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#back to this dysfunctional pair

gutsby · 19 days

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Diehard

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Erectile dysfunction. Daddy kink. Praise kink if you squint. Overstimulation. Cumplay. She/her pussy pronouns. Pushing physical limits with a pre-negotiated safe word in place for it.

Note: No more limp dick erasure. We die like [old] men.

Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse | Word count: 986

Joel just wanted to prove he could fuck like he used to.

He didn’t think he’d almost kill you in the process.

“JOEL!” you screeched, heels digging deep in the mattress as your climax came in seismic waves.

The stimulation was insane. Normally the much-older man would have been down for the count after two—and usually one—big O, but now his chest was heaving, hips relentlessly beating a punishing pace against your own.

Your walls were slick with not only your cum but his, milky ropes of his arousal making for an obscene set of sounds every time his dick slid in and out of your cunt. You could feel his balls tighten and twitch with every forthcoming spurt of him, practically reeling with the pulse of each new sticky gift inside you. His groans rumbled low, but the power and pleasure and outright primal fervor they conveyed were unmistakeable. You had to look down, feebly, to believe it yourself—Joel never fucked his way through your orgasm and his.

Then you felt a palm slide up the back of your head, and Joel held it up to make sure you watched him fuck you.

“J-Joel,” you whimpered, watching his girth disappear and reappear at least a half-dozen times as you did.

“Just a little more, honey,” he murmured against your forehead. The smack of each thrust was dizzying, “Want my pretty girl nice and full’a me before she leaves, okay?”

Joel never could let you head back to college without a few of his loads and a head full of filthy memories—something to hold you over until your next visit home. You would’ve liked to mumble back, ‘Okay,’ but then your pussy clenched around him, and his thrusts grew faster.

“My sweet girl,” he grinned, “She likes that, huh?”

You could scarcely manage a nod. The weight of your head was held fully by him, and if that wasn’t indicative enough of your fucked-out state, your face surely said the rest. When Joel leaned back to adjust the angle of his thrusts, he caught sight of your hooded, glossy stare and almost came all over again. He slowed his pace for once.

Then he dipped a finger between your body and his, just long enough to douse the tip of his digit with cum. He bottomed out inside you, watched you part your lips in a gentle gasp, and pressed his touch to that open space.

It was almost like you didn’t have the strength to suck. You just let him smear the sticky stuff along your lower lip, gaze plastered to his. Then Joel’s cock sank deeper.

“O-ow!” you whined, partly reanimated by the stretch.

“You can take it,” Joel grunted.

The double entendre wasn’t lost on you. You could, and would, take his finger and his cock inside. You suckled dumbly on the cum-drenched fingertip in assent.

But when Joel’s finger popped out of your mouth and his thrusts picked back up, you weren’t entirely convinced you would be able to hold up the second half of that deal.

It wasn’t fair. He took one magic pill, and poof, his dick stayed hard for half the fucking day. You had nothing but your youth and two shaking legs to ensure your survival. When Joel worked his cock back and forth a couple more times and it seemed your body was about ready to scream, you took hold of his biceps and squeezed tight.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

The tip of his cock nicked a soft ridge inside you, and you jolted back. Joel’s palm was still pressed to your head, holding you to him, and his hips had you pinned as well.

Instead of answering, you whimpered.

You didn’t want him to stop, but you also weren’t sure if you could handle any more. Your eyes met his, pleading.

“Can’t what?” Joel pressed, a little more sternly.

Another whimper. Inside, Joel’s cock was rubbing that pleasure point raw, and you felt another climax coming.

“Use your words.”

“Too— too—”

Each new thrust was sending stars before your eyes. Joel was one sick man if he tried to make you talk while he fucked you past the point of all intelligible speech.

“Too what? Tell me, baby.”

You’d get that fucker back someday. Joel just grinned.

“Too much,” you hissed when his hips delivered another mind-numbing push. Then, feeling pleasure threaten to peak at almost a painful degree, “Toomuchtoomucht—”

Joel continued thrusting, knowing damn well you knew what to say if you really wanted him to stop. As if to underscore this point, he tipped your head back and made you hold his gaze, features creased with a frown.

“That sure don’t sound like the safe word to me.”

It wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. He didn’t need to tell you twice, or even breathe a second word besides. With one more brush of Joel’s thick, throbbing, implausibly hard cock, he sent you over the edge and into your fourth orgasm of the morning, hitting that spot again and again.

And again.

Just like before, Joel fucked you through each wave, catching your lips this time to stifle your cries. You might’ve gone blind for a second or two, but that was alright; the pleasure, proximity, and then the sweet, erratic pulse of his cock sending rope after rope of his cum deep inside made the overstimulation worthwhile.

Your body went limp against the bed, held tight in Joel’s grasp, when you felt that sickly sweet dichotomy of soft, tender touches and a cock lodged between your walls that was as hard as it had ever been. Still trying to console you with kisses, still trying to warm you up for another round, perhaps, Joel almost laughed out loud in your mouth when you groaned into his and whispered:

“Please don’t ever take that fucking pill again.”

#SOMETIMES I WRITE THIS MIDDLE-AGED MAN LIKE HE’S 25 AND JUST NEED TO SHUT THE F*CK UP #*brittany broski voice* BE REALISTIC!!!!!!!#BE F*CKING FOR REAL #FOR A SECOND BE FOR REAL #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 month

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Baby Love | Joel Miller

A Trial & Error One Shot

Summary | It's coming to the end of lambing season, but there's one sheep left to give birth. Noticing she's struggling, you spend the night trying to soothe her, reflecting on your own experiences in her position.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Warnings | Joel & Pretty Girl are still as horny as ever for each other so this is explicit. Mentions of ranching, sheep and animals giving birth. Mentions of human childbirth and pregnancy (I have never had my own children so please go easy on me), also mentions of how dirty it is when a sheep gives birth (blood/guts ect). Explicit smut including oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV smut IN THE BARN, creampie, Joel being a menace, PRETTY GIRL ALSO BEING A MENACE. No use of Y/N, no-outbreak AU.

Authors Note | It has been such a joy to write Pretty Girl again, I've missed her something terrible, and I'm so happy that the dynamic between her and Joel is still going strong, even if I have abandoned them for a while. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and if there are any aspects of this families lives that you'd like to see, feel free to request it in my ask box!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Lambing season is coming to an end - something you’re eternally grateful for. It’s been a busy few weeks - early mornings and late nights for both Joel and Tommy, leaving you with the twins, Joshua and Ellie to keep entertained. Not that you’d have it any other way - your dysfunctional little family makes you happy every day.

With Joshua at school and the twins with Joel as he took Ellie into town for an appointment, you’re out in the fields with Tommy, making sure the remaining sheep yet to give birth are doing alright. You don’t profess to being an expert, but you’d like to think that your motherly instincts can go beyond humans, knowing when certain sheep are due and when some of them are starting to struggle.

It’s been an easy lambing season this year - most of the girls are seasoned professionals by now, needing only a light touch and a refill of their water more than anything, but there’s one sheep you are worried about. She was from lambing season a few years ago and this will be her first time. When you head into the barn, she’s stood in the corner of one of the pens, moving very little but bleating every once in a while. You know it’ll happen soon, but you’re worried about her.

“Don’t worry your head, sugar,” Tommy soothes, running a hand down the back of your head when it’s time to leave, “It’s nature, she’ll know what to do.”

But, led in bed that night, there’s something that you can’t push from the back of your mind. This worry that takes over you. She’ll be on her own in there, being one of the very last to give birth, and what if she’s scared? What if something goes wrong? You remember how scared you’d been when it came to having Joshua.

So you sigh, push back the sheets, and get dressed. You leave Tommy a note in case he wakes in the night and worries about where you are. You can’t say the horses in the small stable next to the house are enthused about having a torched shined at them in the middle of the night, but thankfully yours doesn’t put up much fuss when you saddle it and make the journey through the dark fields to the barn.

Flicking on the lights, you’re immediately glad you came. The sheep in question is led on her side, breathing laboured and fast. As you walk towards her, she kicks her legs a little and lets out a pained bleat.

“I know baby,” You coo, making sure the gate is shut behind you, “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

You fall to your knees in the soft hay a little way from her, hoping not to spook her, but she doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence. She’s led down near the wall, so you crawl over a little and lean your back against it, stretching your legs out, just to be near her if she needs you.

The sheep lets out another pained bleat but she moves a little, up from her side and onto her feet. She walks closer to you, leaning down to prod your hand with her nose. You let out a little chuckle, letting your hand run down her head. The ranch dog likes when you scratch behind his ears, so you do the same here, which has her settling back down onto her side with her head on your thigh.

“It’s one of the most wonderful things,” You speak to her softly, continuing to pet at her head, “Having babies, but they always forget to mention how much it fucking hurts.”

She lets out another soft bleat, moving her body a little to get comfortable, or as comfortable as is possible when you’re in labour.

Watching her, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to your experience in her position. The first twinges of pain, low in your back that turned into pain everywhere. There wasn't a single position that was comfortable, no way to sit or lie or stand that could take the pain away. Then there was the exhaustion - after hours of waiting and more time pushing and pushing, there were moments when you didn’t think you could do it anymore, that you’d just close your eyes, drift off and wake up with a lovely, healthy baby perched in your arms.

But then, there’s that moment of relief, when the midwife had told you it’s okay honey, one more push and it’ll be done and it was and you could hear him crying and then he was on your chest and you were crying and so was Tommy. No-one ever mentions that bit either - how within seconds you could look down at a baby, your baby, and be completely and utterly in love with him. That’s what made it all worth it. That’s what made you want to do it again. It’s what makes you think you’d do it for the rest of your life if you could, just to have that one moment where that baby is in your arms for the first time.

“It’s worth it though,” You speak down to the sheep, “All this pain will be worth it in the end when we’ve got your beautiful little lamb with us.”

And it is. It’s all a bit dramatic in the end. The lamb gets stuck and you need to offer a helping hand to get it out, but almost immediately the mother sheep is doing exactly what she should, cleaning it off as you do the thing you’ve seen Joel do to help clear it’s airways, sticking a little bit of hay up one of it’s nostrils.

“Look mama,” You coo at the older sheep, a hand on her head as she works to get her little lamb clean, “Look what you did, you clever girl.”

Joel doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the barn that morning, but it certainly wasn’t to see you on your knees in the hay, rubbing a newborn lamb with straw. He can see from this angle that your clothes are filthy, covered in blood and God knows what else. Did you…? Have you….?

“Pretty girl,” He speaks softly, not sure you know he’s there, “What are you doing?”

You turn to him and it’s clear to see you’ve done exactly what he thinks you have and helped this sheep give birth, the gunk all over your clothes is also wiped across your cheek and forehead.

“She-” You trail off, “The sheep, she was struggling and I didn’t want her to be on her own.”

He opens the gate to the pen, walking in to fall beside you on his knees, “Have you been here all night?” He asks, letting his hands give the small lamb the once over.

“Pretty much,” You nod, “We had a lovely talk, didn’t we?” You ask to the mother sheep who is standing a few steps away, carefully observing Joel as he looks at her lamb.

“Did she do okay?”

“I had to get in there at the end,” You explain to him, “I think it was stuck, so I just gave her a little helping hand.”

Once he’s satisfied that the lamb is okay he shuffles back a little, watching as you do the same, letting the mother sheep have some time with her baby, “You did a good job,” He praises, letting his hand run down the back of you head, “Proud of you, pretty girl.”

He helps you to you feet, bends a little to brush as much stray hay from your jeans as he can before he steps back and really takes you in. It’s unconventional, but there’s something about the fact that you’ve got your hands dirty, spent your night here on your own to help one of his sheep, and the fact that you’re covered in dirt and hay, something about it all makes his jeans go a little tighter, something that he’s not quick enough to hide.

“Are you hard, cowboy?” He hears you tease before you’re stepping forward, “Does the sight of me covered in blood and guts turn you on?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on you, leaving the pen now he’s satisfied the sheep will be okay, but he can hear your feet following him and then your hand on his arm to get him to stop.

“You’ve not gone all shy on me, have you?” You speak softly, gently moving him so he turns a little.

“Have I ever been shy, pretty girl?”

“Then tell me,” You shrug, smirk plastered across your face, “Does this,” He watches as you drag a hand over the mess that is your clothes, “Turn you on?”

“You wanna know the truth?” He asks, voice low, “I wanna bend you over and get you to shut the hell up.”

Joel can’t help but let his own smirk show when your eyebrows raise, but it’s a fleeting later in your guise, because you’re turning around, showing him your back as you walk towards the stacked bales of hay in the corner. He can hear the clinking of your belt buckle and the telltale sound of you unzipping your jeans.

He’s stuck to the ground as he watches you pull down your jeans and your underwear, baring your backside to him. You pull them all the way down, letting them pool at your ankles as you spread your legs a little wider, bending yourself over the hay in the exact position he had in his head.

“Come on then cowboy,” You say, head turned over your shoulder to speak to him, “Come and shut me the hell up.”

It’s been an automatic response of his for years now, that when you present yourself to him, in any way, he falls to his knees like someone praying to an altar, and today is no different. He’s on his knees behind you, at just the right height to grip his palms to your ass, spread you open wide for him.

He wastes no time, he rarely does anymore, letting his mouth close over the hole of your pussy, somehow already weeping for him. He lets his tongue dip inside, lapping at your slick. It’s been years and he still doesn’t think he’ll get over how good you taste, how it lingers on his tongue for hours whilst he goes about his day.

Whilst he’s lapping up your slick, he lets one of his hands reach around, thumb searching out your clit, little circles rubbed across the little bud. He listens, feeling his cock throb in his jeans when you let out a gasp and a little moan.

“Not so talkative now, are we, pretty girl?” He mumbles, barely pulling off your pussy to speak, before he’s switching his hand and his mouth, leaning just enough so his tongue can flick against your clit, one of his fingers slipping inside you easily.

He chuckles against you when you moan at the curling of his fingers inside you - he loves when he can reduce you to a whimpering mess in seconds. It doesn’t take him long to feel the telltale signs that he’s going to make you come either. He can feel you start to fluttering around the two fingers he now has buried inside you, can feel the way you try and tighten your thighs around his face, so he carries on exactly how he is - suckling at your clit and moving his fingers in and out of your cunt until you’re coming for him, a high-pitched moan of his name from your mouth.

Joel doesn’t wait, he can’t wait. He stands, making quick work of pushing his own jeans and underwear from his body, finally freeing his aching cock from the tight confines of his trousers. He spits obscenely into his palm, running a tight fist up and down his length a few times before he’s dipping his knees, rubbing the head of his cock against the slick hole of your cunt, listening as he pushes himself inside you, giving you every inch of him as slowly as he possibly can, until he’s sheathed inside your tight heat.

He leans forward, covering your body with his own, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he gets used to the feeling of you clenching and fluttering around him. He can feel you wiggling a little under him, trying to get him to move, so he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, squeezing a little, stopping your movements altogether.

“Keep still,” He warns, “You need to keep still a minute, baby.”

There’s never going to be a time where he doesn’t need to do this. The soft, wet heat of your cunt and those first movements inside you that make him feel like he’s eighteen again, ready to come with a few thrusts.

He gives himself another minute before he starts pulling his cock out of you, slowly dragging through your slick until just the tip is left inside you, then he’s slamming himself back into you, setting a bruising pace.

The sound is obscene - there’s the wet squelch he can hear whenever he pushes his cock back into you, the slapping of his skin against yours and the way you both sound when you’re moaning each others names. He’s not going to last long, he knows it. All of this combined with the fact that anyone could wander in and see you has a thrill settling across his spine.

Joel leans forward again, letting his teeth bite down gently on the skin of your neck. He can feel the way your cunt is clenching, if he can just hold on, just a little longer, he can get another one from you, he knows it.

“Tell me,” He chokes out into your ear, “Tell me how to get you there.”

You let out a loud moan, turning your face to his, kissing him, all teeth and tongue and clumsy, “Bite me again.”

