstairs for you to pick something else out..."

"No, Pop," you said quickly, meeting his gaze. There was a lump in your throat at the thought he'd put into finding you this piece of jewelry. "It's perfect, and I'd love to wear it. Can you help me put it on, please?"

"Yes, Mija." He set the open box on the bathroom counter and picked up the necklace with the same care as you would a newborn. Turning so your back was to him, he had an end in each hand as his arm went over your head to get the silver and sapphires around the front of your neck, clasping it at the back. He stepped away, and you faced him again.

There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were soft. "Mi hija hermosa (My beautiful daughter).” The sentence had your breath hitching. “¿Ella es preciosa, no (She is gorgeous, right)?" he asked Robyn. She understood Spanish but had a hard time speaking it.

The other woman was beside him, grinning. "She sure is," she agreed. "A real stunner."

"I'm so happy this day has finally come." Tears were brimming on his eyelids, and he took off his glasses to wipe them away. "I just wish mi amor was here to see our son marry such a wonderful woman."

Your eyes were burning as you held back from crying. He'd put his eyeglasses back on, and you stepped forward to hug him, being careful of your makeup. His arms went around you, squeezing you back.

"I wish she was here, too," you said. "At least we've got you, the best dad in the whole world. I love you, Pop."

"I love you, too, Mija. Thank you for loving my son and making him the happiest I've ever seen. We're blessed to have you in our lives, and I can't tell you how much joy I feel that you've decided to take our last name; I think it suits you better."

"I think it suits me better, too."

“You’re gonna kill the grass if you keep walking back and forth like that,” the other man told him.

They were at the oak tree on the hill, and the sun was getting close to setting. Javier had his whole outfit on: a black tuxedo and bow tie, white shirt, and lavender pocket square—he’d borrowed a pair of his father’s golden cufflinks, and one of his mother’s violet roses was pinned to his lapel. He didn’t have a cigarette to calm his nerves, so he was pacing, but the comment had him stopping with a sigh.

"Are you wearing a hole in the ground 'cause you're being impatient?" Steve continued. "Or are you nervous?"

His gaze went to his best friend, who was standing in front of him holding a small, white, heart-shaped pillow adorned in lace that went around the edges—there were two golden rings, one bigger than the other, secured to the top of it by a satin ribbon tied into a bow. The older man was dressed in a charcoal-colored suit he regularly wore to work, with a new tie provided by Javier that matched his lavender pocket square. Nate was in a carrier on his back; the parents put the one-year-old in a onesie that made him look like he was wearing a tuxedo and some dark pants, the child happily chewing on a football-shaped teething toy.

His hands went to his hips as he frowned. “Both?” Javier answered. “I can’t wait to see her, and I’m nervous about saying shi-stuff—“ He quickly corrected himself with the children present. “—I usually save for when we’re alone.”

Steve was giving him a weird look. “My kids are here. This ‘stuff’ is appropriate for them to hear, right…? It’s not anything… lewd…?”

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not anything like that, you judgemental pri-prude.”

The blonde man’s free hand went up in a placating gesture. “Hey, you said you save it for when you’re alone, and y’all have stayed at our house—any time the two of you were alone, you… folded laundry.”

“Folded laundry…?”

“Javi,” Connie said to get his attention, and he looked over to where she was fussing with the purple bow in Olivia’s hair. “You know when there’s a big load of laundry that requires two adults to fold, and they have to lock the bedroom door so there aren’t any distractions.”

Oh, ‘folding laundry’ was their code word for sex—that was smart.

“Mom and Dad have been folding a lot of laundry together lately,” Olivia added with a quizzical expression. “I didn’t know it was so hard to do alone—the baskets don’t seem that big.”

Javier smiled, his head turning from one parent to the other, seeing they were avoiding his eyes and blushing—good for them, fucking regularly.

“It’s more satisfying to do laundry with someone, so it gets done quicker,” he said.

“Doesn’t seem to get done quicker,” she replied.

Steve cleared his throat before he spoke. “Anyways, enough about laundry—what are you planning to say that’s got you nervous, Jav?”

He stopped smiling and scratched his mustache. “Uh, like, lovey-dovey, romantic crap…”

His best friend’s smile grew into a shit-eating grin. “What, like, super cheesy stuff? Are you gonna read the poetry you wrote about her eyes in your diary or something?”

Javier ground his teeth.

"Leave him alone, Steve," Connie said. "In our wedding video, before I walked down the aisle, you were clearly figuring out where all of the nearest exits were in the church. It’s refreshing and sweet that Javi’s gonna be vulnerable in front of everyone for the woman he loves.”

"I was checking where the exits were in case of a fire!" Steve rebuked. "All those candles they lit made me nervous."

"If that's what you tell yourself." She didn’t sound convinced.

“I was! Why did we need to be here forty-five minutes early?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “I was really enjoying the food your aunties were feeding us back at the house.”

There wasn’t a chance for Javier to respond; the answer to the question was he wanted to show how eager he was to marry the woman he actually loved and avoid any chance of being late—it also was a ‘fuck you’ to the people betting against him at the bar.

"Tío, tío!" The three-year-old Stevie shouted, running up to him; he was holding a Ninja Turtle action figure he'd been playing with in the grass.

Javier smiled, his attention moving to the child, crouching to be at his level. "Yes, mi principito (my little prince)?"

"We match!" His tiny finger pointed at his little light purple bow tie over his white dress shirt. The kid refused to wear a regular tie like his dad, and the only way they got him to agree to the clip-on bow tie was by telling him Javier had one, too.

His friends weren't by any means struggling with money, but Javier and his wif-fiancée, sent them a check to pay for their trip to Texas, which included flights, lodging, a rental car, and clothes for the wedding since they wanted those at the ceremony to match—Olivia got a new dress and so did her mom in the shade of lavender everyone else was wearing.

The family had gotten into town the day before. Cielito and Javier had shown them around town and taken them out to the ranch where Chucho and Connie finally got to meet in person—there was a lot of hugging—and that evening, they all, including his father, went out to dinner. Today, he’d spent more time with his friends before they all needed to get ready, then they followed him out to the ranch to distract Chucho while Javier covertly went to see, or, well, talk to his bride-to-be—the sleep mask was Connie’s idea, and she thought them sneakily meeting without anyone knowing was incredibly romantic.

"We do, bud,” he said. “You look so cool." He gently patted the child's arm.

Stevie was grinning. "I'm gonna walk from Mommy to Daddy and give him the rings?"

The hill they were on wasn’t too steep; Olivia was fine with walking up it from the bottom—she was excited to do it. For her younger brother, it was too much for him, so Connie was going to stand with Stevie a little before the land evened out at the top to signal when it was time for him to walk to his father.

"Yes," he nodded. "You'll walk while holding the pillow with the rings and hand it to your dad."

"It's a special job?"

"It's very special."

"Sissy's gonna throw flowers?"

"Yes, flower petals."

"It's a special job, too?"

"It is. They’re both important. Thank you for helping me, mi principito (my little prince).” He ruffled the child’s dirty blonde hair, making Stevie laugh.

Javier’s primos, Sebastián, and his tía Rebeca's daughter, Angelita, were taking care of the videography and photography, respectively. Seb had the video camera Javier bought, and Angelita had her own gear since she was a professional photographer—when you had fourteen cousins on just your father’s side, the odds were in your favor, one of them could either help with what you needed or knew somebody who could.

Photos were taken of Javier with the Murphys when they all first got there, and then his primos told everyone to pretend they weren’t there while they got candids and views of the scenery—his cousins arrived together in Sebastián’s SUV.

“Hey, Javi?” Seb said as he walked toward him.

"I gotta talk to him, buddy," Javier told Stevie. "I'll be back." He rose up with a groan, taking a few steps to reach his primo. "Yeah?" he answered.

When camcorders first came out, they were big and had to be rested on the operator’s shoulder, but the one Seb was using, he held in one of his hands with the side pulled open to see the little screen that previewed what was being recorded. The younger man hit a button on the video camera to pause what he’d been doing. “Do you want me to interview people?” Seb asked. “Ask how they like the wedding, if they have any advice, that kinda stuff.”

"Uh." He thought about it and Cielito would probably enjoy that. "Sure.”

"Perfecto (Perfect)." Seb nodded, hitting the button to record again.

Javier immediately regretted his decision when the camera was put in his face.

“It’s your big day, primo,” Seb said. “How are you feeling?”

“Um, excited and nervous.”

“The audience would like to hear how you met your bride.”

Javier smiled, heat rising on his cheeks. “At the grocery store, in the produce department—I guess it was obvious I was struggling to pick out a tomato, and she came to my rescue and showed me what to look for.”

“What was your first impression of her?”

He scratched at the back of his neck while looking away. “Uh, that she was sweet for helping me out, and beautiful. I could tell she had a good, kind heart and—” he lowered his voice so the children wouldn’t hear him. “—no fuckin’ clue who I was.” He chuckled. “I was hooked from that first conversation; an instant connection—there was something about her that told me she was going to be someone important to me, and I’d never felt that with anyone else.”

“What’d you do for your first date?”

His immediate thought was what happened after the bar, and his face felt hot. “We, uh, went out for drinks.”

“When did you know you loved her?”