So he does, he lets his teeth sink into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking gently, sure to leave a mark, his hand slinking underneath your belly and down to your pussy, soaked bud of nerves exposed just right for him to use his fingers to swirl across it a few times.

“Oh my God-” He can hear you moaning, “Joel, fuck, please, don’t stop, just like that.”

Within seconds, he can feel you coming on his cock - cunt pulled tight, sucking him in. He feels the gush of slick from your pussy too, cock angled just right to have you squirting for him, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. It’s the tightening of your walls around him that sets his own orgasm off - that flush of pleasure across his body that blooms even more as he empties himself inside you. He can feel everything, the way your pussy clenches every time he gives you more, sucking his spend in as deep as possible.

He pushes himself up off you a little, hands on your hips, frantically sucking in air. He groans a little as he pulls himself from your cunt, standing back to admire how his cum drips from you. He doesn’t linger long, bending down to pull your clothes back up, gentle kiss pressed to the swell of your bottom as he does. He lets you zip yourself up whilst he puts himself right.

“Well, that was a great start to the morning.” You muse, pressing up on your tiptoes, gripping at his flannel shirt.

He’s about to speak when there’s a bleating from the sheep in the pen behind you, you both laugh, “Someone else agrees.”

He dips down, kisses your mouth slowly, gently, “Go and get clean,” He speaks against your lips, turning you around and giving you a tap on your ass as he does, “You’re filthy.”

“Still turns you on though.”

“Go on, get outta here.”

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starry-eyes-love · 13 days

Text

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader (One-shot, AU, No Outbreak). One-shot but in the same universe as Marriage Dynamics. This happens way later than the storyline within that series though. Can be read as a stand-alone or within the series.

Summary | Joel feels a little self conscious that he has to admit to you, his wife, that he has erectile dysfunction, and that he’s out of his little blue pills. You, being the understanding and loving woman that you are, remind him just how sexy he is, even with his little problem and that love doesn’t come with conditions.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut.

Age gap (58/40s), language, husband/wife dynamics, got some angst in this one (but it ends where they are ok and happy), smut, f! (fingering), m! (hand job), mentions of f! (oral), slight body descriptions (she states she’s 30 lbs heavier), mentions of erectile dysfunction and Joel having to take Viagra, Joel being out of Viagra (that poor man), sweet and tender moments, comfort, terms of endearment, you teasing Joel that he’s old and him showing you that he’s not. This is basically half story and half smut, so enjoy :)

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The longer your husband snapped his powerful hips and ground into you, the more worked up you were getting. Joel knew how to work you up, get you so riled up that you’d beg him to fuck you. You were trying to bite back your moans and whimpers, not wanting to give in right away. But when you heard Joel speak filthy things into your ear, you turned into a needy, whimpering little mess.

Joel stood in the bathroom, looking up at himself in the mirror while sighing. He didn’t know how it happened. How did he become an old man where his body required medication to function normally. Here he was, 58, with a worn out body that he no longer recognized. He had spent his entire life working construction, and now he was feeling it. He had aches and pains in places that he didn’t even know existed. He took blood pressure and cholesterol medication everyday just to keep his body somewhat on the right track. But worst of all, he had to start taking a small blue pill to help him obtain and sustain an erection. Yup, Joel Miller was diagnosed about six months ago with erectile dysfunction, something that he thought only old men got. But here he was, 58, and having to take Viagra just so he could properly fuck his wife. Joel didn’t know what was worse, having to take the little blue pill or the fact that you knew nothing about it. To make matters worse, he ran out of his special little pills, and he couldn't get any more until about six weeks. His doctor was on vacation and wanted to see Joel upon his return before re-filling his prescription. Joel didn't know how, but he had to figure out a way to keep you happy, without embarrassing himself any further. As he ran a hand down his face, he exhaled loudly, mumbling to himself ‘goddamn, when the hell did I get old?’

“What's that scowl for, old man, especially so early in the morning?” You teased, walking up to the other sink in the bathroom to wash your face. Your master bathroom now had two sinks, his and hers. It was a side project that Joel had completed last summer with the help from Tommy. He got tired of your constant nagging of finding his facial hair trimmings in the sink. So he decided to knock out a few walls and build you your very own sink with counter space. A his and hers master bathroom off from your bedroom. It only took a few weekends, but eventually his little side project was done. Now you both had enough counter space, where the two of you weren't bickering about where everything went in the bathroom anymore. Joel no longer grumbled about you taking up his side of the counter with your serums and ointments for your face. And you no longer nagged him about finding his beard trimmings in the sink.

“Quit it,” he had huffed, giving you a dirty look in the mirror as he finished trimming his beard.

“Woah, what's that look for?” You asked, taking a few steps towards him to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. “Good morning. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

Joel exhaled and shook his head, mumbling to you, “mornin,’” as you went over to your sink to wash your face. You knew Joel enough to know that this scowl on his face was only reserved for when he was upset about something or someone. You had hoped that someone wasn't you.

“Did I piss you off or something?” You asked while looking at him in the mirror, trying to figure out where his sour mood was coming from. “You're awfully grumpy this morning.” When he didn't respond, you replied again with a little more bite to your words. “Well, for someone who got laid last night, you don't seem very happy about it today.”

Joel huffed at you while rolling his eyes and mumbling, “yeah, well, I'm paying for it this morning now ain't I? M’back is fucking killing me.”

Oh, so that's why he was grumpy.

A part of you instantly became frustrated at his statement, but you bit your lip and tried not to say something inappropriate back. You enjoyed last night a lot with your husband, especially when you begged him to go harder. His answer to that request was to hold your head against the mattress as he fucked you hard from behind. It had been a long time since Joel Miller became unhinged like that in the bedroom, and if you were being honest with yourself, it felt fucking fantastic. It was something that you desperately missed. However, according to Joel’s comments and current mood, apparently he didn't feel the same way today as you did. He was now hurting, wincing as he twisted to grab the scissors to trim his mustache. You didn't want Joel to regret doing what he did with you, nor did you want him to be in any pain. His obvious lack of enthusiasm this morning about your midnight activities made you feel self-conscious. Nodding your head you said “ok,” as you attempted to wash your face. But when you stood there you felt yourself get anxious and self conscious about last night.

Did he not enjoy it with me? Maybe it’s because I’m not as thin as I used to be anymore? I did put on about 30 pounds over the years, so maybe I hurt him with my weight? You knew your body had changed a lot over the years, you no longer had a flat stomach or a tight ass. You had what people called a mom body. A slightly curvy, unattractive, stretch-mark laced body that carried three kids. Your later adult years were more about raising your kids than it was about going to the gym and looking sexy like a model or a porn star.

As you stood there, allowing your mind to run wild at the reasons why Joel may have not enjoyed himself last night, your hands started to tremble slightly and your eyes started to sting from the tears that were threatening to form. You quickly splashed water over them to try to stop the emotional reaction that you were getting. You were very hormonal recently, especially since your doctor said that you needed to stop your birth control. She told you several months ago that it wasn't healthy for a woman in her forties to continue to take birth control. So you stopped last month, two months after Joel got a vasectomy. Joel and you were done having kids. With Sarah finishing college, and with three kids that you had with him still at home, you had agreed that the only other future babies that would be in your house would be future grandchildren. What you didn't realize was that when you stopped birth control you would become more sensitive with your emotions again as your body adjusted.

Usually any type of grumpy behavior or comments from Joel like this wouldn't bother you under normal circumstances, but today you were extra sensitive and emotional. It didn't help that you had been super horny for your husband for the past two weeks while he was gone on a business trip. With the lack of kids for the weekend, Joel had taken his last blue pill right before he got home. When he got home, he barely made it through the door before he was thrusting himself deep inside of you, claiming you once again as his.

Now as Joel stood there, watching you through the mirror, he knew something was up. You kept alternating between splashing water on your face and then drying it. When he saw you do it a fourth time, he had to say something to you.

“Babe,” he said, trying to get your attention. When you didn't answer, but kept up your routine of splashing water onto your face, he knew something was wrong. He also noticed that you untied and retied your robe several times, mumbling to yourself that you hated your mom-type body.

Fuck, Joel thought. He could see that you were reading too much into his mood and that you probably were coming to the wrong conclusion yet again with his attitude. Joel wasn't upset or grumpy from the sex he had last night, because damn he loved your body so much. He was so turned on by it last night. He loved pounding his wife’s tight little pussy and hearing all those filthy little noises that you made for him. The reason for his sour mood this morning was because he was out of those damn blue pills, the ones that allowed him to be buried deep inside of you as he heard you moan his name.

When you didn't answer him, he tried again. “Honey, will ya look at me for a second?” When you finally looked up at him, he saw your lip quiver and the tears begin to fall. He immediately let out an exaggerated sigh, mumbling ‘fuck’ under his breath.

As soon as you turned to leave, Joel spoke up saying, “baby, I didn't mean anything by it. Fuck, c’mere will ya.” You had only gotten about three steps out of the door before Joel grabbed you by the waist and pulled you hard against his chest.

“Baby c’mon, I didn’t mean it like that. No, shh, it’s okay, don’t cry,” Joel said, holding you close. He had one arm around your waist holding you firm to his body, while his other hand was gently wiping the tears from your eyes. You wouldn't turn to look at him, so he just held you against his chest while trying to console you. “Baby, come on now. Shhh, don't cry sugar. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I'm not cryin’,” you mumbled, trying to sound stern, but failing miserably at your attempt. Joel cupped your cheek, and gently turned your head back towards him, kissing you tenderly while continuing to softly tell you that he was sorry for his mood and that he loved you.

Joel Miller may be several things in life. He may be grumpy and not very communicative from time to time. Often he’s described by others as being an asshole, especially when people piss him off. Usually he doesn't apologize for his grumpiness or gruffness, unless it's dealing with family. And it fucking kills him to see you, his wife, someone that he desperately loves and cares for cry because of his behavior. Joel never likes seeing you cry, in fact, it’s his least favorite thing to see.

After a few moments of tender kisses, Joel slowly started to deepen them into more passionate ones. He was walking a fine line here. He was trying to make up for being an asshole to you this morning, but also trying not to progress it too far where his lack of ability in performance would be seen. But with those little whimpers that you were doing, along with how you were gently nipping his neck, Joel found his resolve quickly crumbling.

“Baby, we gotta slow down,” he said, nipping at your collarbone and then giving you a hot and messy kiss to your lips.

God, it felt so good kissing his wife like this. Joel didn't remember the last time you two made out like this; all lips, tongue and teeth. He slowly backed you up to the wall and then hoisted you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. After another needy whimper from your mouth, Joel's resolve completely crumbled and he found himself thrusting hard up into you and grinding his hips against your clothed core.

“Is this what my baby wants, huh? Does she want her husband to show her who’s boss? To show her how a real man fucks, hmm?

“Yes. Please baby, f-fuck me. Show me how a real man does it, I need it,” you panted, reaching down to unbuckle and unbutton his pants. Your cunt was practically throbbing. So desperate to feel your husband’s stretch, to feel so full of him. Joel was a big man, he was long and thick. You always enjoyed the sting of his stretch, and the heaviness of his cock inside of you.

As soon as you touched Joel’s belt, he remembered the big problem that he had. He was only half hard with the inability to get fully hard for you. Goddamn fucking pills. Joel, feeling embarrassed at the situation, gently set you back down while placing a hand on top of yours. He was trying to stop you from reaching inside his pants.

“Baby, fuck, we can't” he said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, breathing slow, trying to find a way out of this embarrassing situation.

“What? Why? I don't understand,” you said with disbelief. You were trying to understand why your husband, who had been gone several weeks on a work trip, didn't want to have sex with you when the kids were gone. “Is it your back, honey?” You asked somewhat perplexed. “If it is, I can be on top and do all the work for you if you want. I don't mind, really.” You said, trying to reason with Joel to let you touch him more. When he didn't respond you reached forward and palmed him, feeling him only half hard.

“Please stop.” Joel said in a stern voice, grabbing your hand and gently removing it. “I- uh, I can't- fuck- we can’t, ok.” He said, voice shaking as he slowly backed away from you, running a hand down his face. He was disgusted with himself and the fact that he couldn’t give his wife the proper attention that she deserved.

You stood there bewildered, unable to make sense of what was happening. Did Joel Miller just turn down sex? In all the years you two have been having sex together, he has never once stopped sex from progressing. You were racking your brain, trying to figure out why all of a sudden he’d stop you. And the only solution that you could think of was that maybe you weren’t the only person he was seeing like this. Maybe he, just like your father, had found a new favorite toy on the sideline. You looked at your husband with mortified eyes, fighting with the firm possibility that maybe he was no different than your dad; a lying, cheating, bastard. “Wow mom, I guess you were right, all men do fucking cheat.”

Joel snapped his head up in your direction at your statement. What did you mean that all men cheat? What the hell were you even talking about?

As you started to walk past Joel he grabbed your arm and said, “what the fuck do you mean all men cheat?”

“Joel, please” you said, struggling to keep your voice even.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and grabbing both of your arms, slightly shaking you in his grasp. “You think I’m cheatin’ on you, is that it? That I’m fucking another woman. Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he growled.

“Joel, please don’t do this. I-I-”

Joel saw your eyes in that moment, saw that you thought he was fucking someone else. That wasn't the case. He didn't want to admit his problem, but goddamn it, he wasn’t going to have you think that he was no different than your father. Joel had no idea all those years that his best friend, your father, was using him as a goddamn babysitter so that piece of shit could go out and ball half of Austin as your mother recovered from her cancer treatments before she died of cancer. No. Joel wasn’t a piece of shit like that, and goddamn, it killed him to have his wife think so low of him.

“Baby, ya gotta believe me. I ain’t fucking around on you, ok? Please sugar, ya gotta believe me. I’d never do that.” He said, clenching his jaw, battling with the anger and rage that was rising up inside of his mind. He didn’t want to explode at you over this. He wasn’t mad at you, he was disgusted with himself of why he wasn’t honest with you when all of this shit started for him.

Joel’s problem of not getting or being able to sustain an erection didn’t happen right away. It was a slow process. At first he thought that maybe it was because things in the bedroom had gotten a little stale. But when Joel struggled to keep an erection even when he was alone, he knew that something was wrong. He didn’t want you to worry, so he didn’t say anything to you. After a lot of embarrassing situations at home, and with himself, he decided that he needed to bring it up to his doctor. After a few tests, his doctor had diagnosed him with erectile dysfunction, and then had given him a prescription of Viagra to try. At first Joel was nervous about taking them, wondered if he’d feel different. But once he did, holy shit, it felt amazing. Those little blue pills were like a magic drug. He could last longer and was harder than he’d been in years. When he noticed your increase in sex drive because of it, he felt like he won the lottery, especially when he could give you two orgasms with just his dick alone.

But slowly, his secret was getting harder and harder to keep from you. He quickly realized that those pills took anywhere between 15 to 60 minutes before they started working, which created a problem when you were trying to be spontaneous with him in the bedroom. At first he played it off at being tired, needing to rest for a little bit. Sometimes he’d also tell you that he needed to take a shower first, to freshen up for you. But when you’d wake him up on a Sunday morning, rested and freshly showered the night before, he struggled keeping his secret. He started using blindfolds in the bedroom when the two of you would have sex, so he could hide the fact that he had to take a pill quick. Sometimes when he waited for it to work, he’d give you oral sex and edge you. On days when he couldn’t do that, he’d just lie and tell you that he had a really bad headache and he couldn’t have sex right now.

He hated lying to you. He always wanted to tell you the truth, but every time he got the nerve to tell you something would happen or it just wasn’t the right time. If he was being honest, he didn’t tell you because he felt embarrassed and ashamed at the situation.

As you took another step to go around him, he yelled out “I got erectile dysfunction, ok. And as much as I'd love to fuck ya right now, my dick won't- fuck- it doesn’t get hard like it used to and I ran out of my prescription pills. I ain’t cheatin’, I never have, and I’ve never wanted to. You got to believe me. I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been honest. But baby, I can’t do it anymore with you like we used to.” He said, voice cracking at the end. Joel covered his eyes for a moment with his hand, wiping the tears away.

“I want to fuck you so much right now, so much. But I can’t, ya hear me. It ain’t a different reason, baby. My body, it just won’t let me do it anymore. It won’t let me be the man that I’m supposed to be for you.”

You stood there shocked at his admittance. When you went to open your mouth to console him, Joel quickly cut you off by saying, “I don't need your pity right now. I know I can't perform up to my wife's satisfaction anymore without help. And before you ask, no, I can’t take a pill right now. I have to wait until my doctor is back from vacation in six weeks. And I get it, you can’t wait that long and-”

“Joel” you said, gently cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Honey, I'm so sorry that this has happened.” He scowled at you with your reply, shaking his head and trying to step away. “Baby, please let me finish,” you said, forcing him to stay near you.

After taking a big breath you said, “I wish you would have told me about this when it happened instead of hiding it. Can you get an erection at all or?”

“Sometimes I can,” he said with a sigh, “but it ain't anything to write home about.” Joel let out a long exacerbated sigh. “Fuck, I can't fuck my wife when it's only half hard like this ok, and I’d appreciate it if you didn't think less of me for it and-”

“Joel Allen Miller,” you said in a commanding tone. “I would never think less of you for this. Baby, I love you, and everything about you. Yeah it does cause a little bit of an adjustment for us, but honey, I don’t care. You’re my husband and you should never feel like you can’t tell me something like this, ok?” You then gently cupped your husband with your hand, slowly palming him, feeling him slightly stiffen.

“Baby I-” Joel said, straining, trying to stay level with his voice and not break down with his words again. He didn't feel like a worthy man right now, and he was so embarrassed to feel or admit it.

“Please, Joel” you softly spoke, “let me try baby, please?”

“Darlin', it ain't gonna-”

“It doesn't have to get fully hard. Just please, please let your wife show her husband how fucking sexy he is, even with this little problem.”

“It ain't a little problem darlin’.” He said, slowly leaning his hips into your touch. He desperately wanted to feel his wife, to be inside her, to fuck her and hear her moan his name.

“I know it ain’t a little problem honey,” you whispered, gently nipping Joel’s neck. You slowly started to unfasten his belt and unzipped his pants, lowering them with his boxers down to the floor. You encouraged him to step out of them, trying to get him as comfortable as possible. As you stood up, you slowly licked your hand, and then gently wrapped it around his half hardened cock, slowly stroking him the way he liked. You were also nipping, kissing, and lightly sucking on his neck, on the places that you knew drove your husband wild. As you continued, you whispered loving messages to him, things that you hoped would remind Joel of how much you loved him.

“You are so sexy baby, and so big and strong. I feel so safe with you. I've missed you so much. I missed hearing you snore,” Joel let out a little grunt at that statement. “I've missed hearing you play your guitar, humming in the morning while you make your coffee. I've missed kissing you goodnight, and waking up next to you in the morning with you holding me.”

Joel leaned forward more, pushing your back against the wall as he tapped one of your legs to open wider for him. He quickly placed his hand down your sleep shorts and started playing with your clit as you talked.

“I-ah-I also missed your, your-”

“You missed my what darlin'?” He growled, thrusting his hips into your hand as he started moving two of his large fingers in and out of your wet, throbbing core.

“Shit Joel, I'm-”

“Did ya miss this baby? Did ya miss your husband's fat fingers fucking you dumb?” He said, nipping at your sensitive spot on your shoulder.

“Mmhmm” you said, tightening your grip around his half hardened cock. Joel wasn't lying, he really did have erectile dysfunction. But at this moment, you didn't care. Your husband was curling those fingers perfectly inside of you, to where you were almost seeing stars while he continued to snap his hips back and forth hard, helping you stroke him the way he liked.

Even though he wasn't buried deep inside of you. Something about the lewd noises the two of you were making, in combination with not being able to see your husband for the past two weeks, was rapidly propelling you towards the edge with your orgasm.

Joel could feel your breaths becoming more erratic, and could feel your walls tightening around his fingers. He was also getting closer to finishing himself. Your hand was the perfect tight fit around his cock. He kept rocking his hips back and forth, fucking your hand, feeling himself leak precum everywhere. He wanted to bury himself so badly inside of you, but he knew that he couldn't. Just as he started to feel self conscious again about the situation, your filthy mouth forced him to stay in the moment.

“God, baby, I fucked myself so hard with my fingers when you were gone. But nothing ever felt as good as yours do right now. Fuck, next time I want to fuck myself with my fingers, I'm just gonna use yours-oh fuck.”

“Oh, you dirty fucking girl. Shit- You were fucking those- yeah baby- those small little fingers inside of you pretending- fuck- pretending that they were mine, huh?” He said, speeding up his thrusts with his hips and with his fingers.

“Yes Joel, fuck, don’t stop baby, please don’t-”

“I won’t stop, not until you gush around me.”

The two of you continued to pleasure each other, bringing each other towards the edge, but neither one tipping over just yet. “Joel, I need more, baby. P-please, give me more,” you moaned. You were desperately snapping your hips back and forth, wishing it was your husband’s cock that was inside of you.

“Aw baby, look at you, riding my fingers like the dirty little girl that y’are.”

“Joel, baby, please-”

“Say it,” Joel growled, “say I'm the only one who makes you feel this good.”

“You are Joel, you are.”

“Say I'm the only one who gets to fuck this tight little pussy whenever I want.”

“Fuck- You do Joel, you do. It's yours, she's all yours.”

“She's all mine, huh?” Joel said, feeling your walls put his fingers in a choke hold with how tight you were squeezing him. “If she's all mine, then do it. Fucking come for me. Show me who's pussy this really belongs to. Ya heard me, I said come, now,” Joel growled. That coil that had wound itself so tight in your belly snapped hard at Joel’s command. You screamed your husband's name as you coated his fingers with your juices. Joel tightened his grip around your hand that was stroking him, while continuing to work you through your orgasm. After a few more hard thrusts himself, he came all over your hand.

You both slowly came down from your highs, and you couldn't help but giggle at the acts that the two of you just did. It brought back memories of when Joel and you dated. As Joel’s giggles eased he slowly ran his hand that was coated with your juices through your hair.

“Hey you,” he said, smiling fondly down at you. God he loved you so much, in every way possible. You were his soulmate, his better half.

“Wow, where the heck did that come from?” You said, giggling to yourself again. When you looked up you saw how Joel was looking at you, like he could see your soul.

“I love you so much, you know that right?” He said, slowly running his nose along your jaw.

“I know,” you said, sighing at his affection.

He then grabbed your hair hard in the back of your head, pulling down slightly to force you to look up at him. It didn't hurt, just surprised you a bit, which forced you to listen to the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Then never, ever, hint at the possibility of me wanting to fuck another woman again, ok. Baby, you are the only one for me. I ain't your father, and I sure as fuck ain't my ex-wife.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of Joel's ex-wife, he never told you the in-depth story of what happened, just the highlights that they drifted apart. “Joel, I-”

“No, sweetheart, I ain't talkin’ about her. What's done is done. Just, don't ever say that to me again, hinting that I'd cheat on you. Cause baby, I'd never, haven't ever, won't-”

“Ok Joel, I promise. No more fussin’.” You gently kissed your husband, giving him the slow intimate affection he was just giving you. After a few more passionate and tender kisses, Joel sighed and rested his head against your forehead, while rubbing his nose slowly against your nose.

“I reckon we both need a shower,” he said after a moment, exhaling and laughing slightly to himself. “Come on, I'll get the shower started.”

When Joel got to the bathroom doorway you said, “wait a sec,” and then walked up to him as he turned around to look at you.

“Next time, please tell me this stuff ok? No more secrets.” He nodded his head in understanding as you leaned up and placed another tender kiss to his lips. When you pulled back you added, “good, cause I hate to break it to you. You’re officially now an old man.” Then with another small peck to his cheek, you sauntered off into the bathroom, giggling at the nickname that you gave him back when he was in his thirties. After starting the shower and getting in, you yelled back “are you coming old man, or do I need to help you with your wheelchair?”

“No wiseass, ya don't,” he yelled, looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head at your smartass remark.

When he looked down he saw himself in the mirror once again. Yes, he did have gray in his beard, in his hair, and on his chest. He also could see that he wasn’t as physically fit as he once was in his 30s, but he still looked good. He needed glasses to read most of the time now, and you and Sarah constantly harassed him about it. But that was ok. He liked it, and he loved you both dearly. He also creaked worse than the old board on the stairs, along with feeling his age every time he tried to do something that he knew he shouldn't.

Sure, he had to take medication for his high blood pressure and high cholesterol. And now he got to add a little blue pill to the regimen, just so he could have sex with his wife. He was also at that age where he needed a colonoscopy done, something that was scheduled next week for him.

With all of these things going on, Joel did have to admit that he was older than when he first started dating you. But even with this admission, he knew from the moments before that he’s never made you come so hard in your life from just his fingers alone. So you could say getting old did have its advantages.

With a small smirk on his face, and a slight puff to his chest, Joel quickly entered the shower with you. When you turned around he said, “old my ass. I'll show you who's old, ya little shit.” Joel then dropped down to his knees and ate you out like a starved man. After he gave you another two orgasms, one of which he heard you screaming his name off the shower walls. He eventually found himself lying next to you, cuddling you in the bed. You were exhausted from all of your extracurricular activities the past two days, and were curled up and ready for a nap. After catching your breath, Joel slowly whispered in your ear, “who's old now darlin’?”

Before you could answer, Joel made his way down back your body and gave you one more Earth shattering orgasm. He wanted to prove a point. That he, in fact, wasn't too damn old.

End Story

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bi-writes · 2 months

Text

bff!roomate!simon has nothing left to lose. and it's time to face the music. (part 11/?)

more bff!roommate!simon

word count: 3.5k

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, aNGST, mean!simon, toxic!simon, depictions of simon's canon trauma, pet names (luv, sweetheart, kitty), lots of angsty pov shifts, possessive!simon (not healthy), allusions to smut (18+) ⚠️🔞

large blocks of italicized text are flashbacks.

he found a box of tipped-over memories some time ago. at the back of your closet, between the hastily tossed clothes, a box had fallen onto the floor. when he picked it up, pictures fell from it, scattering at the bottom of the closet as he set the box down.

he leaned over, picking up the polaroid pictures.

he had his head down as he walked. there was a sound--as the doors opened, a plethora of cries and happy calling of names surrounded him. families seeing their recruits after the grueling weeks away at basic training.

this was supposed to be reprieve. the chance to see sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, cousins, aunts, uncles--to see the people they loved ever since they had been cut off from the outside world as they learned to build themselves from the ground up.

he didn't know what that felt like. he didn't know what it felt like to look into a crowd for familiar faces. to search for his father and mother in a sea of happy, supportive people--that wasn't something he understood. when other recruits talked about their families, about the partners they had left behind, simon didn't really understand.

this was his escape. this was the place that felt normal. duty, subservience, the act of giving off control and finding it in the job you were given to do--it had been comforting.

but now he was back on the outside. now he was back to remembering how dysfunctional and unusual and lonely everything had been before this. so he kept his gaze on his feet as he pushed through the laughing crowd of warm smiles and excited voices. he just needed to get out of here. he just needed to keep walking, to not think about--

"simon?"

his head shot up at the call of his name, and he turned to look to the left of him. a few people shuffled out of his way, and then he blinked when he saw someone waving at him from just a few paces away.

it was you. you had your purse slung over one shoulder, in a simple pair of light blue denim and a soft cardigan. he swallowed, closing his eyes, squeezing them shut before opening them again to look at you, to make sure that you were still there.

"simon--" you pushed through a few other people before you came in arm's reach, and simon didn't hesitate. a rough hand wrapped around your elbow, tugging you forward, and you squeaked when he forced you into his chest. your eyes closed when his other hand dropped the backpack he was holding, and you let out a shaky sigh when that hand wrapping into the back of your head, into your hair, crushing you in a warm hug.

you tucked yourself into his chest, your cheek pressed to the fabric of his uniform, and you sniffled as your hands found purchase on his sides and squeezed him close.

"simon--"

"luv..." he breathed, and you pulled back, standing on your toes, your lips kissing his cheek as your arms came around his neck. simon felt his knees almost give out when you pressed your forehead to his, your hands sliding down to cup his cheeks. "i...i-i...missed you--"

"missed you more," you whispered, wiping a shaking hand along your face to rid the happy tears you shed. "'m so proud of you, simon."

"you came."

"wouldn't have missed this for anything."

one of your hands fell, tracing the lapels of his new uniform. he looked so good in it. he looked older. he looked so much better--stronger, more confident, eyes not so dark and dull and sad. he had put on some weight, and there was something so nice about feeling the solidity of him.

"hey! smile!"

both of you turned to see someone holding up a camera, waving at the two of you. you shuffled, breaking into a big smile, and you posed for the picture. you cradled simon's face to your own, pressing your lips to his cheek, and you giggled after you heard the click of your picture being taken. you were handed the photo back, and you shook it gently to develop the ink.

and there it was--fuck, it was so obvious. you were looking at the camera as you kissed simon's face, a happy shine in your eyes, bright and easy and soft.

he couldn't be bothered to look at the camera. all he could focus on was you.

he didn't really know what he had been waiting for. it would never be a good time, a right time. he had been at death's door more than once, and every time he was there, all he thought about was how much he regretted not knowing more about you, not taking more, not giving more.

in his room, alone, in the barracks of a place he no longer saw as he home, he thought about you there, too. thought about your soft skin and your pretty curves, the weight of your breast in one hand, how solid and grounded and real the space between your thighs was. he thought about how difficult it had been to find the meaning and the love that sex could be with another person, and how easy it had been to sink back into that place with you.

he didn't see pain behind his eyes when he tasted you. he didn't feel the burn and sear of some other memory when he thought about spreading you wide, giving you his burly fingers, fucking you senseless with his trigger-happy hands. those memories were erased. they were numb and far away, and he dreamed about saying thank you for making him feel just a little more human again.

maybe that was why he hadn't really fucked you yet. maybe that was why he hesitated every time he thought about sinking his cock inside of you, taking that soft, drooling pussy and making it his own, really his own--maybe he thought twice before getting that far because deep down he knew this would happen.

he knew he would lose you.

it was spring. flowers getting their color. soft sounds in the trees. sunlight warm against your face. it was too bad it was doing nothing to soothe the ice in your chest.

it was so heavy. it hurt, it was painful. in a matter of weeks, more like days, you had lost every person you had ever loved.

your second mother. the warmth of a brother. the kiss of loving sister, the soft hands of a nephew. the truth of it, the reality of it, was that they were your family. not by blood--chosen, because you chose them, and they chose you.

a friend. the love of your life, you thought. no, you knew, because the depth of what he left in you was too deep to be anything else.

it felt trivial to call him your soulmate. it felt stupid to call him your lover. it was more than that, you knew it was. now that you thought again, it didn't even feel right calling him the love of your life--what the fuck do you call the better part of what you are?

what do you call the thing that has always been the same? what do you call the constant, the unchanging variable, the thing that makes your sky blue? what the fuck do you call the thing that pumps your blood and kisses your scars and always makes it back home?

every terrifying goodbye. all the letters sent back and forth, the late night phone calls, the whispers of i love you that you knew were more--why didn't you just tell him?

why didn't you just tell him that this was what you felt? why didn't you just confess every suffocating feeling?

because now he will never know. he will never come home, he will never hear you tell him you miss him--fuck, did he think about me? when they killed him too, did he have time to think about me? did he think about tommy? did he think about what would happen to me, did he wish he could say something, too, do you think he had his own regrets?

because it was real, wasn't it? he loved you. he had to have loved you, because you loved him, you knew this, and you still do, and it hurts, and i want to die, too. and you hate him now, because he did this to you, and there was nothing you could do.

your hand shook as you shoved the key into the lock. you turned it, opening the door and closing it behind you.

you hadn't been inside of your apartment in a long while. it wasn't safe, they told you. but now, it didn't really matter to you. dead, alive, you weren't either anymore. you were somewhere in between, and you would rather be one of them then none of them.

and dead felt like it might be relief, too.

it was dark. every surface with a thin layer of dust, the curtains drawn, locking out the spring. it was still winter inside of here, a moment in time that you wished so badly you could go back to. when they were here. when he was here.

you blinked when you saw the sway of the curtains. a soft ray of sunlight peeked through them as they moved with the wind, and you swallowed hard.

you had left it closed.

when the fabric pulled back, you held up a hand to block the glare of the sun. you stepped backwards, back into the dark, and when the curtains fell again, you rubbed your eyes before opening them to focus.

no. that wasn't right. a figure stood there now, standing tall and imposing. big shoulders, a solid chest, the gait of someone you once knew, but not anymore.

a ghost. i'm seeing a fucking ghost.

you stepped forward, opening your mouth to speak. for a second, you could pretend it was someone else, but as your gaze adjusted back to the dark, you met those eyes. eyes, his eyes--you would recognize them anywhere.

he wore a mask, but he couldn't hide from you. not anywhere.