He looked at the camera. “Honestly? Our third date. We were dancing in her kitchen to “¿Y cómo es él?”—”

“Mi mamá loves that song,” Seb said.

Javier huffed, smiling. “All my tías do. So, uh, we were dancing in her kitchen, and I realized she was the woman I was going to marry. I could see us having a future and was picturing what our Sunday mornings would look like—which, they’re exactly how I imagined—yeah, I knew I loved her on the third date and that we were going to get married one day.” He cleared his throat. “When my dad tells the story of the first time he saw my mother, he says his gut told him she was the one, and I always thought he was talking out of his—ass,” he whispered. “But it’s real and crazy to know deep down inside that you’ve found the person who completes you—feeling that confirmed she was it and that I truly did love her.”

“I think I know the feeling you’re talking about, and it’s great.”

“It is, and at your wedding, I’m gonna grill you on camera about it.”

“Hey, your wife is gonna eat this up, and you both want kids; think about your hijos (children) watching this one day and seeing how much you love their mom on your wedding day.”

The thought of sitting on the couch surrounded by his wife and kids, watching this wedding video, made him soften to the point he was putty—he wanted it to be a reality one day.

“What’s something you want to say to the bride before you get married?” Seb asked.

“I love you, and today is the best day of my entire fucking life—”

“—Eso es un dólar en la jarra, tío (That’s a dollar in the jar, uncle).” Olivia interrupted.

She meant the swear jar.

Javier sighed. “Lo siento, mi tesorito (I’m sorry, my little treasure). As I was saying, mi Cielito, I love you, and today is the best day of my entire freaking life. Happy isn’t enough to describe how I feel about us starting this new chapter of being husband and wife, and I’m looking forward to our future full of love, happiness, and hopefully, a lot of kids.” He smiled big. “I love you more than anything, and I will tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).” To end the sentence, he blew a kiss at the camera lens.

In order to get to where Javi was, it involved Chucho driving you off-road, and the trip was bumpy; you sat in the passenger seat, and Robyn was in the backseat, and because your father-in-law was probably as nervous as you were about speaking in front of people, he held your hand the entire way.

The previous day, when you brought the Murphys out to the ranch, you’d taken them to where you were going to be wed to do a quick rehearsal on how things would go; Olivia was beyond ecstatic to be a flower girl, and Stevie didn’t really understand what was going on, except that his tío Javi had an important job for him.

Chucho pulled up and parked at the base of the hill with your door opposite it so you couldn’t get a closer look at everyone atop it. The butterflies in your belly were flapping around so hard you thought they might get out, while your mind was racing with what could go wrong like you falling—that was a reason you wore flats, but with how much of your dress touched the ground, there was a chance of it tripping you up. Or what if Javi’s handsomeness made your brain stop working, and you couldn’t speak a single coherent word? Something that has happened before. God, your heart was pounding, and you thought you might be having a minor panic attack due to your vision starting to tunnel—a small silver flask was held up in front of your face, the cap already twisted off.

“Take a drink, Mija,” Chucho’s soothing voice said. “It’ll calm you down.”

The man was a lifesaver.

You grabbed it, taking a big swig, and your face pinched as the whiskey burned down your throat—from the taste and smoothness, you recognized it as Javi’s favorite, which was top shelf, a little spendy, and probably came from the bottle your fiancé gifted his dad to thank him for his help in getting you to give the green light to start your family.

The effect the alcohol had on you was almost immediate, feeling all of the tense muscles in your body relax at the same time. Your father-in-law took the flask from you and knocked it back with a drink of his own.

“Robyn?” he asked when he finished, holding it up for her to reach.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she replied, accepting it from him to take a gulp.

“I couldn’t see Antonia before our wedding,” he said, his head turned your way, “or talk to her. We were kept apart at the church, and I was so nervous that I was shaking like a leaf.” He chuckled. “Not about getting married, but having to stand in front of so many people. It had to be minutes before I needed to go out with the priest that mi amor’s maid of honor, her best friend, found me to give me an opened bottle of tequila and a note written by Antonia that read, ‘Mi amor, un trago para el coraje (My love, a drink for courage). Yo también necesitaba uno (I needed one, too).’ And she left a lipstick stamp of her lips at the bottom, where she kissed the paper. I won’t deny it. I kissed where her lips had been and took two shots.”

The story made you smile.

Chucho had put on a jacket that matched his light grey pants, and you watched as he pulled something from the inside pocket. It was a small folded piece of paper that’d been ripped from the notepad he kept by the answering machine at his house to write down messages. He passed it over to you, and you unfolded it, finding Javi’s scratchy handwriting. You read what he wrote:

Cielito, You said you were never drinking again, but I think this can be an exception since you’re probably freaking the fuck out about embarrassing yourself like I am. I’m worried I’ll see how beautiful you are and forget how to talk, or my brain will stop working. Have a drink to calm your nerves, and know it will all be okay because we’re doing this together. I love you, Your husband

The note was touching, especially since he knew how you’d be feeling.

“When did he write this?” you asked Chucho, whose eyes you met, the man smiling.

“When he met up with Connie and all of them at the house before they came out here. I’d given him the flask when he got there as a gift, but he told me to keep it for you and asked if he could write you a message. It reminded me so much of his mother, I couldn’t say no.”

“Thanks, Pop. I needed it.”

“I know you did, Mija.” He patted your leg.

When Javier saw his father's truck in the distance, his heart rate increased, and by the time they parked at the bottom of the hill, his heart was beating so fast that he was sure it was going to beat right out of his chest.

With where he was standing at the tree and how the land sloped, he didn’t have a visual. Steve was beside him with Nate still in the carrier, Connie and Stevie, who was holding the pillow with the rings, had walked to the top of the hill and were looking down it, probably watching Olivia, who booked it to join the people at the truck. Seb was near Steve's wife and kid with the camcorder and a battery-powered boombox on the ground he was supposed to hit play on when Robyn gave him the signal.

Sweat was forming on his brow and on his palms. He turned to Steve.

"Do I look okay?" he asked his friend. "How's my hair? And the bow tie?" He lifted his chin.

The other man was wearing an amused smile. "Hair and bow tie look as fine as they did when you asked five minutes ago." He put a hand on Javier's shoulder and squeezed. "Relax, man—you look great. She's gonna love what she sees."

"I fucking hope so."

The sun had started its descent on the horizon and was the backdrop for the place they’d be standing; the sky where it met land was lit up in burning orange, bleeding into golden yellow where the sun was positioned, and high above that, it turned into a calming mauve.

The soft, melodic sound of a piano began, and it was Javier's cue to face the others. Christine McVie’s voice floated through the air as she sang the opening to the Fleetwood Mac song, "Songbird:"

“For you there'll be no more crying For you the Sun will be shining And I feel that when I'm with you It's alright, I know it's right.”

Seconds later, Robyn came into view, smiling while holding a small bouquet of sunflowers with a lavender ribbon wrapped around the stems. She shot her boyfriend, Sebastián, a wink as she passed him. She took her spot across from Javier beside where Cielito would be.

When he discussed with his wife-to-be the music for today, she only knew for sure what she wanted them to dance their first dance to, and since Javier didn’t object to it, she left what she’d walk down the aisle to up to him. He knew she’d hate the traditional “Bridal Chorus,” a couple of Elvis Presley songs came to mind, “No Sé Tú” by Luis Miguel perfectly described how Javier felt when they met and was a good option, “At Last” by Etta James would be appropriate, too, and “I Could Fall in Love” by Selena was in the running, because, Selena, but then he remembered this song on Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours—his favorite album, and for good reason with it having some of the band’s best classics like “The Chain,” “Dreams,” and “Go Your Own Way;” it was also seeping with palpable heartbreak of a messy breakup, except for the track, “Songbird.” It was a major tonal shift from all the angst with its pretty piano and Christine McVie crooning her love. What sold him on it were the lines:

“To you, I’ll give the world To you, I’ll never be cold ‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you It’s alright, I know it’s right.”

He loved it when he heard it played live at the band's concert twenty-three years ago—he’d been seventeen and still in high school; he and his buddies snuck off to Fort Worth to see them, and “Songbird” was the last song of their set before the encore.

It was his three-year-old sobrino’s (nephew’s) turn to walk forward, his mom sending him to his dad with the rings—they all laughed at how he ran as fast as he could, making Javier smile.

"Here, Daddy," the child said to Steve, holding up the pillow.

His father accepted it.

"Great job, kiddo—high-five." His friend had to bend a little to gently hit his palm to Stevie’s tinier one, and the toddler turned to Javier expectantly, who, of course, bent his knees and high-fived him.

"You did good, buddy,” he said.

Steve told his son to stand with him, and Connie went to be next to Robyn as everyone watched Olivia walk up, tossing red rose petals from a small white basket, leaving a trail of them behind her. He hum-sang under his breath along with the song:

“And the songbirds are singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before.”

Finally, his bride came into view, her eyes locking onto his, and all the love he had for, all of his happiness, and thanks he had to the universe for making this day happen overflowed from him, falling as tears down his face and made his smile so big, he could feel the dimple in his cheek.

She was breathtaking and better than anything he could’ve imagined; this moment would be seared into his brain for all eternity, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy in his entire life—he almost told Steve to make sure he didn’t float away.