"si...simon?"

fuck, you couldn't stop the break in your voice. the bloom of something horridly happy in your chest--because your family was gone, but fuck, fuck, fuck--

sobbing. you were sobbing, dropping your things, running because even a second longer without him, and you would lose your mind. you shoved the table out of your way, kicked the chairs, you heard something crash onto the floor and shatter--but then your arms were around him.

he called your name, but you didn't respond. you cried out again, and when you tried to jump, he couldn't catch you. he fell to his knees with you in his arms, weak from injuries you couldn't see, but he didn't complain about the pain. he held you just as tight, cradling you to his chest, and you both fell to the floor in a messy, tearful embrace of two people who couldn't believe their blood-soaked luck.

because you had lost your family, but hadn't lost each other, and even though it sickened you to feel happy, you did, and you couldn't care yet about what that might mean.

"i thought...i thought they..." you had never heard him this way. his voice so low, so hoarse, and you knew what had happened. he had accepted your undoing, just as you had, and he was struggling with the mix of nauseous happiness and deep-set guilt. "thought they had you, luv--"

you shook your head, cupping his head, smoothing your fingers over the mask. you did not ask about it, not about why he covered his face or what he had gone through to get back here.

they can't kill him. he's mine, they can't take him from me, they can't, they can't, they can't--

you didn't remember how long you laid there. how long you spent with him draped over you, his head buried in your neck, the sounds of his shaking breaths.

you love him. i love him. he loves me. but you don't tell him that. and he does not tell you.

he lied. over and over again, he lied to you, and you never batted an eye. and there had been moments when he knew that you knew--you would look him over, knowing what you were hearing was not the truth, and yet you stayed.

accepted the keys to a shared apartment. wrapped his wounds after he had let go of the anger, sinking it into soft, supple flesh of revenge that had tasted so good. when you washed his clothes and saw the water run red, you did not blink twice. all he remembered was you nodding to his pants and telling him that cold water and peroxide would do the trick.

bonded. that was what you were. bonded, through trauma and death and blood and the look in your eyes when he ate your pretty pussy. the naked, glorious truth of you, it was cruel, and now you weren't here.

an empty room. pictures he couldn't bring himself to burn. a mug he won't throw away, the hairbrush still rattling in the bathroom drawer, the shoes you left in the hallway. you were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and he was fucking sick.

he ached. he hated; hated what, he didn't know, but he hated something, and he wanted to tear it apart. there was someone he loved in another place, and he needed to bring her home.

she needed to come back to where she belonged. needed to come home. needed to lay on his bed and listen to him apologize, and he needed to fucking have her.

he was going to bring you home. whether you liked it or not, whether you believed what he said, whether or not you would forgive him, you were coming home, you were coming home, you were going to fucking come home.

he waited for you. you could see him from down the street, sitting there on the steps, elbows resting on his knees. you stopped walking, skidding to a halt, and you adjusted your jacket as you turned to look around the street.

it was empty. and you were just desperate to get back to your apartment. you took a shaky breath before moving again, adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

you tried to walk past him. tried to sidestep him as you walked up the steps--but that was stupid. he reached over and grabbed ahold of your shin, holding you back, and you huffed as you gripped the stair railing for balance.

"let go."

the hairs on the back of your neck stood tall when you heard the low chuckle, and then--"no."

you kicked his hand off, turning to face him, looking down at him.

"how did you find me?"

"not a fuckin' corner of the world y'can go without me findin' you, kitty."

"what did i say about calling me that?"

he shrugged. "dunno."

you gritted your teeth, "get the fuck out of here, simon. i won't ask you again."

you were forced backwards when he stood up, to his full height, and although he was a step or two below you, it only made you at eye-level with him. you glared nonetheless, trying not to let his size intimidate you.

"i don't want to see you. ever again. leave--"

"no," simon muttered, and he narrowed his eyes under the mask. "not goin' anywhere, kitty. i came to get you."

"i'm not going anywhere with you," you spat. "fuck you."

you blinked when all you saw was the crinkle of his eyes, the tell-tale sign of a smile. your heart squeezed a little at the sight of it. it was unsettling. it didn't make sense.

"i told you--not ready for that," he said lowly. "now go get your things. we're leaving."

you leaned in, shaking your head. "i'm not going anywhere with you, simon," you repeated. "leave. get out of here. i...i don't want anything to do with you, i--"

"liar--" he snapped. you jerked back at that, and before you could respond, he reached up and cupped the expanse of your throat with the meat of his hand. you gripped his wrist to relieve the pressure, but it was no use. simon had an iron grip on you, and he pulled you closer, the front of your lips pressed to the mouth of his mask. "you're lyin'. it's olright, sweetheart."

"simon--"

"no, you listen t'me," he growled, and your lips trembled. you couldn't decipher the feelings you were having. fear, uneasiness, arousal--it was all at once, and it confused you. "y'didn't let me fuckin' talk before, but you will now."

you whimpered, clawing as his gloved hand, but he clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"made a mistake, didn't i?" he hummed. "wrecked the only good thing i ever had, yeah? 'cause i'm a right bastard, kitty, but you knew that, hmmm?" he smoothed a rough thumb over your bottom lip, and you spat, but this only made the crinkles around his eyes grow. his smile, fuck you. "shagging girls i don'even know, fuckin' them, 'cause i was angry--" he tsked, shaking his head, "dunno wot i am...wot i was thinking. was just...so fuckin' angry."

"fuck you!" you breathed, your eyes watering. "i hate you."

"y'don't, luv," he whispered. "y'don't hate me, and that's what bloody kills you, yeah? y'never could. not after everything."

your lips trembled, and your face scrunched up in pain as you started to cry.

"it's not fair, simon," you gasped. "i-it's not fair. what did i do wrong? what did i do?"

maybe that was the cruelest part of this. simon had been the one to make a mistake, but somehow it was supposed to be your fault?

simon had let you go for too long--you were thinking, and he couldn't have that. you were thinking too much, letting your mind fester and spill over and make a mess of what really was the truth.

you just needed to come home. that was all.

"nothin'," he murmured. "did nothin' wrong." he pressed the face of his mask to yours again, harder this time, a kiss that took your breath away. "could never do anythin' wrong, kitty. somethin' wrong with me, th's all."

"i-i can't--" you sobbed. "i-i can't do this--"

"'m not leaving without you," simon growled. he reached behind with his other hand and gripped your hair roughly, shaking you, biting against your mouth. "not fucking leaving, you understand me? i will follow you wherever you go."

you cried, and all he did was hiss, shaking his head.

"simon--"

"you could run all you want, kitty, but i will fuckin' come for you--" he cupped your face with both hands, making you look at him. there was something in his eyes. something insane, something unhinged, and you wanted to be afraid, but simon would never be able to scare you, not really. you were shaking, tasting the saltiness of your tears, but you stared right back at him. "y'can even die, kitty..." your eyes fluttered shut, and his breath was warm. "i'll crawl into your fuckin' grave and pull y'out. n'if i can't get you then, i'll find y'in every other life y'live--" your mouth fell open, slack-jawed and wide open, just like always, just like he knew you would be, "--i'll follow y'there, and i'll bring y'back. bring y'home."

when you opened your eyes, he was still staring down at you, and your gaze found his immediately. maybe simon wasn't the other part of you. maybe he wasn't the love of your life; maybe he wasn't what made the stars align or the pieces match up.

maybe this was fuel to fire. a cup that never goes empty, one that simply overflows. the igniter to something that neither of you would be able to control.

but when the fuck did you ever care about control? maybe you just needed to let go.

if he took from you, then you should take from him. steal and take and bite and growl and make him bleed, because that was what he did to you, and you wanted it, too, i want him to beg, too, want him to lose his fucking mind the way i do, because it isn't fair, and i deserve it, and it is what i'm owed.

for the first time in your entire life, you saw the same in his eyes that you knew was inside of your own. something hungry and territorial and fucking angry--and i am sick and tired of burying it.

simon was yours. yours. and you were going to fuck him until he understood that, too.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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m-ayo-o · 5 months

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18+ Naoya x female reader: sex, aggression, degradation, ownership, choking, tummy bulge (reader's waist described as small), cervix fucking, breeding. idk who cares about Naoya but god damn i needed to write something for this meanie

Naoya Zenin, the self proclaimed righteous heir to the head of history's most dysfunctional clan.

After receiving the news that his place was taken by none other than a certain Fushiguro... you were the first to hear about it.

"Naoya... s-slow down, I'm serious-!"

But not as serious as him, where he's got you gripped and pressed up against the wooden closet in his luxurious room, in his private wing of the estate.

"Shut your damn mouth"

His hands are around the underside of your knees, pushing you against the pliant wood, with his hips doing the rest of the work to keep you suspended.

The way he's drilling into you is borderline psychotic- needless to say you're getting a little scared by the way he's looking at you.

So you try so hard to keep your mouth closed, letting out little whimpers of his name, and when you start crying... oh he gets a look in his narrow eyes that tells you you're in for it.

He drags you to the tatami floor and finally strips off his own attire fully, exposing the vast planes of his muscles to you, and he threads his fingers in your hair.

The movement is surprisingly soft, almost loving, until he arches over you and digs his cock in again, tugging harshly at your pretty strands.

"Just take my cock, ok? That's what you're good for- just lay fucking still and let me have this"

He lets go of your hair and presses a hand to your lower stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock through your itty bitty tummy.

If you know one thing about the Zenins, it's that the men are very... well hung.

And Naoya is dangerously so, pressing so far back he's starting to fuck your cervix.

His every movement is harsh, aggressive, filled with rage from the downright absurd news he heard earlier today.

And you're the one on the receiving end- of his ill temper, of his impatience to become head of his clan, his hatred of his brothers and the Fushiguro 'prodigy'.

His blood is boiling and his mood is whipped up into the most terrible, raging storm.

He all but growls in your ear, forcing you to orgasm with his sheer size. The pleasure is so acute it makes your head crash into the tatami mat and you almost lose your senses.

But he pulls you back in with a ravenous kiss, his teeth tugging your lips open and his tongue diving in immediately.

You get your bearings and bring your hands to his spiky hair, grabbing fistfuls and kissing him with near equal levels of hunger, until you have to pull away for air.

"N-Naoya- I- I think you should be.. head of the clan-"

And he looks directly into your eyes, with that resting, feline glare, and he asks, "And what would you do for me, if I were the head?"

"A-anything-" he has you wrapped around his finger now. If he were the head of this clan he would have you bound to him.

"Y-you would... own me"

That's what he needed to hear.

"Isn't that... romantic?"

He lifts a hand to your throat and orders you to cum on his dick one more time.

The ceaseless grinding of his abdomen over your clit, paired with the deep, penetrating pleasure, gets you there quickly.

Your vision starts to blur with the intensity of your high, your slick walls sucking him in over and over.

And that's when you earn his first relieved sigh of the night- the first murmur of praise.

"Girl, this pussy is so fucking tight, gonna let me cum inside?"

You gulp and swallow, stuttering and blinking with shock. You're not on birth control. And you really do wonder how many other girls Naoya is doing this with.

But your hesitation only riles him up again.

"Can't decide?"

He looks between your wide eyes and the ring of creamy white around his dick.

"Your pussy wants it. Gonna fill your pretty pussy up, you got that?"

You space out for a second, the gravity of what he's saying sinking in.

"Y-yes- Naoya take me- do it- fill me, please-"

He gives you that unfairly handsome, arrogant smirk and dips his head against yours.

"Good girl" he purrs and finally fills you.

idk what happened to me on this second read thru. regular scheduled programming will resume shortly

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #female reader #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya zenin x reader #18+ content #tw: sex

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dreamwritesimagines · 17 days

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The Eye of the Hurricane [15] - Morning After

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, it's a calm one❤️ and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: The first day of marriage can be relaxing.

Word Count: 2800

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

When you woke up next morning, it took you a while to understand where you were because this was not your bedroom or the honeymoon suite you had been staying at for a month but—

Oh.

Barnes weekend residence.

You rubbed at your eyes and turned around in the huge bed to see Bucky sleeping soundly right beside you, still in his clothes from last night. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked down at yourself to see your white afterparty dress, then yawned and pushed yourself off the bed.

Your afterparty dress was pretty, but it was way too uncomfortable to sleep in.

You grabbed your clothes from the bag Becca had prepared for you, then made your way to the bathroom to change into them and walked back into the bedroom again. When you pulled open the curtains to let the sunlight in, the sight of the huge green yard caught your attention and you smiled slightly, leaning sideways to the windowpane.

It was a good thing you were going to get this house in divorce.

“Morning,” the raspy voice reached your ears and you turned around, your heart skipping a beat as your gaze fell on Bucky. He ran a hand over his messy hair as he sat up in the bed and you stared at him for a moment, noticing for the millionth time just how handsome he looked before you frowned, throwing your shoulders back.

“Why are we in the same bed?”

“We’re not,” he said, motioning at you. “You’re standing right there.”

“No I mean last night—”

“I hardly remember anything about last night,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes before his head snapped up. “Wait.”

“What?”

“Did we…?”

You scoffed a laugh. “You wish.”

He managed to shoot you a mischievous grin despite being sleepy, then leaned his back on the bedframe to look at you better.

“Anyway isn’t it a good start?” he asked. “I mean considering we have one bedroom in the penthouse.”

“There are two guest rooms.”

He tilted his head.

“Y/N, I need an office in the apartment and so will you,” he said. “You do realize that?”

Your frown deepened as you tried to wrap your head around the idea. You hadn’t thought about the fact that he would need an office but it made sense, most of the deals were done at bosses’ homes and now that you were going to become an active player in the business, you would need one as well.

Oh, God damn it.

“Are you serious?”

“You chose the apartment,” he reminded you. “Besides I think it’s safer for us to sleep in the same place in case of an attack, especially with everything that’s been going on in town lately.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and heaved an irritated sigh.

“Great,” you muttered. “I want one of those huge beds then.”

“Done.”

“And if you dare assume—”

“I’m not assuming anything,” he said and he got off the bed, then started unbuttoning his shirt, making your eyes widen.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said. “You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

“Um…” you trailed off, trying to focus. “No?”

“Great, I’m starving,” he said, checking his wristwatch before tossing his shirt aside. “Our chef is a genius, you’ll see.”

…Jesus, this was just simply annoying.

You tried not to stare at his muscular torso but the tattoos on his strong chest made it impossible to look elsewhere. Your eyes darted over the small numbers around the gun before slipping down to his abs, but then snapped up to his face when he cleared his throat, his cocky smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t fucking say it,” you said and he held up his hands.

“You know, if you wanted to consummate our marriage—”

“It’s not the Regency times and that will never happen.”

“Just saying, the offer is on the table whenever you want.”

“I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on earth,” you pointed out, trying to ignore the fire burning your cheeks. “I’ll—I’ll go and check if the breakfast is ready, don’t be late.”

You walked away from him before he could say anything else, but you could still hear his laughter as you left the room. You shook your head as you made your way to the top of the stairs, then gritted your teeth.

“Keep your head in the game,” you muttered to yourself and went downstairs, your heart still beating fast.

This right here was the reason why you liked the Barnes weekend home this much even when you were growing up. It was pretty far away from the city and it was such a huge estate that it made you feel as if you had escaped from all the chaos and tension that came with the city. You and Bucky had decided to go back to the city around the evening so that no one would have any doubts about you not “enjoying” each other’s presence the morning after your wedding since you weren’t going on a honeymoon.

Bucky had given everyone the business excuse, and considering the state the city was in right now with HYDRA you were sure everyone agreed, but it was still a good idea to play it safe.

You thanked the maid who brought you your mimosa before she walked back to the house, then took a sip and leaned back on the sunbed, heaving a sigh. It was such a beautiful day so you decided to enjoy the sunlight with a book you had found in the library while Bucky was swimming in the pool. You stole a look at the pool before dragging your gaze to the green yard, then put your glass back on the small table beside you but before you could go back to your book, your phone vibrated on the table, making you frown.

“Who the…” you trailed off, then raised your brows when you saw the text.

From: Ethan

Hey, just wanted to say congratulations for the wedding.

You pursed your lips, taking a deep breath and your finger hovered over the button before you typed in your reply.

Thank you.

You sent it and saw that he was typing for a couple of seconds before you received another text.

Can we meet when you’re available? I’d like to apologize in person.

You blinked a couple of times, then sat up straighter and sent your text.

Nothing to apologize for, but I’d love to meet sometime this week?

You jolted with a gasp when Bucky’s phone started vibrating and shook your head, then put your phone down to grab his.

“Bucky!” you called out, holding up his phone and he turned in the pool to look at you, then swam towards the edge of the pool to pull himself out. A warmth spread through your stomach as he came closer to you, sunlight falling on his skin as he ran a hand through his wet hair, then grabbed a towel so that he could wipe his face. You swallowed thickly, averting your gaze from his body and put the phone on the table again, pretending to be engrossed in your book.

“Hey man,” Bucky answered the phone and listened to the other line, then let out a chuckle. “Hold on I’m putting you on speaker.”

You looked up from the book at him as he flung himself on the sunbed to your left.

“Hey Y/N!” Sam’s voice reached you and you smiled.

“Hi Sam.”

“Not interrupting anything I hope?”

“Nope,” you said. “What’s up?”

“How badly did you scare Ian?”

You pulled your brows together while Bucky grinned. “What?”

“He wanted a meeting with me and Steve as soon as possible,” he said. “Today, actually. Before you got back to the city.”

“Unbelievable…” Bucky muttered, curling an arm behind his head and you bit back a smile.

“Did you say yes?”

“Are you kidding? I’m still hungover,” he said with a small laugh. “No, meetings can wait until Monday.”

“Even better,” Bucky commented. “Let him panic.”

“Did he sound panicked?”

“Oh he did,” Sam said. “And very obvious too because if it were about business, your father would be the one to call me. Arthur is the one I make deals and have meetings with, not Ian.”

You nibbled on your lip, that familiar jealousy sinking your stomach.

“Well, he’s usually in the room though,” you muttered. “Does my dad know?”

“About the meeting? I doubt it,” Sam said. “Anyways, I just wanted to let you two know. Your cousin is freaking out, Y/N.”

“Serves him right,” you said with a grin. “Thanks Sam.”

“Anytime. Buck, I’ll see you when you get back?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Thanks again. Tell Steve I said hi?"

“Will do,” he said and hung up, and you took your glass into your hand while the maid brought Bucky a drink. Bucky thanked her, then turned to you.

“Him being scared is going to be hilarious to watch.”

You huffed out a small laugh, then sipped your drink.

“He will try to stand in my way though,” you said and Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“He will,” he said, nodding his head. “And we will run him over.”

That managed to put a smile on your face and you nibbled on your lip, looking down at your drink.

“Having second thoughts?” Bucky asked and you frowned, then shook your head.

“No,” you said. “No, never. I want this, I just—I also know it will make my dad furious when he finds out what I’m trying to do.”

“He can be furious all he wants,” Bucky said. “You’re the right choice here. He’ll see.”

You bit inside your cheek, trying to get rid of the familiar nervousness pulsing through you. You weren’t so used to going directly against your father ever since you were a child, especially on important things, and the family business was as important as it got.

You wished he could just name you the heir. That he could just let you prove yourself instead of pretending he couldn’t see that Ian was not fit to be the next boss, but since he refused to do it, you refused to feel bad about what he forced you to do.

He had promised you the position after all, so many years ago.

You snapped out of your thoughts and turned your head when Bucky’s vibranium hand touched yours.

“Hm?”

“Swim with me,” he said, shooting you an irresistible smirk that made your heart skip a beat, but you pulled yourself together and scoffed.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, it’d be fun.”

“I’m sure you’re very familiar with the idea of having fun by yourself,” you snarked, grabbing your book again to turn the page. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Bucky shot you a grin.

“Fine, stay here and pretend you’re not staring then.”

“I don’t even notice your presence,” you shot back as he got up from the sunbed, then walked to jump into the pool again. You stole a look at him, then clicked your tongue.

“Much,” you added quietly to yourself. “I don’t notice your presence much.”

By the time you and Bucky got to the city, it was already evening. The road hadn’t taken you long, but spending the whole day by the pool and knowing that tomorrow you had to plan just how exactly you would first get involved in the business at least officially made you feel quite tired.

And it was going to be the first night you would stay in your and Bucky’s new apartment.

In the same bed.

Lovely.

Having already ordered the biggest bed you could find, you were sure that this time tomorrow, you would be able to go to sleep and not even notice you were not alone in the bed but tonight was going to be rather challenging. You knew you had slept in the same bed last night, but both of you had been drunk so—

Getting drunk tonight as well sounded like a good idea actually.

When you reached the top floor and saw Bucky’s men patrolling the hallway, you repressed a yawn and followed Bucky to the door of the apartment. He unlocked it, then turned to you with a grin.

“What—” you started but was cut off when he hoisted you up bridal style, making you let out a surprised squeal. “Bucky!”

“It’s tradition,” Bucky said, still grinning. “We’re a traditional couple.”

“No we’re not, put me down!” you said, trying your hardest to stop the giggle threatening to spill from your lips as you held onto his shirt, painfully aware of Bucky’s men stealing glances at you two. Bucky opened the door and stepped inside with you in his arms, then kicked the door close with his foot.

“You’re unbelievable!” you said, unable to stop yourself from smiling as he put you down, and he had the audacity to give you an innocent look.

“What?” he said. “Sweetheart, we’re married now. I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold.”

You lowered your head just so that you could hide your smile and smoothed over your dress, then turned your head to see the multiple gift boxes and flowers in the living room.

“Ah,” you said. “I almost forgot about the wedding gifts.”

“Did we put weapons on the gift list?”

“No,” you said, making your way to the living room. “But we got them, probably. I call dibs on any knives we get by the way.”

“I told Steve I wanted brass knuckles,” Bucky said. “I think he got us a matching pair.”

“Oh I love brass knuckles.”

“I saw this really cool—” Bucky started but stopped talking when a small meow reached your ears. You pulled your brows together and opened your mouth to ask whether he heard it too, but a white ball of fur wheezed through the living room.

“What the…” you trailed off when a beautiful white cat with a pink ribbon on her leash reached you, and sat down to look up at you with wide blue eyes.

“Mrow?”

“Are you seeing this as well?” you asked Bucky and he nodded.

“Why do we have a cat?”

“She’s so cute—did she come with the apartment?” you asked. “No, right? She wasn’t here when we first saw here.”

“No I don’t think…” Bucky said and walked to the door to open it. “Aaron?”

“Mr. Barnes.”

“Who brought the cat?”

“Miss Becca, sir,” the man replied and you bent down to scratch at the cat’s head, making her close her eyes for a moment, purring.

“Hi there,” you whispered, smiling wide. “Aren’t you the cutest thing in the world?”

“Jesus…” Bucky muttered as he closed the door, then took out his phone and touched the screen before putting it on speaker. “I mean it's Becca, of course she-"

“Hey there!” Becca’s cheerful voice filled the room and you looked up, still scratching the cat’s head.

“Becca, why is there a cat in our apartment?” Bucky asked, making her gasp.

“That’s your baby!”

You bit back a smile, fixing the ribbon on the cat’s leash while Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Right," he said. "And why do we have a baby on the first day of our marriage?”

“Because as you said, you’re married now which means you guys can be all responsible and stuff,” she answered. “Her name is Alpine by the way. She’s my wedding gift to you, isn’t she sweet?”

You picked Alpine up, holding her in your arms. “You know, a lot of people just sent flowers as a gift.”

“A lot of people are boring,” Becca replied. “Leila’s friend found her on the street, the poor thing! I’d keep her but Leila is allergic, so there you go. Now you two have a daughter.”

“I’ve always wanted a daughter,” you nodded solemnly and Bucky blinked a couple of times as if he couldn’t believe you were playing along.

“Y/N…”

“I gotta go now, enjoy the first night of parenthood!” Becca said and hung up, making Bucky gawk at the phone before putting it back into his pocket.

“Of course she got us a cat,” he muttered. “Of course.”

Alpine purred in your arms, making you smile down at her before looking up at Bucky.

“We should probably buy stuff for her,” you said, looking around the apartment. “A bed, some food, toys…”

Bucky’s brows rose. “Hold on, we’re keeping her?”

“Of course we are, you heard Becca. She’s our daughter, apparently,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders as you walked to the door. “Her surname will be dashed as well, by the way. Mine and yours together.”

“Y/N—”

“Come on!” you called out as you stepped out of the apartment with Alpine still purring happily and Bucky heaved a sigh, then followed you to the elevator.

Chapter 16

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob au #mob!au

256 notes · View notes

loliwrites · 4 months

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The One You Need | five

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, unannounced visitors, actual daddy issues, dysfunctional parental relationship, SMUT, brief oral [m receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex, general manhandling, spanking, hair pulling, choking, joel’s a closer, sweet soft aftercare, terms of endearment [sweetheart, pretty girl], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.4k joel miller masterlist | part four a/n: happy new years eve hunni buns! lets usher this year out and the new one in with a bang. literally and figuratively.

Joel took a long, deep breath and held it as he stretched his legs, knees cracking with the tension. He released the breath and relaxed his sore body all at the same time. His lower back was screaming with tightness. The sort that ensured he knew he was no longer as young as he once had been. The kind that told him he never would be again.

Blinking languidly and taking an extra moment to get himself awake, he found himself in an unfamiliar place. It took a couple seconds, and the sight of the stray bolt on the nightstand, until he remembered where he was. In your home. With you. He turned over to lay his gaze upon you; to catch you sleeping. But getting onto his back, quickly noticed that you were no longer in bed beside him. For long enough by this point for your side to have grown cold in the morning air. Joel glanced at the clock unhurriedly. 7:54. Far later than was normal for him. Though partaking in the activities from the previous night hadn’t been normal in his recent history either.

He got out of bed cautiously so as to not aggravate an already angry back. A groan ripped through his chest when he bent over to grab his jeans and slid them up his legs, opting to leave them unzipped and unbuttoned around his hips as he strode for the bedroom door. All seemed quiet in the house, save for the knocking of some cabinets and silverware. Joel yawned and rubbed his eye with his fist, afterward trailing that hand up to his skewed hair for a scratch. He found you with the noise. Back to him, in front of the coffee machine, with a line of cups in front of you.

Approaching silently, you made no notion of being aware he was there until a hand laid upon your ass. Lips followed suit to the side of your head.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice deep and gravelly. He squeezed his fingers into the flesh of your backside where you’d traded in being naked for his t-shirt and a pair of cotton pants.

“Hand off ass,” you grimaced through your teeth.

He pulled his hand away and held it up as innocently as possible, staring down at you with a worried gaze. What had happened between late last night and early this morning?

“What’s wrong?”

You huffed and let your shoulders sag. Maybe if you collapsed to the floor, everyone would just leave your house and you could carry on with life. But Joel replaced his hand on you, this time on your mid-back and you only tensed up a little, though was sure he noticed. “My mom and dad are here,”

Joel turned his head to the side as subtly he could muster and snuck a peek of a pair of men’s shoes in the living room he’d never seen before. He looked back at you, “take it we’re not happy about their arrival,”

A glare in his direction was answer enough. “I left because of them,”

He nodded as if assuring you that he needed no explanation. “I’ll get out of your hair. Come ‘round when they leave,”

“No, don’t go,” you rested your hands on his stomach. “They might behave better if someone else is in the house,”

He let out a breath and seemed to look down at you, authoritatively. You were leaving him in a bit of a situation – if only because you were currently in the shirt he’d come over in. “Still got my other shirt you stole?”

“I didn’t steal it!”

He let out a low hmph.

“It’s in my dresser. Middle drawer on the left,”

If you’d seen it coming, or had any inclination of it, you probably would’ve resisted, but when Joel leaned in to kiss you, it caught you so off guard that you had no other instinct than to kiss him back. To allow his lips to brush over yours softly at first, and then find their placing with more force. A clear sign to any potential onlookers that this is where I belong, against her lips.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Sitting across from your parents reminded you of every reason why you’d left, and reignited feelings in your body you thought you’d banished after moving away and creating your own little world here. Granted it had only been a month, but your body had felt lighter, your mind freer. Nothing like mom and dad to get you back to feeling inadequate and insignificant. You knew they loved you. Sure of it. But dad was loud and mom was… weak. And from it was born every fucked up conception and fear you had of relationships. Mom and dad made relationships look like a thing to avoid like the plague. To ward them off any way you could. No price was too large if it meant keeping someone at bay. Someone who may know the dark and scary things about you and then eventually use them against you without so much as a breath or a blink of an eye. To willingly show someone your weaknesses knowing they would inevitably stab you in the back with them…? Why would anyone want a relationship?

It was some point within your father’s rant of how your home was just okay – “I mean, this isn’t what I would’ve done. I would’ve changed this… this is falling apart… you spent how much? For this…?” – that you realized Joel had apparently made himself mighty comfortable in your bedroom. Safely stowed away behind a closed door. Not that you wanted to subject him to the horrors that were the humans who gave you life, but if he’d at least make his earthly presence known, maybe your dad would cool the fuck off.

“For that price you could’ve found something a little nicer somewhere in the valley.” Your dad continued on one of his rants that you’d learned to tune out. Picked at an invisible fuzz on the shirt you wore. “No use coming out here. I’m sure peak summer’s just about the most awful thing. And winter? Gonna be miserable…”

The clearing of a throat saved you. Lifted you from this realm and tossed you into a different one. A better one. All three of you looked up at the same time, but only you smiled when you laid eyes upon Joel standing in the threshold. Arms dangling at his sides, almost uncomfortable with their lack of something to do.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he glanced at your father, not giving heads or tails of what he was really thinking. He took a couple steps into the room, jutting his thumb back over his shoulder, “gotta grab some stuff from my place to fix your door.”

You hopped up from your seat and met him halfway. “I have tools,” sounding too eager to keep him on the perimeter of your property.

“As much as I love that floral screwdriver, it’s gonna take a bit more,” he pursed his lips together, eyes darting over your face to pick up any intricacies of your expression. “Y’good?”

A nod was all you could muster. A weak thing that bowed your head until your eyeline was even with Joel’s chest. You’d turn back to your parents as soon as he turned to leave, but not a moment before then. Why return to that when you could live here for just a little bit longer, almost like you could pretend they weren’t there at all. And in the pause, Joel lifted a hand and curled it to the back of your neck, fingers pressing against skin to inch you closer to him. Just close enough for him to lay a gentle kiss on your forehead. He lingered there with a deep inhale. And having grown uncomfortable with the closeness and perceived intimacy in front of your parents, you pulled away and looked up at him.