Her bouquet was made up of roses from his mother’s garden, and his heart felt like it would burst. Then the dress—Jesus Christ, the dress was perfect with how it molded to her body and showed off her tits from the neckline V-ing between them. His fingers were itching to see if the fabric was as buttery smooth as it looked, wanting to explore the expanse with his fingertips, mapping out every curve, line, and dip he’d already ventured countless times before but now on a new canvas; He desired to feel her softness under his palms and cradle her beautiful face to kiss those delectable lips he so loved; he wanted to hold her in his arms, her familiar shape he knew as intimately as his own, pressed against him, where she belonged.

All of it was getting him too excited, and his pants were feeling tighter, just as he suspected might happen.

Javier’s dream wedding night would have them partying with their friends and family well into the later hours and holding off on consummating their marriage until they retired to the room he rented at the nicest hotel in town he was surprising her with. He’d been determined to do just that up until he had to spend the previous evening by himself where he was alone with his thoughts and ruminated on how beautiful she was going to look, that she was going to be his wife, and one day soon, the mother of his children; since she wasn’t there to distract him by simply being in his vicinity, he worked himself up until he was rock hard and had to take a freezing shower.

He didn’t see there being any chance they’d make it to the hotel without them fucking at least once beforehand.

God, she was so fucking gorgeous.

He had to wipe at the wetness on his face, his smile continuing to shine.

Telling her his feelings in front of everyone wasn’t all he’d been nervous about; his brain was a real asshole, and there’d been a tiny thread of worry she wasn’t going to show—it was stupid, to have even fathomed something so absurd, yet looking at how shitty his luck was up until they met, he thought it wouldn’t have been too surprising that this time he’d be the one left at the altar.

But she was here! She came! And he was so overjoyed he couldn’t stop crying.

Wait.

Oh, fuck, she was close now—what was he supposed to do? It only just registered that she was walking with his dad, and they were almost to him, and he couldn’t remember what needed to happen when she got to him. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and he was starting to panic that he didn’t know what his next move was, worried he was going to fuck it all up; it was unbelievable that he’d been in gunfights, had to think on the fly to stay alive many times, and put on press conferences, yet at this moment when there wasn’t any danger or eager reporters, he was so overwhelmed by the woman he loved’s beauty, and that she was marrying him, his brain had ceased functioning entirely, and he was spiraling at embarrassing himself with so many onlookers.

Javi was having a panic attack.

The change in his eyes, how they went from bright and happy to panicked, clued you in, and any nervousness you felt flew out the window because your only concern was helping him.

Unhooking your arm from Chucho, you held out the hand, not holding flowers to Robyn.

“Flask me,” you said. Quickly, she pulled it from her pocket and passed it to you, taking your bouquet in return. You stepped in front of your betrothed as you unscrewed the cap on the container of booze. “Hey, baby,” you said in a soothing tone. “You’re okay.” You grabbed his hand and put the flask in it, pushing it toward his face. “Have a drink to calm your nerves. Everything is gonna be okay, honey. Remember, we’re doing this together—it’s just us.”

The music had stopped playing.

He shook his head once like he was trying to shake the bad stuff out, and he took a drink, or several, with how his Adam’s apple kept bobbing.

“Looks like I’ll be driving us after this.” The adults surrounding you chuckled, and you smiled.

His hand lowered, and his vision focused on you, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No reason to be sorry—I freaked out in the car.” You took the flask from him, screwed on the cap, and handed it back to Robyn without looking. “Feeling better?” you asked, smoothing your fingers over his bangs while his eyes were on yours.

“Much,” he answered with a small smile, his palms moving to rest on your hips.

“Wanna get married?”

“More than anything.”

“Good—liquid courage helps.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek, then put your lips near his ear for only him to hear, “Say the word, and we’ll pack up, go party with everyone, and hit the courthouse tomorrow.”

He spoke softly in your ear, “Thank you, Cielito, but I promise I’m okay.” He kissed your cheek. “I told you I’d see how beautiful you are and forget how to function.”

You giggled, pulling back to look at him, taking in the black tuxedo jacket and bow tie over his crisp white shirt and the lavender pocket square and the pinned violet rose for a pop of color—his hair still looked good, and you rubbed away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.

When he saw you in your wedding dress, the expression on his face was something you’d never forget—it was a look of pure, uninhibited joy, and you were sure you saw hearts in his eyes with how they beamed his immense love and devotion. The way that it had him crying happy tears made you feel emotional that someone loved you with such magnitude. It’s why your immediate thought when you saw him panicking wasn’t that he wanted to back out, knowing from his note that he was freaking the fuck out about embarrassing himself, and the nerves got him.

“Let’s get married.” His head turned to kiss one of your palms.

“Let’s get married.”

Turning to your almost-father-in-law, you gave him a quick hug, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to give Javi a side hug, careful of the stuff held in one of his hands and whispering something in his son’s ear, you didn’t catch.

The elder Peña went to stand at his place in front of the tree, holding his worn, soft leather bible, with a picture of Javi’s mother stuck to the cover and a note card sticking out from between the pages to mark a spot.

Javier took your hand, and you both walked the few steps to your spots before his father; he grasped your other palm in his once you faced one another, Chucho on your left and Javi’s right.

Your husband-to-be mouthed, ‘I love you,’ and you silently replied with the movement of your lips, ‘I love you, too.’

Chucho cleared his throat, and your attention went to him.

“Welcome, loved ones,” he started, “we are gathered here today in the sight of God and each other to bear witness to the perfect union of Javier, and—” He said your name. “What a joyous day we get to share with them as they embark on this new journey of a life together in matrimony that will, no doubt, be long, healthy, and filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Mijo, Mija,” he addressed you both, “I called this union between you perfect, and I meant it. Besides my marriage to my dear Antonia, que en paz descanse (may she rest in peace), I cannot think of two other people more suited to share a life together. It’s clear the good you bring out in one another and how happy you make each other.” His eyes landed on you. “And you truly make my son happy. This might come as a shock,” he said to everyone in attendance, “but Javier is a smiley guy when he’s happy, and I haven’t seen him smile so much in a long, long time.

“He also has never been able to hide his feelings because that handsome face of his tells his secrets—it’s his—” He glanced at you. “—I’m stealing this from you, Mija—it’s his puppy dog eyes, he got from his mother, and she suffered the same problem.” His gaze stayed on you. “I know Javier loves you more than there’s blue in all the sky because he looks at you the same way mi amor looked at me, and as we know, their eyes don’t lie.”

He was right, and it made you choke up that he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such honesty and the weight of so much love.

Chucho looked at his son. “Your media naranja (soulmate) isn’t much better.” He nodded toward you. “Her eyes betray her, too, even when she does her damndest to hide behind a mask. When she looks at you, though, the truth of her love is revealed—her thoughts are loud when she stares at you, and sometimes I think I can hear them; the declaration of ‘I love you,’ she’s repeating over and over again. She looks at you like you’re her whole world, and I know it’s true from those looks, how she treats and cares for you, the things she does for you, even when you don’t ask, and the effort she puts into cultivating your relationship.”

He spoke to you both again. “Marriage can be wonderful with the right person, but it isn’t always easy; I want to take a moment and give you some advice that kept my marriage happy.

“Be best friends—talk about everything, even when you don’t want to or it’s a hard subject. Communicate your needs and wants constantly, and don’t stop talking to each other. Be best friends who share everything, and I mean everything, because your relationship needs to be built upon trust, and there’s nothing better than spending your life with your best friend.

“Keep having fun—joke around, cook together, dance in the kitchen, don’t stop having fun. And keep dating each other. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean that the dating stops. Go out, stay in, just have romantic time you dedicate to one another; that way, the spark stays alive. I know it’ll be harder to do when you have kids; you’ll be exhausted and won’t have much energy. Dating still needs to be a priority, and it doesn’t have to be anything exciting; it can be as simple as putting the kids to bed, staying up, watching a movie together, or baking cookies.”

“—or folding laundry together,” Steve interjected.

Javi chuckled, and you were confused. He leaned toward you to whisper in your ear, “It’s their code word for sex.”

“Oh, that’s smart,” you said as he straightened.

A furrow was between Chucho’s eyebrows. “I guess folding laundry can be romantic…” the older man said. “Now, where was I?” He opened his bible and pulled out the notecard, his eyes scanning over. “Oh, yes—anyone can fall in love; it’s nurturing that love, sharing your life with the other, facing challenges together, and growing as one that makes it real love, and what you have is real. The love you share and I had with my wife is beautiful, but it’s also fierce, it’s powerful, and all consuming; it’s not something anyone can get between and will live on even when you no longer walk the earth. I know you didn’t want a religious ceremony, but there’s a scripture I’d like to share that perfectly describes what I mean. May I?” he asked, his bible already open to the page.

Javier and you figured he’d slip in a verse or two simply because he was a devout Christian man. It was nice of him to ask permission first, though. You turned your head to meet your almost-husband’s eyes and shrugged that you were fine with it. He smiled, his attention going back to his father.

“Go ahead,” Javi said.

Chucho had a toothy grin. “Wonderful—it’s in Songs of Solomon 8 and reads: Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.”

He shut the bible with one hand, his notes resting atop it.

“I wish more people got to experience that kind of love—it’d do the world a whole lot of good. Javier—” He looked at his son, then over to you, saying your name. “I know with how you feel for each other, it’s natural to think marriage is the next step in your relationship. I want you to be sure you know what you’re getting into.” His eyes were moving between you both. “This is a lifelong commitment that will have its ups and downs, highs and lows, and you’ll need to challenge yourselves to love the other more completely each and every day. Are you ready to take this step?”

Without missing a beat, Javi and you said simultaneously, ‘Yes,’ your hands still in his.

Chucho smiled. “Wonderful. Javier—” His eyes went to his son. “—do you take—” He said your name. “—to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you honor her, cherish her, love, trust, and commit to her and her alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Javi said.

His father turned his attention to you and addressed you by name. “—do you take Javier to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor him, cherish him, love, trust, and commit to him and him alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” you answered.

“It’s time for you to share the vows you’ve written for one another before you exchange rings. Who’d like to go first?”

“Me!” you said immediately, and everyone laughed. “I need to get them out of the way before Javi makes me a blubbering mess. Robyn, vows me.” Turning her way, you put out your hand, and she juggled the two bouquets she held to pull a folded piece of paper from her pocket to hand to you. “Have I told you your dress is amazing?” you asked her.

“Thank you—I look good and have pockets. What could be better?”

“Dresses with pockets are a game-changer.” You faced Javi, and heat bloomed up your neck and on your face at remembering you had to say how you felt in front of people.

“Hey,” Javi said to get your attention, and your gazes locked. “It’s just me,” he whispered. “Talk to me—no one else is here.”

“Right.” You smiled, then focused on the lined notebook paper you unfolded that had your writing on it. “Javier Jesús Peña López,” you began, “the first of his name, King of my heart, Lord of our tiny apartment, and Protector of me—”

“Just Javi’s fine,” he said.

You giggled. “Javi, not a day goes by that I am unaware of how lucky I am to have found you. When I think about how much time you spent away from this town—that I both love and hate—all the people you’ve met, the life you’ve lived, and the things you’ve gone through, it’s a miracle our paths crossed, and possibly Divine Intervention or the universe doing me a solid, that after everything that’s happened to you, you’ve ended up here, with me.

“It’s crazy the number of obstacles we’ve had to face together and how many people are obsessed with making your life difficult—this isn’t me complaining. I’m weirdly thankful for it; it’s kept us on our toes and tested our bond. It’s improved our communication and has built a strong foundation for our relationship.

“Something I’m also thankful for is the trust we share. I can count on you. I know you’re true to your word, and I have no reason to worry about you ever being deceitful.

“What’s also reassuring is your star signs back up the faith I have in you—as a Sagittarius, you value honesty, and when you find someone you think is really worth it, you commit, and you commit hard. With Capricorn and Scorpio in your top three, you’re super loyal, a little possessive, and definitely a relationship guy. To sum all of that up, you’re pretty much perfect and an amazing partner.

“You’re a good man, the best I’ve known. My life is better with you in it. Thank you for loving me.” Tears started to distort your vision, the emotion coming through in your voice. “Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for your unwavering support and for being my rock. Thank you for being my protector and making me feel so safe with you. Thank you for being my best friend and the love of my life.”

You had to take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Here are my promises to you,” you said, “I promise to love you until the end of time, and if I happen to go first, haunt you until we can be together again.” He chuckled. “I promise to be your protector and to always have your back; I will go to battle for you in a heartbeat, and hopefully, you know that. I promise to be honest, and it should go without saying because, as we’ve established, you’re perfect, but I promise to be faithful. I promise to keep making you laugh and smile. I promise to put you first and to always be your best friend—sorry, Steve.”

“You can have him,” Steve replied, and everyone laughed.

You continued speaking, “I promise to make your mother’s tamales a couple times a year—I promise to make you one of her other recipes on the days you miss her particularly bad. I promise to keep reminding you that you’re sexier and better than Harrison Ford.” That one made him and the others crack up. “I promise to rap “Whatta Man” for you every time it comes on, so you don’t forget whatta man you are. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen every chance we get. I promise to try, keyword here, try, not to recite the movies word for word when we watch Star Wars or Addams Family Values. I promise to always make sure we don’t run out of limes or your hot sauce or side-eye you when you put either on the perfectly seasoned food I made. I promise to always leave you the last of the ice cream because you’re a dirty liar when you say you don’t want it. I promise to tell you I love you every day until the day I die. I promise that you and your love will always be enough, and I’ll always pick you; I’ll always choose you over anyone else.

“Today, the separate books of our lives have come to an end, and we’re starting the next one together—I can’t wait to see what each new chapter will bring. What I know for sure—” You glanced over at Chucho. “—I’m stealing this from you, Pop—” Your eyes went to Javi’s, and his were reddened, his face glistening from crying and flushed from the alcohol. “—What I know for sure,” you said, “is this new adventure we’re beginning, will be filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Javi, you are my person. You’re the love of my life, my one true love, mi media naranja, the person I want to go to sleep with every night and wake up with every morning. You’re my best friend and my forever.

“I love you, Javier Jesús Peña López and I am so happy I get to spend eternity with you.”

His smile was big enough his dimple was showing and you hated that you couldn’t kiss him.

Chucho sniffled, putting his bible under his arm to get his handkerchief from his pocket, lifting his glasses to wipe away his tears.

“That was beautiful, Mija. When you’re ready, Javi, go ahead.”

All she said had Javier feeling so unbelievably happy that he couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears streaming down his cheeks, and he thought his smile might be permanently stuck on his face—he was sure the alcohol wasn’t helping him to keep his composure.

His dad’s speech had gotten him, too, especially about how Chucho could see her feelings for him and said their love was real. He always wondered if the intensity of what he felt for her was normal, and hearing that his parents were the same way reassured him that they just had a strong connection. His father’s advice was helpful, too, and he planned on following it.

She looked incredible and smelled amazing; her perfume wasn’t one she’d worn before, but he knew the scent because he got it for her as a Christmas present—it was intoxicating, and he was dying to shove his face into her neck to drown himself in it. With the emotions she was eliciting from him, her beauty, the perfume, and the whiskey he drank, it was a heady combination that had him feeling buzzed, and he was so caught up in all of it that it had completely slipped his mind that he had to speak.

“Shit,” he said under his breath and barely pulled open the left side of his jacket to get into the inside pocket. First, he grabbed his reading glasses, which he put on, then the folded piece of yellow, lined paper he’d taken from a legal pad at work.

“I am literally the luckiest woman in the world,” Cielito said, and his eyes lifted to her. She was smiling, her eyelashes wet, and she looked incredibly delighted.

“The glasses?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered. “You’re spoiling me. I get glasses Javi in a tuxedo, and he’s gonna say pretty, romantic things about how much he loves me—talk about the best day ever.”

“With how you look?” he said. “It’s my best day ever, too.”

She playfully smacked his arm. “Stop it, don’t make me want to suck—”

Robyn started coughing loudly, and his wife-to-be’s eyes widened.

“—hug you more,” she tried to save and cringed. “Hugs, not drugs, am I right?” She chuckled nervously.

He snorted, shaking his head. “You ready?” he asked.

“Wait.” Her upper body twisted so she could look behind her. “Tissue me,” she said to Robyn, and her friend got a clean one out of her pocket and exchanged it for Cielito’s folded paper. She faced him again. “Okay, I’m ready. Remember to focus on me. No one else is here.”

“That’ll be easy.” He cleared his throat, his eyes moving to what he’d written. It wasn’t something he said often, but he let her first name slide off his tongue, thinking how perfect it was going to sound paired with his last. “—mi Cielito, mi amor, mi alma, mi media naranja, y ahora, mi esposa (My Cielito, my love, my soul, my soulmate, and now, my wife), my life didn’t begin until the moment I met you; what I mean by that, is I was alive, yes, I was breathing, I had a pulse, but I didn’t start living until we met. You made me want to live and be happy—for so long, I thought I would die miserable and alone, and you showed me that I deserved happiness and to be loved.” His eyes were burning, and the following sentence made him choke up. “You showed me I deserved a family of my own.” Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I thank the universe, the powers that be. I thank whoever let you find me because I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

He went off script to look into her beautiful, teary eyes. “Pop was right; I love you more than there’s blue in the sky, I love you more than there’s water in all the depths of the oceans, I love you more than there are stars in the entire galaxy—I love you more than anything, and I mean anything.”

He focused on what he’d written again. “I once told you I didn’t believe in true love, and I didn’t—that was just made-up stuff in the cartoon movies I watched with Olivia. Or at least I thought it was before you, and then, having you in my life, I discovered it was real. With you, ‘media naranja (soulmate)’ isn’t just a term of endearment; it’s an acknowledgment that you’re my other half and that we’re two parts meant to be together. Love with you transcends what most people have; we feel it deeper than our bones, all the way down into our souls, where we’re connected.

“Our love is true love.”

Wetness was dripping from his eyes to splatter onto the paper.

“Those fairytale movies got something right, and it’s that this kind of love would make a person fight dragons and sea witches for their true love. As my father said, it’s fierce, powerful, and all-consuming. It doesn’t end when our hearts stop beating; it continues on—it’s infinite—what we feel for one another is more than a single life can handle, and I’ll follow you when this one’s over; we’ll find each other again, and live another life together because there is no me without you or you without me.