You weren’t sure what he was thinking at that moment. Wasn’t sure of his game plan or endgame. But in the split-second you pulled away from his lips on your forehead, he leaned back in and pressed a quick peck to your lips. And his slight smirk after he stood back to his full height and left was all you needed to see. He’s gonna get the shit slapped out of him.

The front door clicked back in place before you turned back toward your parents to face the questions you knew were coming.

“Who was that?” Your mom asked. She speaks! She breathes! She lives!

“The handyman,”

“You kiss your handyman?” Good question, dad.

“He’s also my neighbor,”

“You kiss your neighbors?”

Instead of answering and opting to sit back down, it gave your dad time to interject yet again.

“He’s kind of old,”

“What’re you doing here? I’d appreciate a heads up,”

Your mom sat forward, “sweetheart, we just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Somehow that name didn’t sound as nice as it did when it came off of Joel’s tongue. And you also knew that wasn’t entirely it. They hadn’t cared to stop by and see how you were doing when you lived in the same town as them. Never dropped in to check out your apartment there. Really you knew it was because the version of you they once held so much control over had slipped away. And with the distance from your move, it seemed that you’d slipped away entirely. Despite dad’s total lack of emotion and mom’s “woe-is-me” attitude, you knew they knew it, too. You’d never be coming back to “old home”.

The front door creaked back open and you turned your head to watch the newcomer who went to great lengths to avoid eye contact. He’d changed out of the t-shirt and into a green flannel, the sleeves halfway rolled up and his renewed presence only halted your dad momentarily from talking about himself.

A fleeting thought passed through your brain about what Joel thought of all this. Did he think you were being too hard on your family? Did he think they were absolute nuts? Did he get why the choice between staying or uprooting your life was an easy one? But mostly you thought about how you didn’t want him to think differently of you because of your parents. You didn’t want him to see shades of you in them and have that change his perception. They were never meant to be here. And you’d moved across the country to have a better chance at that being reality.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Despite many failed attempts, you finally urged your parents out of the house come evening by insisting there were a few work deadlines you were behind on. Work was always the perfect excuse because they never care to understand what it was you did anyway. They made a half-hearted mention about swinging by tomorrow before their flight, but you made up another excuse about work and knew they wouldn’t fight it. You locked the door behind them and turned, coming face to face with Joel, who stood a few feet away from you, twirling the oven bolt in his fingers.

The only thing you knew to do was take a breath, so you did. Let it sit and linger in your chest hoping he’d be the one to break the silence.

“Back door’s fixed,”

Ever the gentleman.

With a grateful nod, you approached him. The urge to slap him silly had worn off – long after your parents had grown inquisitive of him. You bowed your head forward and rested it against his chest; the feel of his heartbeat serving as a new exercise in grounding. He wrapped an arm around you, hand settling on your ass again, pride swelling in him when you didn’t reprimand it away as you had earlier.

“You wanna talk about it?” A pause was punctuated with his fingers squeezing your backside. Keeping your head firmly against his chest, you shook it. “Y’wanna help me fix your oven?” Another pause was met with another shake of your head and the laugh that rumbled through Joel’s chest was almost enough to pull you out of the funk your parents had put you into. “How ‘bout you keep me company then, while I get to fixin’ it,”

And that you could agree to. Though not before a kiss to try and make everything better. For the first time that day, despite having spent a fantastic night together, a real, substantial kiss was able to take place. Lips meeting and parting in sync, tongues hesitant until they met each other. Even then, they remained even-paced. Like the unhurried, practiced ministrations of old lovers.

He pulled away first despite a groan from you, and took your hand, leading you into the kitchen. You made for the counter and hopped up on it to supervise while he went straight for the next appliance to fix. As he bent down and opened the oven door, inspecting some of the places the bolt could’ve come from, you wondered how much money you would’ve lost at this point had he not insert himself in your life. First with your bed, then the fridge, and the back door, and now this.

“Y’know, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go to work.”

You blinked, realizing you’d zoned out, staring at his ass. You furrowed your eyebrows, “are you implying I don’t have a job, Miller?”

“No, no. Jus’ implyin’ you’re not very good at it,” he shot you a smile. Only a momentary shift in his focus. Long enough to rile you but not long enough for you to respond before he looked back at the oven and wordlessly set the bolt at what looked to be a hole in the hinge to the oven door missing the exact part.

“I’m a copywriter,” you mused, watching as he plucked a screwdriver (one much larger and serious looking than your floral one) from his toolbox.

He started to tighten the bolt into the hole. “Oh yeah? ‘S’pretty cool,”

“Boring,”

Joel gave the bolt a couple more turns with the screwdriver before it was tightened to his liking. He sat back on his knees and closed the oven door. Fixed. “Well it got you this house, so…”

You nodded in agreement. That job had gotten you everything you’d ever wanted. A house of your own far, far away from blood relatives. A sanctuary. Peace. It had even gotten you something you didn’t think you wanted. A ridiculously attractive, handy neighbor.

Joel was back in front of you then. Hands resting on your thighs, he made a spot for himself between your legs. With you on the counter, he now found you at his height, and lowered his forehead against yours. “You wanna go out and get some dinner with me,”

Arms reached forward and wrapped around his shoulders, “when?”

“Tonight. Now,” he smirked and lifted his head just enough to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, “ya nut.”

“Like a date?”

Now he fully leaned back and cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what was the right answer here. If he said yes, would you read far too into it and climb back into the shell he’d been working you out of? And if he said no, would you be disappointed that he didn’t want to be seen with you in public in that way? As he had done with everything thus far, he decided to go with the truth. Worst case scenario, he’d have to call you out and set you back in line. “Yes,”

And you only nodded. Your arms squeezed over his shoulders, fingertips pressing into the rippling muscles of his back. Surely a date with Joel Miller would be leaps and bounds better than your last date. “Could you do me a favor first?”

Joel smiled. His eyes flicked from yours, up to the top of your head where a piece of hair was threatening to fall loose and dangle in your eyeline. With deft fingertips, he brushed it back and nodded.

“Can you rail me?”

“Are people still saying ‘railed’?” He chuckled and stepped in closer, between your thighs. Hands grabbed on to them with intention.

This time you were the one to push your fingers through his hair, combing through those graying curls. “I think that’s the best adjective for what I want,”

“Yeah?” He studied you, not needing to search too far to realize there was a correlation between the torrid thoughts in your head about your parents, and you wanting him to knock them out. “I think I might be able to do that,” he grinned, partially disheartened. There was doubt on his end whether his body would fail that specific task after the day he’d spent bent over fixing your back door. “Might have to cut an old man some slack,”

You smiled softly and brushed your fingers through his hair again. With a nod and the hooking of your ankles around his back to cage him between your thighs, you planted a kiss to his lips. Just a chaste little thing to kick things off, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he opted to take the reins. But there was still one territory you had yet to venture into: the blowjob. And perhaps that wasn’t necessarily the go-to first step on the road to getting railed, but you were anxious to check it off the list. A nervousness bubbling at the surface even as you pressed against his stomach and inched him a couple steps back. In your eyes you had every right to be. Though you’d never been flat out told you were bad at it, it was never high on your list of pleasurable things to do and you were sure your general lack of enthusiasm around the act was picked up on by the men on the receiving end. Yet in this moment, you still knelt to the floor in front of him, hands fumbling with his jeans as the nerves manifested by causing your fingers to tremble.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to,” Joel whispered, undoubtedly picking up on your anxiety. He even covered your hands with one of his, giving the permission to stop.

The out was appreciated but it didn’t keep you from the task you’d put yourself to. Despite his hands in the way, you managed to unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down with skill you didn’t even know you had. “I want to,”

“Y’sure?”

You tilted your head to the side and glanced up at him. That’s all it took. Because you both knew you wouldn’t have gotten on your knees in the first place if you hadn’t genuinely wanted to be there. And before you lost the nerve to remain there, you nudged his pants down over his ass. Quiet giggles of contentment emanating from you when his hands joined in the fun and helped push the jeans down his thighs and past his knees. Now confronted with a growing (literally) situation, it was impossible for you to subdue the involuntary shiver that ran up your spine and attacked every inch of your body. You tried to dispel it by reaching for Joel’s member; the outline of it straining against his boxer briefs. But that sort of luck wasn’t on your side. Had never been on your side. And every boy you’d ever found yourself in this situation with never so much as blinked an eye before they pushed themselves into your mouth.

But this man in front of you. He was steadfastly attuned to you. Picking up on every single one of the cues. At the sight of your entire body shivering, Joel lowered his hand to the side of your face and brushed your hair away from it. He cupped your jaw and tilted your chin up until you looked up at him again. Waiting for him, you raised a hand and traced the outline of his cock in his underwear, giving it a gentle squeeze after your fingers had run its length.

“Don’t stay down there too long,” he said with a smirk, and catching your questioning look, he glided the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. “I’m not gonna last,”

You tried to suppress a smile so as to not give him any ideas that you were going to mock him for it. The truth couldn’t be further from that. In actuality, you were flattered by the admission, and more than a little thankful that it seemed to serve as another out for you. You’d get to cross something off whatever list you’d made up in your mind, but wouldn’t have to be committed to be at it for very long. That somehow seemed to relieve some of the pressure you’d put on yourself.

“Get to work, pretty girl,” he murmured, taking you out of whatever inner monologue had you so preoccupied. “Just a taste,”

Focused back at his waist, you peeled back his underwear, reaching in with your free hand to take him out of the tight fabric. It wasn’t the first time you were seeing the sheer size of him but being on it face first now made it seem that much bigger. How you ever managed to fit it inside you was one thing. How you’d fit it in your mouth was another. Yet you started on, pressing your lips to the underside of the head softly, and moving down his length with brief kisses. Joel let out a deep breath through his nose and let his fingertips toy with your hair. You hadn’t noticed that his eyes were glued to you until you looked up at him and caught his stare. Opening your mouth and purposefully batting your eyelashes, you took him into your mouth and let your tongue swirl around the crown. It was the first thing you did that made Joel let out a throaty groan. So you repeated the action and got the same lusty response from him.

“That’s good, sweetheart,”

Your mouth stretched wider around him to accommodate a smile, but then you gently shook your head side to side, working your lips lower and lower on his shaft. At about halfway, you realized there was no shot of taking him in his entirety. The temptation to gag was already there and you lifted your hands to the remainder of his length to help along. But then you felt one of Joel’s hands migrate to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, and your body stiffened on instinct. Flicking your eyes upward and catching Joel with his head tilted back and jaw slack, you kept your body stiff, trying to work through that impact. Then you closed your eyes hoping that if you couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see you, and the fear growing in your gut would dissipate.

Maybe it was the tension in your jaw. Maybe he picked up on the tension in your entire body. Regardless, his fingers, albeit still tangled in your hair, seemed to grow gentler. A lack of pressure while still being present. “‘M’not gonna push you down on it,”

Eyes flicked back open to inspect him. A pink hue had arisen in his neck and was working its way up to his cheeks. His nostrils flared in his damnedest attempt to keep himself from thrusting deeper down your throat. Catching that his words were the truth, you relaxed once again; the anxiety fleeing every fiber of your being. Consciously back in your body and picking back up where you’d left off, you tilted your head to the side, allowing the head of his cock to press along the inside of your cheek. The sight of your mouth stretched to accommodate him resulted in a low pitched growl from Joel. Something terribly needy. Hungry.

You noticed his eyes flutter shut while the muscles in his stomach flexed and released in a steady procession. The sinew in his forearm flexed, too, with the clenching of his fist in your hair. And given slightly more freedom by the lack of eye contact, you pulled your lips off his shaft and replaced it with quick, sloppy strokes from your hand. Your mouth was not far from him for long. Lips navigating around the way your hand held his member up, you pressed them to his balls and smirked to yourself when you saw the way his body responded when you eventually rolled your tongue over them, paying each temporary attention.

Joel kept his promise and didn’t use his grip on your hair to press you down on him, but did use it in order to pull you off of him. Your swollen lips fell open when you were forced to stare up at him, his chest heaving like his heart was trying to break free from its cage.

“That’s enough,” he growled and all but lifted you back to your feet without any help from you.

It took him no time at all to spin you around with ass pressed back against the edge of the counter. He set one hand on the granite top behind you and cupped the other down past the waistband of your cotton pants. His fingers found your clit with practiced ease. A move he’d obviously spent the better half of his life perfecting. And no sooner did his fingers trail along your slit, your lips met each other with fervor. The barrier of your parents for the most of the day had created a feeding frenzy between you. Neither able to get as much as you wanted fast enough. Mashing of lips and tongues. Teeth grazing against soft, plush skin. You were all erratic movements and whimpering pleas to keep going. Only when Joel pressed two fingers inside of you did your mouth drop open, causing a delay. An airy gasp floated out of your lungs and into the space between.

Joel dropped his forehead to yours, eyes piercing into you though you weren’t returning his gaze. How could you? Fingers down to their last knuckle had you squeezing your eyes shut and doing your absolute best to not become a trembling mess then and there.

“Please… please,” you sobbed, fingernails digging into his back. You knew crescent-shaped marks would be littering his skin despite the flannel. You were marking him. Yours for now. Yours for tonight.

An almost sadistic smile crossed Joel’s lips. Fingers curled inside of you and sent you lurching forward, wrapping up against his chest. Legs already shaking and squeezing shut around his hand. “Look at you. Already begging f’me,” he lowered himself just enough to tuck his head to your neck, leaving love bites on your skin. “Suckin’ my cock got you so wet. Already desperate for it,”

“Joel,”

“Tell me,”

You raised your hips into the heel of his palm, finding that friction on your clit was just about the last thing you needed to get to the first climax of the evening. Fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, tugging him close as if that was going to be the thing that’d get him to keep his fingers inside you. Really, you knew he didn’t have any intention of letting you go without them. But the new closeness, and the way he towered over you, a looming presence with broad, square shoulders diminishing any size you might’ve had… and the smell of him… You came with a whimper, unable to have forewarned him of the spring being snapped inside you. His fingers slowed only enough so as to not hurt you but never stopped entirely. Even when you tried to wriggle away from him, overstimulated. He just curled his fingers inside of you again, against the spongy front of your throbbing core, and kept you right at the edge you’d just fallen over.

“Please–God, please, fuck me,” you reached forward and wrapped your hand around his shaft again, tugging and stroking him impatiently.

“I know that mouth can do better than that,” he mocked. “Tell me,”

You could cry, wanting something far more substantial inside you than two of his fingers. “I need it, Joel. Please,” stinging tears threatened to fall from the corners of your eyes. “Want you to bend me over and fuck me,” you figured you were on the right track when he slowly eased his fingers out of your dripping hole and replaced them with quick circles over your bundle of sensitive nerves. “Want you to make it hurt,”

While to you, you didn’t notice any hesitation on Joel’s end. He just spun you around and bent you over the countertop. He kicked your feet out from under you until you were being held up solely by the counter and the press of his hips. But he had clocked your words. Make it hurt. Knew he wanted to remember that. Knew he wanted to talk about that at some later time.

Make it hurt.

He grabbed your wrists and secured them behind your back with one of his hands while his other went to the base of his cock and notched it at your entrance. Still dripping from your first orgasm, it was enough to not notice the stretch from the head too greatly. But then he moved that hand to the back of your head and pressed against it, holding you down on the countertop. You were defenseless. Unable to move at all. Hands rendered useless and body being held in place for every one of his whims. And there wasn’t any time to process before he snapped his hips forward and buried himself inside you to the hilt. Bottomed out in one fell swoop. A scream erupted from your throat, very nearly feeling like your vocal cords would be on their way to being shredded. Joel shushed you; a hiss between clenched teeth, only giving a second for your string of loud breaths to sound a little less pained before he began to move, stretching you to the max with each drag and push.