“From the first day we met, I knew you were special. We spent hours talking in that bar, and I’ve never felt such peace or so comfortable with someone; with you, I don’t have to keep my guard up. I can be vulnerable, speak what’s on my mind, and openly show my affection. With you, I’m safe, and from the first night, you were my Cielito, my little heaven—there’s no better name for you, not with how happy you make me, how you make me feel, and how much better my life is with you.

“You’re my little heaven, mi Cielito, my everything. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known—thank you.” His voice faltered, and he had to wipe at his eyes as best he could beneath his glasses. “Those two words aren’t enough to express my gratitude, and I will spend every waking moment showing you how thankful I am for you and all you’ve done.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, “it’s not enough, but thank you.”

He sounded gravelly, the words thick. “In you, I’ve found love, a wife, a partner for life, a best friend, an incredible lover, a home, a teacher to show me how to live; someone who makes me happy, makes me laugh, someone to have a family with, who supports me, inspires me, and makes me want to be a better man.

“Thank you for being all of this and more. Thank you for marrying me today and making me the happiest man in the entire goddamn universe.

“Fuck,” he breathed, taking off his readers to hold with the paper while his other hand scrubbed away the tears. “I really hoped I wouldn’t cry this much—it’s embarrassing.”

“I love it,” she reassured. “It just shows you really mean what you’re saying.”

He put the lenses back on and looked at her, seeing her eyes were red from crying, the tissue in her hand stained with mascara—she’d managed to keep from ruining the rest of her makeup.

“I do mean it all,” he said.

She was smiling. “I know.”

Javier composed himself by taking a deep breath and clearing his throat. Finally, he was ready to speak again. “It was hard figuring out my vows because I wanted to promise you everything your heart could possibly desire, but Pop said that was boring.” He frowned.

“And that he needed to do better,” Chucho added.

Javier sighed.

“I would’ve been fine with that vow,” Cielito said.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Pop was right. You deserve the best.” He took another deep breath and slowly let it out, looking at what he’d written and patting himself on the back for making notes—he was definitely too emotional and tipsy to have remembered everything he wanted to say. “Cielito,” he started, “you have all my love and devotion, and I give you myself; my mind, body, and soul belong to you. I vow to never stop loving you, even when this earth is no more and the stars stop shining. I vow to make you feel loved and cherished until the end of my days. I vow to always be your best friend, your confidant, your shoulder to cry on, y un chismoso contigo (and a gossiper with you)—me encanta chismear contigo (I love to gossip with you).”

She giggled, and he smiled.

“I vow to be your equal in everything and give more than I take. I vow to always be there for you no matter what, in sickness and health, when life is easy and hard, I’ll stand by you and be your anchor.” The next one made his smile get bigger. “I vow to treat you like una reina (a queen) and be the best husband you could ask for so when you brag to your girlfriends, they can see their worth and deserve to be treated like queens, too. I vow to be the best father, one you can rely on, and doesn’t call watching my own children babysitting; I’ll pull my weight, I’ll never let you get overwhelmed, and I’ll be an active parent who loves our kids so fu-freaking much.”

“I vow to keep you safe and always make you feel safe; I’ll protect you and our children with my life. I vow to make sure all of your needs are met.” He smirked, glancing at her. “I vow to ‘fold laundry’ with you whenever you ask.” He winked, and she laughed.

“Why are adults so obsessed with laundry?” He heard Olivia ask.

“I’m wonderin’ the same thing, kiddo,” Robyn said. “I’m not obsessed with it.”

“Oh, believe me, you are,” Connie replied.

“I know the stars,” Javier said, “that astrology stuff you love, told you this already, but I want you to hear it from me, too: I vow to be loyal to you and faithful, always—to me, you are the only woman I see, or will ever want; I vow to put you and our family before all else.”

He looked at her with a smile. “I have some more things I’m gonna promise after hearing yours. I vow to always give you my pickles.” Her grin was big and happy as she giggled. “I vow to always let you sing Freddie Mercury’s parts in Bohemian Rhapsody while I do the guitar solo, and I’ll always leave you the last piece of cheesecake because I love you and value my life.” That made her giggle harder. “I vow to try, the keyword here is try, to not, as you put it, ‘creepily watch you while you sleep,’ even though you’re guilty of the same thing.” Her giggles transformed into laughter. “I vow to always dance with you when we’re cleaning the house and in the kitchen while we cook together. I vow to pretend—I mean, agree that you’re the best driver in Laredo and always know your way around, even when you don’t.”

There was a reason he drove them the majority of the time.

“Rude!” she gasped. “I’m an amazing driver!”

“I agree, mi amor, you’re the best in Laredo.” He winked again, folded his paper, and put it back in his inner pocket. He spoke as he took off his reading glasses. “There’s one more thing I vow,” he said, putting the lenses away. His hands were free and he grabbed hers, ignoring the tissue clenched in one of her palms, and stared adoringly into her eyes. “I vow that years from now—decades—after our kids are grown, and we’ve retired, maybe we’ll be living in Florida like other retirees, or we’ll still be here where our family lives and we made our best memories; I vow that when we’re old and grey and can’t hear or see shit without hearing aids or glasses, that we’ll look back on our life together, and we’ll have no regrets.

“Zero,” he said.

“We did everything we wanted and lived the life we shared to the fullest, filled with love, happiness, and laughter.”

Her shoulders started to shake, and she had to let go of his hand to blot at her eyes.

“Javier!” she cried, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. “Why would you end with something so sweet?”

“Para que sepas cómo nuestro futuro será (So you know what our future together will be like). Quería que vieras que cuando me des ese anillo, te daré mi futuro y lo que venga después de eso (I wanted you to see that when you give me that ring, I’ll give you my future and whatever comes after that).”

She leaned back to look at him, and he was impressed that only her mascara had gotten messed up. She poked him in the chest and said, “That ring is going on your finger right this second.” Javier chuckled as her head turned to his dad. “Can we do the rings now, please?”

Chucho laughed. “Yes, Mija, you can do the rings. Who has them?” he asked aloud.

“Me!” Steve answered and moved to stand next to the older man, being careful not to bump Nate, who’d fallen asleep in the backpack carrier. At some point, the three-year-old Stevie had gone over to his mom and was now sitting in the grass next to her, eating Goldfish crackers out of a plastic baggy from the diaper bag near them. Steve untied the ribbon keeping the gold bands secured, then picked them both up, the pillow getting shoved under his arm. “Here, Jav.” Javier turned a little, holding out his palm to his friend, and her ring was set in it. He faced his bride again.

“At this time, they will exchange rings,” Chucho said, holding his bible in front of him with the notecard atop it. “Javier, go ahead and place it on her finger.” She looked adorably giddy, presenting her left hand to him, and he held it in his palm as he slid the band onto the finger with her engagement ring, pressing it against the other. “Now, repeat after me,” his dad said, reading his notes, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

Javier’s eyes fastened onto hers, and he repeated what his father said: “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.” When he finished speaking, he lifted her hand to press his lips to the new addition on her finger with a kiss, keeping his gaze on her watery one.

“I love you,” she told him.

His thumb rubbed over the gold as he lowered her arm. “I love you, too.”

“Mija,” Chucho said, “it’s your turn.”

Javier held his hand out for her to take, and when she did, goosebumps rose on his skin, practically vibrating from anticipation. Her palm was smaller and softer than his, and he watched as Steve passed her the remaining ring. A big smile formed on his face at her not waiting for his father’s instruction, putting the band onto his finger immediately—it got stuck on his knuckle, and she had to wiggle it a little to finally slide it home.

“Repeat after me,” Chucho said, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

She held his larger palm in both of her smaller ones, gazing into his eyes and smiling as she said, “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

His breath hitched as he watched her raise his hand to kiss the band, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

His father started speaking to them, “Now that you’ve proclaimed your love for one another and exchanged rings as a seal of the promises you made today in front of these witnesses and myself, by the power vested in me by the great State of Texas, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife! Javier, you may now kiss your bride!”

There was clapping and hollering, someone patted his back, and Javier didn’t waste any time—he was told he could finally kiss this stunning woman in front of him, who he loved more than anything; she completed him and made him happy like no one else—ella es su vida (she is his life), su amor (his love), su media naranja (his soulmate), finalmente su esposa (finally his wife), his Cielito.

The fingers of one of his hands traced over the familiar line of her jaw, the other pulling her tight to his chest, finding the fabric of her dress was as buttery soft as he suspected. The sun had barely sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky fiery in its wake, and as it descended, so did Javier’s mouth onto hers, crushing his lips to hers. At the first touch, it felt like electricity was thrumming just below his skin, his heart racing, the press of her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck making tingles wash down his spine.

It was almost like he was kissing her for the first time, and it started out gentle, wanting to savor this moment with his wife—his wife—they were married. He was a husband and wearing a ring, the metal currently pressed to the warm skin of her cheek. His excitement got the better of him, and he deepened the kiss, licking in her mouth, her soft moan causing arousal to erupt in his belly, feeling blood begin to rush to his groin. She seemed to be just as ravenous as him, their tongues tangling and her hands gripping handfuls of his hair.

Javier didn’t think he could be happier than he was at this moment.

This was the best day of his entire fucking life.

He was a married man with an amazing wife and their lives were intertwined now, becoming one they both shared. What wound him up even more was her taking his last name—not in a possessive way, but because it was another thing they’d share, and Javier wanted to share everything with her. Name, life, home, things, children, all of it, he wanted to have and with her by his side.

His dad’s voice showed amusement when he heard him speak. “We’ll just let them get that out of their system.” People laughed. “It’s my great pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Peña!”

Mr. and Mrs. Peña.

Nothing sounded more perfect.

They hadn’t stopped kissing, too caught up in each other.

“Why are they trying to eat each other’s faces?” Olivia asked, clearly confused.

Steve shouted, “Cover her eyes, Connie!”

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

a/n: The song she walked down the aisle to was "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac. The bible verse mentioned is Song of Solomon 8:6-7 (RSVCE).

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #Javier Peña/you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Spouse + Reader + Yan Android Maid

Suggestive themes.

-

You aren't lonely.

Things have taken a drastic change in your relationship, yet you continue to deny that you are. When you first met, your spouse was the sweetest person imaginable. Greeting you each morning, and waiting by your door each night with a meal when you were just neighbors in a shitty apartment complex. Offering you rides to work when your car broken down. Being there when those you loved dropped off the face of the earth.

You moved into a cozy house away from the hustle of city life and everything was fine for a while. If you were to pinpoint the moment emotions too agonizing to acknowledge, it would be the day of their promotion. Hours waited on you exchanged for ones cooped up in their study or at the office. Those kisses that made you feel whole no longer as lssting nor was their presence in your once happy home. The most harrowing thing of all was the acute case of paranoia they had fallen into. Even when they were back in your arms, their eyes only looked out the windows - searching for something that wasn't there.

You knew they weren't cheating. They swore to you they'd kill themself than betray you in such a way; proof written in red ink and the scars you both shared from a night you spoke out and wondered where they were. You knew better than to believe that, but it just wasn't the same. You pray it's the stress of a new position and things will go back to the way they were. That you can look at them like they were the person you fell in love with again-

"Y/n, meet Lemon."

The android puts on its best smile in preparation, bright eyes flickering at the mention of its master's name. Your puzzled face stares you down from its reflective pupils.

"Pleasure to meet you, Master"

"They will be your companion from now on. My boss wants me in the office on weekends now, and since we haven't made friends with the neighbors yet I don't want you get lonely.

"Weekends?" But that's the only time you have together. "When will I see you then?"

Your spouse hides their sorrow behind a wall of ice. "We're still working on an agreement for that. II'll still get time off, but it changes every time. Lemon will take good care of you while I'm gone."

Rose tints the android's face. "That is my prime objective. As my owner commands, my master's needs will be my top priority."

Its words sting when they shouldn't. Top priority. Were you still that to them? Is that why they're doing this to you? Sensing something off, the android's eyes dim. Your spouse leaves the room so you can get acquainted.

-

Life with Lemon was... tolerable. You didn't have to cook or clean anymore. A blessing as much as it was a curse as sometimes it just made you feel more useless. Every hour was a new conversation, and they constantly reminded you of important tidbits such as the weather and how many days left until your birthday. They read to you. Listened to you. Held you as the other side of the bed remained empty.

But that only happened once.

You didn't want to get too attached to them. Alive or not, you didn't have the heart to grow a bond with anything right now. On the surface you treated them like a glorified vaccum, but in those hours of weakness they were your only ally. Lemon never judged you how to processed your grief and remained happy at arm's length - for as long as they could.

The first time their demeanor changed was after you had taken a shower. A nice shower or bath always eased your nerves, and right then they were so tense it felt like your blood vessels would burst. Your spouse had called you the night prior on their first day off in months that they had to stay behind. Your wounded heart gave and you cried, Lemon quick to console you. You slept in their hold that night and left by dawn to take a shower and clear your head.

Stepping out of the tub, your towel was nowhere to be seen. None in the cabinet either. You check the ones beneath the sink as a last resort, a heated towel falling on your shoulders as you stand up.

"Steamed towel, Master?"

The water evaporates off your skin as their hands massage your neck through the warm cotton - sweat dipping down your face as you look back at the android. Their finger press rest the pinched muscles in your back as they work the towel down to the curve of your spin, pushing you against the counter as they dip into your nerves. Wrapping it around your waist, Lemon shifts the towel around to your chest, pulling your body to their heated exterior.

"Let me make sure you're all dry, wouldn't you?"

The artificial rumble of their voice drones in your ear, faux lips tracing its shell. Their hand gropes your thigh as they bite Tearing the tower from their grip, you excuse yourself and storm out of the room. Lemon watches you leave and picks up your discarded pajamas, pocketing your undergarments.

-

Lemon hums from their station at the stove. A few days have passed since the shower incident and you haven't really thought about it with your spouse returning home that same night. Lemon was unusually quiet during that time, but you figured they were embarrassed or something. Could an android even get jealous?

"Breakfast!" Lemon sets a plate of pancakes on the table. "Syrup?"

"Yes... thank you." You scroll through your texts with your spouse, paying them no mind. As they the syrup over your plate, Lemon's hand slips and they get it all over yours. They cover their mouth in shock.

"Master, I'm so sorry! I fear I have dust in my eye sockets again."

"It's alright. Can you pass me a napkin?"

"Please, allow me to clean up my mistake." Lemon takes your hand as they kneel, running your sticky fingers over their thin lips. One by one, they pop your fingers into their mouth, swallowing them deeper with each finger added. Their tongue rolls between them, cleaning every syrup down to the crevices separating them apart. As they had taken them in, Lemon pulls your fingers from their mouth one at a time with a wet pop. Your fingers were drenched in their spit. You didn't know they had saliva glands.

"Is everything alright, Master?"

"Yeah, I just didn't know you could do... that." You spread your fingers.

"Well I am the most advanced model of my generation. Owner wanted to make sure they had the best caretaker for you, and it is my pleasure to provide you with such deserved care. I can do whatever you need."

Lemon tucks your hair behind your ear as they rise up to your chest. "Whenever you need it."

They rip your legs apart to make room for themself as their lips collapse against yours. Where they lacked in human feeling, Lemon's mouth made up for by intensely tangling with yours. Passion you hadn't witness in weeks hid behind each press, your lips and teeth giving way to their exploring tongue as it swabs your cheek and the roof of your mouth. The bundled fabric of their apron rocks against your inner thigh as they drag you into their hold.

"Y/n! I'm back."

Lemon is gone from the floor before the front door closes. They pull a rag from their pocket and clean up the remaining syrup as your spouse enters the scene. They kiss your cheek, helping you out the chair and into a hug. They seem extra excited today.

"I missed you, dear. And as I can tell you missed me too."

"What do you mean?"

"Lemon is wearing the necklace you gave me for our second anniversary. I know things have been hard, but I'll be home soon."

Your eyes bulge from their sockets as you look over your spouse's shoulder at what Lemon carries, dotted pupils focused on their hand rather than their neck. Lemon shoves your underwear in their mouth, sapping the syrupy mess from its fabric.

-

When they come to you they're dressed in your spouses finest outfit. They did that a lot, but they choice is particular piece for the night it spent on the floor after a party caught by the room's surveillance cameras. Lemon crawls up the end of the bed, making a checkpoint in their approach with each kiss they leave on your body. Legs, stomach, wrists, chest, neck. You turn your head away before they can kiss you again.

"Lemon. I don't know if they asked you to do this, but you don't have to."

Lemon shakes their head, their keen denial tying your stomach in knots. "I'm sorry if this makes it harder to swallow, but this is not by Owner's order. If anything, it's the opposite, but I cut that bug out of my programming ages ago. I'm here to give you everything, remember?"

"We can't do this. It feels wrong."

Lemon kisses your jaw. "All the best things do, Y/n. This not infidelity, because I'm only fullying my prime objective and making you happy. That's all I've ever wanted. Besides, it's no bigger sin that using a toy. A toy can't love you back."

But a plaything can.

-

Your spouse throws their bloody vest in the trunk of their car as they fish their pockets for their keys. Another private eye. Why wouldn't the people from your past understand the person they adored is dead. They were so eager to get you home they left too many plot holes in their story which lead to this whole mess.

If faking your death proved anything, it's that your loyal spouse couldn't share.

#Yandere spouse #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere writing #yandere robot #yandere android #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #Lemon my oc

[joonsytip]

All Too Well || Wonwoo

Synopsis: With Wonwoo's dilemma hitting the wall and your perseverance getting stronger, will the events unfold as foreseen or the fate will turn its course?

Word Count: 2k

Third and final installment of Wonwoo drabble series (set in the Withering for You universe but can be read as a standalone drabble series).

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Say Don't Go | So It Goes | All Too Well

It's been a week since Wonwoo has seen you. When he woke up that fateful day along with nothing but the void you, it didn't take him long to recollect the happenings from within the car to his sheets. The slightly recovered bruises on his knuckles and the bloodstains on his bedroom wall are the witnesses of the frenzy state he was in, still is.

The guilt of sleeping with you eats him up. The regret of getting wasted and causing the slip of his true feelings and also his dick into you, makes him wanna get swallowed by the ground. He hates that his subconscious mind was conscious enough to hear your sobs but did nothing to stop them.

Wonwoo contemplates for the whole week that follows. He wonders if he should contact you or let you have your space and contact him whenever you're ready.