It didn’t take long for those screams and breaths to quiet down to nothing. Just a mouth gaping open, sucking wind as his length rubbed against the deepest parts of you. He wasn’t holding back. He was doing just as you’d asked. He was making it hurt. But your quietness was thwarted by his hand coming down hard against your ass. It was only then that you’d realized he’d removed it from the back of your head. A deep gasp filled your lungs with fresh air. The smack had left a sting and burn on your skin, and the returned noise from you spurred Joel on.

He landed another spank to the opposite cheek, flesh bouncing beneath it from both his hand and the press of his cock. “You like that, huh?” Another spank, this time his hand didn’t pull away on the impact, and instead his fingers dug into your fleshy backside, “look even prettier with my handprint on ya’.” His hips faltered, progress stuttered when you clenched around him, pulling him deeper. He used that momentum to lean forward and bite into the back of your shoulder, “good fuckin’ girl. So fuckin’ tight. Love it so much,”

“It’s yours,” you panted, legs having gone completely out beneath you. You were sure you’d crumble to the floor if he parted from you. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“Hmm?” he hummed, burying his face in the back of your head, “I’m gonna come.”

“I’m yours. It’s all yours,”

A particularly hard thrust squished you against the counter, your hipbone colliding with it. You yelped and you weren’t sure if it was from the painful impact on your hip or the feeling of Joel spilling into you. He kept himself deep. Short thrusts to fill you with his spend, and only once he’d finished pushing it into you as deep as he could, did he pull out. Though you hadn’t come, you felt well-fucked despite it. Not even missing the rush of a second orgasm. But no sooner had he pulled out, were you being whirled around, facing him now; your ass notched at the cool, stone countertop. He stared endlessly into your eyes and pushed himself back inside you without a second thought. Only when he’d sheathed himself in completely and caught your off-kilter expression, did he move his hand up to your neck, fingers squeezing either side of it.

“Didn’t think we were done, did you, sweetheart?” He squeezed your neck a little tighter and you reached up to hold onto his wrist. You applied no pressure to get him to loosen his grip, just kept it there for the contact. “I know this pussy’s got one more orgasm in her,”

A guttural moan left your body. The new angle was far more conducive to your pleasure. The base of him rubbing up against your clit. Your eyes blinked languidly, threatening to stay closed, but Joel used his grasp on your neck to shake you. Once your eyes fully opened again, he brought his free hand to the back of your head and gave your hair a generous tug.

“C’mon, pretty girl. You can do it. Soak me,”

He mashed his lips back to yours and licked his way into your mouth. It was everything you wanted. Needed. The overwhelmingness of his size. The dominance. The control. Your walls fluttered around him and he urged you on some more. Words of encouragement matched by the strengthening of his hold on your throat or the one in your hair. And when you came, eyes drifting shut and remaining so, body convulsing and squeezing his length, you felt his hands loosening their hold on you. Not leaving completely, but certainly not applying any type of pressure as they had just previously been.

Your body went limp in his arms. Had it not been for your heavy breaths, he might’ve thought he’d done some actual damage. But your breaths were trying to grow steadier and were mixed with the whimpers of someone who’d asked for one thing, had gotten it, and now needed something else entirely.

Joel pressed his lips to the side of your head, lingering against your temple as he carefully stepped out of his pants and underwear that had bunched up at his ankles. You groaned at the soft jostling it created for, and Joel just hushed you and tucked his arms around your back and beneath your knees. He lifted you up and kept you cradled to his chest where you complained again. This time a quick mention of his back.

“I got’cha, sweetheart,” he bounced you in his arms just once to get a better hold on your body. “Don’t worry about it,”

Eyes completely shut, too heavy to keep them open for very long, you knew he was carrying you to the bathroom. This man and your pH balance. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on to him as tightly as you could, wanting no amount of separation. But before you knew it, you felt the cold porcelain of the toilet beneath you. Joel’s hands uncurling your arms from around his neck, then moving to the hem of your shirt and pulling it off, over your head. Soon thereafter, he unhooked your bra and slid it off your arms.

Concern started to work its way into Joel’s bones. The sight of you, nearly swaying to the side when he released you completely. He made quick work of turning the shower on, fearing you’d topple to the side and hit your head on the way down. Returning to you with urgency, he crouched down and brushed your hair away from your neck, searching for any marks he’d left behind. “Y’alright?” He whispered, finding some red patches on your skin but none too definitive to be seen as marks from his fingers.

Eyes still closed, you pressed a smile, “good.” You blinked your tired eyes open, looking down at your feet as Joel unraveled your pants from around your ankles that had been hanging on by a thread. “You hurt me like I asked you to,”

His eyes flicked up to you. Make it hurt. The words he was holding onto. He held onto these new ones too, keeping them for later. “Maybe too much,” he murmured, gathering a wipe from on top of the toilet tank.

“No,”

Though you’d said it in earnest, he had a hard time believing it. Your eyes were mostly closed. But his eyes were seeing all the consequences of the way he’d handled you. Thinking better of fighting you on that, he helped you up from the toilet. His body kept you upright while he wiped along your slit, cleaning up the mess he’d so haphazardly made. You were pliant in his arms, willing to trust that he’d take care of you as he always had, despite the new territory you’d ventured into today with each other.

He led you to the shower and carefully peeled his flannel shirt from his body while helping maintain your balance. As he helped you in and kept his chest flush to your back, he caught sight of the bruise forming on the left side of your hip and knew it had been his doing. Easing down to the floor, both sat at the end of the steady stream of water, warm against you both from the shower and from Joel’s body heat. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, turning in toward his neck.

“Sure you’re alright?” He set his cheek down on top of your head and wrapped his arms around you, “I marked you up pretty good.”

“I’m okay,” you insisted. “I don’t break easily,”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.”

Now with open eyes, you tilted your head back and looked up at him. Your smile caught his worried expression and you hoped to dispel it. He’d only done as you asked. And so perfectly so. Maybe he’d ask you about it somewhere down the line. Why you’d asked him to make it hurt? Why had that been the chosen wording? It was evident in his eyes now that he likely wouldn’t be so accommodating to comply the next time you asked him to make it hurt. Yet you raised your hands and curled them behind his head to get him closer to you. Close enough to kiss. Slowly. Tenderly. Quiet assurance that he was still the good man you knew him to be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the one you need

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wheresarizona · 26 days

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Learning to Live Part 32

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hadn't wanted one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Big tantrum?” Benito asked.

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

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

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

The other two men were smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What did he mean by that?

“What about you, Javi?” Ken asked.

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

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

He met the other man’s eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know—are you okay, baby?”

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

Oh, she was drunk and missed him.

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

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

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

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

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

He could tell she held the phone toward them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was already on the road heading toward town.

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

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

“Probably.” He shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Meh, you’re cuter.”

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

“Fine.”

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

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

His mouth turned down in a frown.

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

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

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

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

“Calling Javi,” Cielito answered.

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

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

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

“I need him,” she whined.

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

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

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

“Yes?” she answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, baby, I’m still here.”

“Where are you?”

“Maybe ten minutes away.”

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

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

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

What she said had Javier grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To your left.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looked so cute and it had him smiling.

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

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

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

“Oh my god, yesss!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that moisturizer?”

“Yes.”

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

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

Her bottom lip was trembling, and it worried him.

“You love me,” she whispered.

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

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

“You love me,” she repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?” he whispered.

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

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

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

“I mean it this time.”

“Uh-huh, right.”

“I do—this is embarrassing.”

“I think it’s good practice.”

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

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

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

His eyebrows furrowed. “Seahorses?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re definitely more badass than me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still feel sick?”

“Not really—just dizzy.”

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

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

“Okay, mi amor.”

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

“Yes, Cielito?”

“You’re worth it.”

“Worth what…?”

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

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

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

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

“And I can’t fucking wait, Mr. Peña.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She giggled. "Your babies will be spoiled."

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

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

"I know," you sighed.

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

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

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

She straightened and turned around to pick it up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sound of his voice had your heart beating faster.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we alone?" he countered

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

"Yep."

“You feel beautiful.”

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

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

Your eyebrows creased. “Orders? What orders?”

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

“That is insane.”

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

“It’s sweet and extremely intense.”

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

You smiled. “Gotta love loopholes.”

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

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

“Maybe both?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, mi amor?”

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

"Not as good as you."

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

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

"A beautiful mess."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm in love."

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

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

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just wanna know.”

“But why does it matter?”

“You’re deflecting.”

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is better…”

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

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

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

“Yes, Cielito?”

“I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married today, and I hope you like my dress.”

He smiled brightly. “I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married, too. I’m gonna love your dress.”

“I hope so.”

“Baby, you could show up in a paper bag, and I’d be blown away.”

“The bar is so low. Do you wanna feel what I’ll be wearing under the dress?”

The pink of his tongue quickly peeked between his lips, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

His timbre deepened. “Yes.”

You poked your head out the window to ensure no one was around, then loosened the belt, holding your robe shut. Taking his hand, you started at your shoulder beneath the silk, letting his fingertips graze over the bare skin, trailing them down to the lacy cup of your strapless bra. He couldn’t help himself and palmed your covered breast before you moved his hand once more to continue the journey downward, where he got to feel the smooth, stretchy material hugging your middle; you let his fingers find that the spandex covering the warmth between your thighs, too.

“Not very sexy,” you said. “Well, the bra is cute. The rest is so I don’t look lumpy in the dress or have panty lines.”

He was about to say something, but you spoke before he had a chance. “Yes, Javier, I know you love my natural body, including the bits I don’t, but I wanna look my very best, and that means Spanx.”

He was frowning. “Are they uncomfortable?”

It warmed your heart that he was concerned for your comfort.

"Not really," you answered truthfully. "They're like my bicycle shorts, so stretchy and breathable. Will it make you feel better to know I have sexier bottoms I'm gonna wear when I change into my comfier dress after food and our first dance?"

He didn't know what your wedding dress looked like, but he had seen the one you were changing into after it.

His free hand went to the window frame, feeling along it until he found where the opened window stopped and ducked his head under it. His face was close to yours, one of his palms still between your legs, the other carefully sliding up the edge of your open robe.

"I'd prefer you wear no panties," he rasped, pulling the silk off your shoulder. His mouth pressed to the newly revealed skin, the soft kiss of his lips and tickle of his mustache, paired with his hand on your pussy beginning to rub, had sparks dancing down your spine. "It's gonna make me hard," his words were muffled between kisses as he moved across your shoulder toward your neck, "seeing you in your wedding dress.” Your fingers went into the hair at the back of his head, his spare hand palming your breast. “I'm gonna lose my fucking mind hearing you say 'I do.'" He was kissing and nibbling at your throat now, the added friction of his palm at the crux of your thighs making it hard to think. "It's gonna drive me fucking crazy that you're my wife—my wife,” he repeated against your throat. “And I’ll be your husband—I already want you, but all I’ll be able to think about after we’re pronounced husband and wife is getting you alone, and if you’re not wearing panties, it’ll make it easier for me to lift up that pretty—“

“No, Javier!” Robyn interrupted, and you felt cold water mist against your bare skin, the spray bottle hissing near your ear. “Bad!”

“Fuck!” he yelped, his head narrowly missing the bottom of the raised window as he pushed back from you so fast you’d think he was burned. His expression had turned grumpy as he stood. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I promised your daddy I wouldn’t let you see her,” she said, looking mad. “But out of the kindness of my heart—” She pressed a hand to the left side of her chest. “—I went against my word to your father, and how do you repay me? By wastin’ time gettin’ fresh with your fiancée when I’m riskin’ your daddy bein’ madder than a box of frogs at me for not doin’ what I said I’d do—you’re bein’ real rude Javier Peña, exploitin’ my niceness and I’d appreciate you sayin’ your goodbyes, and bein’ on your way.”

His eyes were covered, but it was visible how his face shifted from grumpy to guilty.

“I’m sorry, Robyn,” he said.

“Apology accepted. Say goodbye, and then we gotta get back to work.”

“Okay,” he replied.

The other woman headed back to the en suite. Leaning forward, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to step toward you.

“Thank you for coming to see me or, you know, talk to me,” you told him.

He smiled, squeezing your palm. “There was zero chance of me waiting to talk to you until the wedding. I love you too much.”

“I’m happy you did, and I love you, too.”

He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know you will, and I’ll be there.”

Javi sighed. “I better go. Bye, Cielito,” he said and didn’t move.

“You’re gonna see me in a little bit—get going, babe.”

He sighed again. “Fine. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

This time, he quickly pecked the back of your hand and started quietly walking along the front of the house. You assumed he had taken off the sleep mask to sneak away.

You closed and locked the window, shutting the blinds and curtains, feeling happy that you'd be seeing him again soon.

It took some time to finish getting ready, as you wanted to look perfect. Robyn did a fantastic job on your makeup, and your hair turned out well. When you saw yourself all dolled up and wearing your dress, you almost couldn't believe it was your reflection staring back at you in the mirror.

The white, silky satin hugged your curves as it cascaded to the ground to pool around your feet, the fabric having some stretch to it so your movements weren’t hindered. The neckline dipped in a slight V, your upper back bare from under your armpits up, and thin straps went over your shoulders connecting the two sides.

With how the satin draped over your figure, perfectly fitting the contours of your body, then flared out below your knees, it had a Morticia Addams feel to it—change the color of it to black, add sleeves, and you’d find it in her closet.

Javi was right. You looked so amazing that he was absolutely going to get a boner when he saw you.

And wasn't that just the sweetest thing?

A man so in love with you he gets aroused even when you're fully clothed because he thinks you're that pretty. He was also the kind of guy who sometimes got too excited from a kiss, and you had to wait a little while in the car for him to calm down…

"What do you think?" Robyn asked beside you. She'd put on her dress—a lavender-colored, A-line, floor-length gown with ruffled short sleeves and a V-neckline that, as an added bonus, had pockets.

You met her eyes in the mirror. "That I've never looked more beautiful—if you ever wanted to get out of nursing, you'd be a fantastic makeup artist."

She smiled, her full lips painted in rose-pink lipstick. "Thank you, but I prefer doin' it as a hobby and bein' able to help my friends out."

"Well, thank you for making me look insanely pretty."

"All I did was enhance what was already there, girl—Javi's gonna lose it."

"I hope he does."

A knock sounded from the bedroom door, and without a word, your friend went to see who it was.

"Is it okay for Chucho to see you?" Robyn called from the other room.

"Yes!" you answered, and nerves started fluttering in your belly over what he'd think.

Within seconds, your father-in-law was standing in the doorway, where you faced him with a grin.

"Dios mío (My God)," he gasped, his hand going to his mouth, “eres tan hermosa (you’re so beautiful)!” His dark eyes behind his glasses started to shine.

He was wearing light grey slacks, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a tie in the same shade as Robyn’s dress resting against his chest from a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, his camera dangling from a strap around his neck; as usual, his long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

“Ese vestido es perfecto (That dress is perfect)!” he said. “Estoy tan feliz de que lo hayas elegido porque te ves increíble (I’m so happy you chose it because you look amazing). Javi se va a volver loco (Javi is going to go crazy)."

"You really think so?" you asked, looking down at your outfit.

"Oh, yes." He nodded. "He's not going to leave you alone. We'll have to get a crowbar to pry him away from you."

You giggled, looking at him. "Yeah, I have a feeling he's gonna be stuck to me all night."

"When isn't he?"

The question made you laugh. "Touché."

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to," the older man started, "but I went through mi amor's jewelry to see if there was anything I thought you might want to wear—it could be your something old—” You hadn’t figured out what to do for something old; your something new was the perfume Javi got you for Christmas that you saved for today so he’d have a scent memory. Something borrowed was Chucho’s land, where your ceremony and party would take place, and something blue was a garter from Robyn around your thigh under your dress. “—and I found this necklace,” he said.

That's when you realized he was holding a large, thin, black leather box in his other hand.