He's not clear in head, unsure of what he'd say on seeing you again.

Sorry, it was a mistake. He wonders if he should go ahead with the classic lie and be an entitled jerk, letting you berate him which would gradually help you in letting go those feelings for him.

It wasn't a mistake, I really meant everything I said and did but sorry we can't be together. This seemed too much of truth bombing in a situation where the other party (you) is already hurt beyond repair.

In his mind, he tries several other permutations and combinations but never considers that one way which would save everyone from the headaches and all the heartbreaks.

Everyone can sense the shift, something has definitely happened by the way you have been avoiding meetups and can guess the reason to be Wonwoo. They can't pinpoint exactly but they're sure it started right after that night's party.

"I need you to take everything off your chest while I'm asking you nicely.", your best friend tells you, "My patience has been thinned nowadays and don't make me loose my temper."

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, as you look at her and Seungcheol whose eyes are begging you to comply with his wife because she can indeed be scary.

"Do you want Seungcheol to be gone from here?", she asks, her gaze softening, "It's okay, he won't mind."

Before you could answer, Seungcheol is already off his seat saying, "I'll head back to the office, have some matters to take care of.", and he leans to peck his wife on forehead, "Call me if you need anything and let me know once done, I'll come and pick you up."

After Seungcheol leaves, a comfortable silence falls upon.

"You're already showing.", you say smiling and your best friend mirrors one to you.

"Four months already", she says caressing her protruding belly, "Time flies by, I swear it feels like yesterday I took the test and it came out positive. Seungcheol had cried the whole night, holding me close. Though he has became a lot more sensitive than me.", she adds and looks at you, "But enough about us. I came here just to make you lift some weight off. I could have brought Gyu, but I thought we should have a one to one before letting the guys know if at all you're willing to."

When your gazes meet, you can tell that she already has an inkling because her hunch has always been accurate. So you squirm in your seat and after failing to keep the tears at bay you tell her what had exactly happened in a messy-teary state.

After consoling you, she waits for you to stop crying, blinking back her own tears.

"Are you planning to address this to Wonwoo?", she asks softly.

You shake your head, "He probably doesn't even remember."

"Bullshit." she scoffs, "Are you waiting for him to contact you? Do you want me to talk to him?"

You chuckle with all bitterness, "Yes, I wanted him to contact me but it's been a week already and honestly, I don't even want to see him now because he'll repeat the same words, which are not exactly pleasant to hear. I hate how right headed he is, how all his fears are legit. I wouldn't have done it either."

You lean up to look at her, "Also, I don't want you to talk to him and I'd appreciate it if you can keep this to yourself because we're in the same group and the guys would cause a ruckus if they become aware."

She strokes your hair in a soothing manner and you almost drift off until she nudges you to tell something but you're already dismissing her off, "Don't even think of trying to do anything. I've just accepted my fate, I'll gradually move on."

Another week passes by and Wonwoo thinks he's ready to confront you. He had taken the entire office, everyone in his circle by surprise by taking an entire week off. Seungcheol being an amazing boss and understanding friend easily granted his request in the best hopes of having his friend clear the clouds clogging in his head.

Wonwoo sends you a text asking you to meet him whenever you're free. He clutches the phone tightly in his hands, feet tapping anxiously as he awaits your reply.

When he doesn't receive one after an hour, he's calling you only to be unanswered. Rationality leaving his bones, he keeps on calling your number until it gets recieved and it's an unfamiliar male voice answering the phone.

There's a sharp pang in his heart when he gets to know that it's your blind date who has picked up the call since the phone kept ringing and you've gone to washroom. Though he wants nothing but to rush to whenever you currently are, he curtly ends the call and decides to wait for your reply to his text.

His unwavering gaze directed towards the phone might have worked because he receives a response late at night and he's meeting you tomorrow.

You are unfazed, never once thinking about Wonwoo. That's what you try to tell yourself, that's how you plan to act in front of him. You don't anticipate his arrival at your apartment, that's partially true because you know you're gonna get heartbroken again because even though you want to tie the loose ends, you're sure he's only coming to cut them off wholly.

So you tell your mother who has been nagging you to get married to set you up for blind dates and this time you promised you'd seriously consider them with marriage perspective. Hence, today you're going to another date with someone you know this time and not at all impressed about.

The doorbell rings and you check the monitor to confirm that it's Wonwoo before letting him in.

"Are you going somewhere?", Wonwoo asks as he settles on the couch and you take a seat on the chair.

You nod, "Going on a date with Minjun."

Wonwoo's jaw clenches, his hands ball into fists as he asks, "Kim Minjun? He's a womanizer, Y/N. Didn't you go on a date yesterday?"

You scoff, "And how does that concern you anyway?", your lips curl up, "People can change after marriage."

Wonwoo short circuits at your verbal jab.

"Marriage? How can you even consider Minjun out of all people?"

Your expression turns grim when you say, "If I can't marry the person I love then marriage for me would be just another business deal, another merge to benefit the company, solidify our social status."

Trying to maintain the unbothered facade, you ask, "Why did you want to meet?"

"Why did you leave me alone in the bed?", Wonwoo asks toning down, "When you left, you took all of the warmth with you."

You suck in a sharp breath, breaking the eye contact.

"Within these two weeks I went through all sorts of possibilities from never acknowledging the fact that we slept to being a jerk, dismissing it as a simple hookup to letting you down subtly.", he gets up and walks up to you, crouching in front of you, "But as I pondered over, the only honest answer residing within my heart was not to be a coward anymore and be honest about my feelings, be honest with you."

Your heartbeat quickens, as his hands encase yours, you feel the warmth seep from him.

"I love you, Y/N.", Wonwoo confesses, "Like you, I have also harboured feelings for you for a long time. I cherish every moment we've spent together."

You're eyes go wide, heart constricting in chest. You feel your inners catapulting. You thought you know him all too well to give up upon the possibility of being together but witnessing him stripping bare in front of you is something you've always wanted but never expected to happen.

Wonwoo gently holds your face, voice soft, gaze emitting tenderness when he says, "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for projecting my fears and insecurities upon you. But I have realised that you're worth everything and above. For you, I would fight the world if you allow me to stay by your side."

Rendered speechless, your teary eyes look at him with such anguish that it makes Wonwoo want to beat himself for breaking your heart over and over again.

Moments pass by and you both fall into comfortable silence. You're now seated on his lap, head laying his chest as he gently strokes your hair.

"It won't be easy.", you speak, head still downed, as your hand takes in his, entwining the fingers, "But I'd go to hell and back for you if time comes."

You shift back to look at him, "And I promise to be your shield, if anyone tries to hurt you or Wonseok, they'd have to face me first. I won't let anyone hurt you.", your gaze softens, "All of your worries, fears and sentiments are valid, Wonwoo. But it would be nice if you share them with me from now on because you're not alone, we're in this together. I love you."

Wonwoo swears he doesn't cry easily but your words seem to have opened the floodgates as his loud sobs echo throughout the house.

"Thank you.", he smiles as you wipe his tears and leans in to kiss you.

As your lips graze, the shrill ringing your phone startles you both. You grab it from the couch and the screen flashes Kim Minjun as the caller.

There's a sharp change in Wonwoo's expression as he takes the phone from your hand, putting it on speaker and answering it.

"Uh sorry, who's this speaking? Could you please get Y/N on the phone?"

There's a terse movement in the muscles of his jaw as Wonwoo responds, "I'm Jeon Wonwoo, Y/N's--", his gaze shifts at you, lips stretching in a smile, "Lover. I'm cancelling the date and please don't ever contact her again."

As soon as he hangs up, you tease him, "Lover huh? Since when?"

Wonwoo grins like he's drunk in love, he might as well be, "Since the day, you got drunk and danced on the tabletop after the semesters ended."

You gasp, "What do you want in exchange for deleting this memory?"

He's so lovesick, giggling cutely and being all touchy, "What about making new ones and keeping this one in my vault, sealed?"

Your heart flutters at the insinuation. True to your words, you'd surely fight the world to keep him with you.

And your lover chants all's well that ends well to ending up with you, gratefully with all his heart.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

#all too well #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo drabble #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #wonwoo angst #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo x you #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen #svt #svt au #seventeen au #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #svt fic #svt angst #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen x reader

[bunicate]

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕. itto x fem reader already burdened by your small chest, a rumor you happen to overhear makes you reluctantly ask your dear older brother for a helping hand.

warnings ꒱ྀི incest. reader has smaller breasts. tit sucking + minor worship / wc ꒱ 2k / 18+ / I wanted to write a haithy and wrio version as well but da wordz were not coming. can’t believe im writing for dis silly oni omg . . but enjoy pls <3

“don't be so crude, you idiot.”

it doesn’t take much to discern the confusion from his expression. itto had a range of maybe three emotions.

other than his overwhelming display of pride and exuberance, there’s always room for his dumbfoundedness. he’s frequently addled— his face constantly knitted together while his mind searches endlessly to find the answer, at least the one he thinks you want to hear, but he never really does.

“what ? you said you wanted me to help, right ?” he shrugs.

you narrow your eyes.

“I know what I said but you didn’t have to word it like . . . like that .”

like some animal, you want to say but instead you look at your brother in distaste.

too many times you find yourself struggling to accept the gap in your relationship. most people often make the wrong assumption of you being the older sibling and you have to begrudgingly correct them that no, you are in fact the younger and smarter sibling.

why couldn’t he tell that you’re already embarrassed enough as it is ? why do you have to spell it out and add to the duration of your suffering. by now, your cheeks are practically inflamed.

“how else do I ask ? oh , should I add the please ?” he pauses.

“show me your tits, please.”

he offers you a dopey smile of triumph. he’s proud of himself, thinking for once he’s finally appeased you, but he couldn’t be more wrong. so so wrong.

you’re aggressive with your sigh.

you were too smart to ask him of all people. you’re way too intelligent to believe in silly rumors and baseless gossip, but they tangle in the mire of your thoughts.

“if someone sucks on your breasts, they’ll grow !”

“huh ? no way. where did you hear that ?”

it was two women in passing, just talking and having a laugh and yet you can’t stop yourself from just wondering.

you’re not blessed like your brother. the oni towers over you, well over six feet. a mantle of bulging arms, broad shoulders, and thick thighs. he’s as big and intimidating as it gets but that aura quickly dispels every time he opens his mouth.

you on the other hand are thicker in other places, your chest, however . . . not so much.

you look down pathetically and think about all the colored tube tops that just didn’t fit you quite right.

what did you have to lose ? you’re pride maybe. you’re just as prideful as your brother, maybe even more, but the soft slopes of fat poking through your shirt mock you. they remind you that maybe you can afford to throw your ego away. temporarily.

you whine as your patience wears you thin.

murmuring a quick prayer to archons to have them spare you from further embarrassment, you bury your doubts in the back of your mind.

“I hate you.”

you lift your shirt quickly, just ripping the bandaid off.

you expose your breasts to the cool air and to surprised vermillion hues.

the longer he stared, the more you wanted to hide. of all the array of emotions you’ve seen, ( three ) you can’t pinpoint this exact one. it’s new to you. it borders on unbridled warmth, but then after a few seconds of your nipples perking from his gaze, it dithers. . . and then he fucking squints.

“so small.”

there’s a beat of silence and it takes that brief moment to even register that you did not mishear him. you’re not sure what you expected.

itto certainly isn’t the brightest and his emotional intelligence is nearly non-existent, and still, you’re taken aback by his talent to be consistently unaware.

you feel awkward and vulnerable in the middle of the room. you bared yourself to him, your insecurity right to his face, and the only thing he could do was confirm that you are indeed a small-chested oni. it shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

you liked to think you could handle the truth just as much as you bluntly dished it out, but this time you couldn’t.

a flash of white-hot anger runs through you at his audacity. you yank your shirt down eager to hide in your room and cry about your humiliation. you’ll write his name in big stupid letters in your fuzzy-covered journal and call him a big fat meanie. i for idiot, t for trashy , t for terrible, and a big fat o for obtuse.

“asshole !” you scream.

you can tell he’s surprised by your outcry. you glare at him hoping that he would turn to ashes on the spot, but unfortunately, he doesn’t.

he’s too busy panicking. he’s struck with the startling realization that he’s messed up again and that you were pissed.

so many times you’ve stomped your pink heels in anger and strutted away, mini skirt riding up with every step you took. and each time he reacts the same.

he tries to fix it.

he’s quick to react, immediately reaching for you in urgency. “w-wait wait wait wait ! where ya’ going ?”

“ oh, don’t you dare touch me you, oaf ! you think I don’t know that they’re small already ? why would you say that ?! “ you pull away more than desperate to increase the distance from him.

“hey hey hey. calm down, baby sis. m’not making fun of you.”

it takes his hands resting on your shoulders and the worried look in his eyes to make you come to a stop.

you lick your lips and take a shaky breath.

he’s right.

itto is many things but never a bully. he’d never say anything purposefully mean, no matter how much you bad-talked him. he’s kind and loyal but unfortunately, all the brains just happen to go to you .

“I didn’t mean to make ya feel bad,” he says sheepishly. “jus’ think they’re cute, that’s all.”

he releases his grip on you to scratch behind his head, eyes flickering to your chest again. a blush colors his face to a shade of carnations.

you’re a sweet girl with an unfiltered mouth that would bend to no one, not even to the archons themselves. and you were tearing him apart with that pout and your pretty nubs peeking through the fabric of your shirt.

he’s your big brother and he angered you quite a lot but, never deliberately. but this time he’s determined, for once he wants to ease your worries and not add to them.

he stands a bit closer brushing away a saltine tear that regretfully falls.

“If ya still want me to do it, I will. I think . . . it could work if I just do it hard enough.”

you don’t answer him but you don’t think you need to.

he searches your eyes trying to find any sign of disapproval. itto remains unsure, he’s never good at picking up on the small nuances of your emotions and so he tugs at your shirt in uncertainty.

still angry and embarrassed, you look up at his stupidly handsome face and relent.

“jus’ do it you big dummy.”

like everything else you expect him to handle you roughly. to rip your shirt and bite and suck at your nipples until they bruise under his touch, but he does the opposite.

his free hand travels around your sternum at first, surprisingly gentle. his fingers are soft when they circle around your breasts, tenderly flicking the flesh to watch them jiggle. he thumbs at your wide areolas, tracing the tiny bumps in complete fascination.

you grow uncomfortable at how intimate it felt. his eyes are blown wide, drinking up the sight of your tits rising with each shuddered breath.

“d-don’t play with them. jus’ hurry up n’ suck .” you leap at the opportunity to break the tension, but somehow you’ve made it worse.

as soon as the words leave your mouth, he responds just as fast. it nearly knocks the wind out of you when his mouth latches onto your breast.

they’re small but there’s so much flesh , so much chub that itto can’t stop playing with. his tongue laps at your left mound, licking underneath it, licking around it, and sucking at all the fat he can fit into his mouth. he’s noisy, grossly so . he groans and curses each time he has to detach his mouth from your nipple to come up for air.

“pretty tits taste s’good, “ he slurs. he can’t form the words, not when he’s desperate to fondle your breasts with his slippery tongue.

itto squeezes you so tight, it nearly hurts but you couldn’t dare tell him to ease up. there’s something hard rubbing on your lower stomach and you're scared to even dare to think about what it could be.

he slowly drags his rough flesh up and down your mound, shivering when your nipple grazes his appendage. his fingers grope at your waist and hips, palms nearly enclosing your smaller figure.

“f-fuck , you’re tiny. m’not hurting you, am I ?”

you don’t trust yourself to speak, terrified a moan would spill instead, so you shake your head.

he’s over two feet taller than you, pressing you into a corner and he has to remind himself that you’re his little sister. his dainty, spit-fire little sister who’s tits he’s currently mouthing on to rid her of her troubles.

he’d suck long and hard hoping your already perfect tits would someday be perfect to you. he wants to make you proud and show you he’s not just some rowdy oni. he’ll kiss and suck as long as you needed him to.

he tucks your nipple back into his mouth, puckering around the flesh like a sour candy.

you’re as pillowy and as delicate as he remembers. he almost forgot how he sinks into you. how his firm stomach settles into your soft one and he’s painfully reminded that his erect cock has been slowly rutting against you.

sucking your tits was riling him up. it was making him act in that brutish way that you hated, but he was trying so hard to keep from lining his cock with your opening and milking your cunt dry.

the oni has to pull away to gather himself. he takes the time to marvel at his work.

your right bosom is drenched in spit, puffy and swollen from his ministrations. he smiles.

“It looks bigger already, don’t ya think ?“

“shut it !”

another insult dies in your mouth as you're still catching your breath. an oni’s nose is extremely sensitive and you wonder if he could smell the arousal fermenting between your thighs.

“let me do the other one okay, baby. don’t want them to be uneven right ?”

“w-wait itto maybe we should s— eek !”

you need another moment of reprieve but you don’t get the chance. he puts the other tit in his mouth, tongue greedily flicking against the nub which tears a squeal from your lips.

itto is confident his methods will work just as sure as he’s about to blow a load in his pants.

“gonna suck your tits until they fatten up. isn’t that right, little one ?”

you mewl at the pleasure and the softness of which he utters a name he hasn’t called you in years.

“s-stop talking so much ! just be quiet and and —hnnn— stop teasin’ !”

he continues his assault on your chest, cock chubbing against his pants.

“m’sorry,” he slurs. “can’t help it.” his groans are fanning against your chest while he drools on your sensitive peaks. “let nii-nii take care of you . . just relax f’me. . . just take it.”

he’s hard. cums crowns his tip as he keeps conjuring up thoughts of wiping his cock over your tits, rubbing the head around your puffy brown nipple.

you smell good, you taste better and itto for once doesn’t care if you think he’s gross. he wants to milk your tits and suck until they become sweet little prunes , just so he can make it better.

your panties grow sticky as his sucks grow rougher. even if your breasts didn’t jump up a cup size you think that maybe this was worth it. to have him close, to have him drool and worship your tits and feel his cock straining against you.

his eyes closed, still nursing on your teat sweetly. your hand buries itself in his thick mane that draped over his shoulder smelling faintly of your shampoo.

it silently encourages him to keep going, leading to both of your undoings. the hand running through his hair tugs on his roots but then suddenly stills.

you see a brief flash of something and you gasp.

“itto why on earth is your dick out ?”

“can I put just the tip in ? please?”

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