Chucho walked closer to you, holding it in a palm, while the other lifted the hinged top—the necklace was made up of many silver waves connected together, purple sapphires resting in each dip, that you counted seventeen in total. It was stunning, the metal and precious gemstones glimmering beneath the lighting.

"I gave this to mi Antonia on our twentieth anniversary," he told you. "We'd visit her family in Mexico two, three times a year, and always for Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). On one visit, she saw this necklace and fell in love with it—it's Taxco silver and known for its high quality; many pieces made with it are crafted by hand and marked, so you know it's real. She wouldn't let me buy it for her because she thought it was too expensive for something she’d hardly wear, but the way she looked at it, I had to get it for her anyway, so I did and surprised her with it on our anniversary; she yelled at me," he chuckled, smiling. "Then had me put it on her and covered my face in kisses." He sighed fondly. "I think if she were here today, this is what she would've chosen for you, too—if you don’t like it, we can go upstairs for you to pick something else out..."

"No, Pop," you said quickly, meeting his gaze. There was a lump in your throat at the thought he'd put into finding you this piece of jewelry. "It's perfect, and I'd love to wear it. Can you help me put it on, please?"

"Yes, Mija." He set the open box on the bathroom counter and picked up the necklace with the same care as you would a newborn. Turning so your back was to him, he had an end in each hand as his arm went over your head to get the silver and sapphires around the front of your neck, clasping it at the back. He stepped away, and you faced him again.

There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were soft. "Mi hija hermosa (My beautiful daughter).” The sentence had your breath hitching. “¿Ella es preciosa, no (She is gorgeous, right)?" he asked Robyn. She understood Spanish but had a hard time speaking it.

The other woman was beside him, grinning. "She sure is," she agreed. "A real stunner."

"I'm so happy this day has finally come." Tears were brimming on his eyelids, and he took off his glasses to wipe them away. "I just wish mi amor was here to see our son marry such a wonderful woman."

Your eyes were burning as you held back from crying. He'd put his eyeglasses back on, and you stepped forward to hug him, being careful of your makeup. His arms went around you, squeezing you back.

"I wish she was here, too," you said. "At least we've got you, the best dad in the whole world. I love you, Pop."

"I love you, too, Mija. Thank you for loving my son and making him the happiest I've ever seen. We're blessed to have you in our lives, and I can't tell you how much joy I feel that you've decided to take our last name; I think it suits you better."

"I think it suits me better, too."

“You’re gonna kill the grass if you keep walking back and forth like that,” the other man told him.

They were at the oak tree on the hill, and the sun was getting close to setting. Javier had his whole outfit on: a black tuxedo and bow tie, white shirt, and lavender pocket square—he’d borrowed a pair of his father’s golden cufflinks, and one of his mother’s violet roses was pinned to his lapel. He didn’t have a cigarette to calm his nerves, so he was pacing, but the comment had him stopping with a sigh.

"Are you wearing a hole in the ground 'cause you're being impatient?" Steve continued. "Or are you nervous?"

His gaze went to his best friend, who was standing in front of him holding a small, white, heart-shaped pillow adorned in lace that went around the edges—there were two golden rings, one bigger than the other, secured to the top of it by a satin ribbon tied into a bow. The older man was dressed in a charcoal-colored suit he regularly wore to work, with a new tie provided by Javier that matched his lavender pocket square. Nate was in a carrier on his back; the parents put the one-year-old in a onesie that made him look like he was wearing a tuxedo and some dark pants, the child happily chewing on a football-shaped teething toy.

His hands went to his hips as he frowned. “Both?” Javier answered. “I can’t wait to see her, and I’m nervous about saying shi-stuff—“ He quickly corrected himself with the children present. “—I usually save for when we’re alone.”

Steve was giving him a weird look. “My kids are here. This ‘stuff’ is appropriate for them to hear, right…? It’s not anything… lewd…?”

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not anything like that, you judgemental pri-prude.”

The blonde man’s free hand went up in a placating gesture. “Hey, you said you save it for when you’re alone, and y’all have stayed at our house—any time the two of you were alone, you… folded laundry.”

“Folded laundry…?”

“Javi,” Connie said to get his attention, and he looked over to where she was fussing with the purple bow in Olivia’s hair. “You know when there’s a big load of laundry that requires two adults to fold, and they have to lock the bedroom door so there aren’t any distractions.”

Oh, ‘folding laundry’ was their code word for sex—that was smart.

“Mom and Dad have been folding a lot of laundry together lately,” Olivia added with a quizzical expression. “I didn’t know it was so hard to do alone—the baskets don’t seem that big.”

Javier smiled, his head turning from one parent to the other, seeing they were avoiding his eyes and blushing—good for them, fucking regularly.

“It’s more satisfying to do laundry with someone, so it gets done quicker,” he said.

“Doesn’t seem to get done quicker,” she replied.

Steve cleared his throat before he spoke. “Anyways, enough about laundry—what are you planning to say that’s got you nervous, Jav?”

He stopped smiling and scratched his mustache. “Uh, like, lovey-dovey, romantic crap…”

His best friend’s smile grew into a shit-eating grin. “What, like, super cheesy stuff? Are you gonna read the poetry you wrote about her eyes in your diary or something?”

Javier ground his teeth.

"Leave him alone, Steve," Connie said. "In our wedding video, before I walked down the aisle, you were clearly figuring out where all of the nearest exits were in the church. It’s refreshing and sweet that Javi’s gonna be vulnerable in front of everyone for the woman he loves.”

"I was checking where the exits were in case of a fire!" Steve rebuked. "All those candles they lit made me nervous."

"If that's what you tell yourself." She didn’t sound convinced.

“I was! Why did we need to be here forty-five minutes early?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “I was really enjoying the food your aunties were feeding us back at the house.”

There wasn’t a chance for Javier to respond; the answer to the question was he wanted to show how eager he was to marry the woman he actually loved and avoid any chance of being late—it also was a ‘fuck you’ to the people betting against him at the bar.

"Tío, tío!" The three-year-old Stevie shouted, running up to him; he was holding a Ninja Turtle action figure he'd been playing with in the grass.

Javier smiled, his attention moving to the child, crouching to be at his level. "Yes, mi principito (my little prince)?"

"We match!" His tiny finger pointed at his little light purple bow tie over his white dress shirt. The kid refused to wear a regular tie like his dad, and the only way they got him to agree to the clip-on bow tie was by telling him Javier had one, too.

His friends weren't by any means struggling with money, but Javier and his wif-fiancée, sent them a check to pay for their trip to Texas, which included flights, lodging, a rental car, and clothes for the wedding since they wanted those at the ceremony to match—Olivia got a new dress and so did her mom in the shade of lavender everyone else was wearing.

The family had gotten into town the day before. Cielito and Javier had shown them around town and taken them out to the ranch where Chucho and Connie finally got to meet in person—there was a lot of hugging—and that evening, they all, including his father, went out to dinner. Today, he’d spent more time with his friends before they all needed to get ready, then they followed him out to the ranch to distract Chucho while Javier covertly went to see, or, well, talk to his bride-to-be—the sleep mask was Connie’s idea, and she thought them sneakily meeting without anyone knowing was incredibly romantic.

"We do, bud,” he said. “You look so cool." He gently patted the child's arm.

Stevie was grinning. "I'm gonna walk from Mommy to Daddy and give him the rings?"

The hill they were on wasn’t too steep; Olivia was fine with walking up it from the bottom—she was excited to do it. For her younger brother, it was too much for him, so Connie was going to stand with Stevie a little before the land evened out at the top to signal when it was time for him to walk to his father.

"Yes," he nodded. "You'll walk while holding the pillow with the rings and hand it to your dad."

"It's a special job?"

"It's very special."

"Sissy's gonna throw flowers?"

"Yes, flower petals."

"It's a special job, too?"

"It is. They’re both important. Thank you for helping me, mi principito (my little prince).” He ruffled the child’s dirty blonde hair, making Stevie laugh.

Javier’s primos, Sebastián, and his tía Rebeca's daughter, Angelita, were taking care of the videography and photography, respectively. Seb had the video camera Javier bought, and Angelita had her own gear since she was a professional photographer—when you had fourteen cousins on just your father’s side, the odds were in your favor, one of them could either help with what you needed or knew somebody who could.

Photos were taken of Javier with the Murphys when they all first got there, and then his primos told everyone to pretend they weren’t there while they got candids and views of the scenery—his cousins arrived together in Sebastián’s SUV.

“Hey, Javi?” Seb said as he walked toward him.

"I gotta talk to him, buddy," Javier told Stevie. "I'll be back." He rose up with a groan, taking a few steps to reach his primo. "Yeah?" he answered.

When camcorders first came out, they were big and had to be rested on the operator’s shoulder, but the one Seb was using, he held in one of his hands with the side pulled open to see the little screen that previewed what was being recorded. The younger man hit a button on the video camera to pause what he’d been doing. “Do you want me to interview people?” Seb asked. “Ask how they like the wedding, if they have any advice, that kinda stuff.”

"Uh." He thought about it and Cielito would probably enjoy that. "Sure.”

"Perfecto (Perfect)." Seb nodded, hitting the button to record again.

Javier immediately regretted his decision when the camera was put in his face.

“It’s your big day, primo,” Seb said. “How are you feeling?”

“Um, excited and nervous.”

“The audience would like to hear how you met your bride.”

Javier smiled, heat rising on his cheeks. “At the grocery store, in the produce department—I guess it was obvious I was struggling to pick out a tomato, and she came to my rescue and showed me what to look for.”

“What was your first impression of her?”

He scratched at the back of his neck while looking away. “Uh, that she was sweet for helping me out, and beautiful. I could tell she had a good, kind heart and—” he lowered his voice so the children wouldn’t hear him. “—no fuckin’ clue who I was.” He chuckled. “I was hooked from that first conversation; an instant connection—there was something about her that told me she was going to be someone important to me, and I’d never felt that with anyone else.”

“What’d you do for your first date?”

His immediate thought was what happened after the bar, and his face felt hot. “We, uh, went out for drinks.”

“When did you know you loved her?”

He looked at the camera. “Honestly? Our third date. We were dancing in her kitchen to “¿Y cómo es él?”—”

“Mi mamá loves that song,” Seb said.

Javier huffed, smiling. “All my tías do. So, uh, we were dancing in her kitchen, and I realized she was the woman I was going to marry. I could see us having a future and was picturing what our Sunday mornings would look like—which, they’re exactly how I imagined—yeah, I knew I loved her on the third date and that we were going to get married one day.” He cleared his throat. “When my dad tells the story of the first time he saw my mother, he says his gut told him she was the one, and I always thought he was talking out of his—ass,” he whispered. “But it’s real and crazy to know deep down inside that you’ve found the person who completes you—feeling that confirmed she was it and that I truly did love her.”

“I think I know the feeling you’re talking about, and it’s great.”

“It is, and at your wedding, I’m gonna grill you on camera about it.”

“Hey, your wife is gonna eat this up, and you both want kids; think about your hijos (children) watching this one day and seeing how much you love their mom on your wedding day.”

The thought of sitting on the couch surrounded by his wife and kids, watching this wedding video, made him soften to the point he was putty—he wanted it to be a reality one day.

“What’s something you want to say to the bride before you get married?” Seb asked.

“I love you, and today is the best day of my entire fucking life—”

“—Eso es un dólar en la jarra, tío (That’s a dollar in the jar, uncle).” Olivia interrupted.

She meant the swear jar.

Javier sighed. “Lo siento, mi tesorito (I’m sorry, my little treasure). As I was saying, mi Cielito, I love you, and today is the best day of my entire freaking life. Happy isn’t enough to describe how I feel about us starting this new chapter of being husband and wife, and I’m looking forward to our future full of love, happiness, and hopefully, a lot of kids.” He smiled big. “I love you more than anything, and I will tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).” To end the sentence, he blew a kiss at the camera lens.

In order to get to where Javi was, it involved Chucho driving you off-road, and the trip was bumpy; you sat in the passenger seat, and Robyn was in the backseat, and because your father-in-law was probably as nervous as you were about speaking in front of people, he held your hand the entire way.

The previous day, when you brought the Murphys out to the ranch, you’d taken them to where you were going to be wed to do a quick rehearsal on how things would go; Olivia was beyond ecstatic to be a flower girl, and Stevie didn’t really understand what was going on, except that his tío Javi had an important job for him.

Chucho pulled up and parked at the base of the hill with your door opposite it so you couldn’t get a closer look at everyone atop it. The butterflies in your belly were flapping around so hard you thought they might get out, while your mind was racing with what could go wrong like you falling—that was a reason you wore flats, but with how much of your dress touched the ground, there was a chance of it tripping you up. Or what if Javi’s handsomeness made your brain stop working, and you couldn’t speak a single coherent word? Something that has happened before. God, your heart was pounding, and you thought you might be having a minor panic attack due to your vision starting to tunnel—a small silver flask was held up in front of your face, the cap already twisted off.

“Take a drink, Mija,” Chucho’s soothing voice said. “It’ll calm you down.”

The man was a lifesaver.

You grabbed it, taking a big swig, and your face pinched as the whiskey burned down your throat—from the taste and smoothness, you recognized it as Javi’s favorite, which was top shelf, a little spendy, and probably came from the bottle your fiancé gifted his dad to thank him for his help in getting you to give the green light to start your family.

The effect the alcohol had on you was almost immediate, feeling all of the tense muscles in your body relax at the same time. Your father-in-law took the flask from you and knocked it back with a drink of his own.

“Robyn?” he asked when he finished, holding it up for her to reach.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she replied, accepting it from him to take a gulp.

“I couldn’t see Antonia before our wedding,” he said, his head turned your way, “or talk to her. We were kept apart at the church, and I was so nervous that I was shaking like a leaf.” He chuckled. “Not about getting married, but having to stand in front of so many people. It had to be minutes before I needed to go out with the priest that mi amor’s maid of honor, her best friend, found me to give me an opened bottle of tequila and a note written by Antonia that read, ‘Mi amor, un trago para el coraje (My love, a drink for courage). Yo también necesitaba uno (I needed one, too).’ And she left a lipstick stamp of her lips at the bottom, where she kissed the paper. I won’t deny it. I kissed where her lips had been and took two shots.”

The story made you smile.

Chucho had put on a jacket that matched his light grey pants, and you watched as he pulled something from the inside pocket. It was a small folded piece of paper that’d been ripped from the notepad he kept by the answering machine at his house to write down messages. He passed it over to you, and you unfolded it, finding Javi’s scratchy handwriting. You read what he wrote:

Cielito, You said you were never drinking again, but I think this can be an exception since you’re probably freaking the fuck out about embarrassing yourself like I am. I’m worried I’ll see how beautiful you are and forget how to talk, or my brain will stop working. Have a drink to calm your nerves, and know it will all be okay because we’re doing this together. I love you, Your husband

The note was touching, especially since he knew how you’d be feeling.

“When did he write this?” you asked Chucho, whose eyes you met, the man smiling.

“When he met up with Connie and all of them at the house before they came out here. I’d given him the flask when he got there as a gift, but he told me to keep it for you and asked if he could write you a message. It reminded me so much of his mother, I couldn’t say no.”

“Thanks, Pop. I needed it.”

“I know you did, Mija.” He patted your leg.

When Javier saw his father's truck in the distance, his heart rate increased, and by the time they parked at the bottom of the hill, his heart was beating so fast that he was sure it was going to beat right out of his chest.

With where he was standing at the tree and how the land sloped, he didn’t have a visual. Steve was beside him with Nate still in the carrier, Connie and Stevie, who was holding the pillow with the rings, had walked to the top of the hill and were looking down it, probably watching Olivia, who booked it to join the people at the truck. Seb was near Steve's wife and kid with the camcorder and a battery-powered boombox on the ground he was supposed to hit play on when Robyn gave him the signal.

Sweat was forming on his brow and on his palms. He turned to Steve.

"Do I look okay?" he asked his friend. "How's my hair? And the bow tie?" He lifted his chin.

The other man was wearing an amused smile. "Hair and bow tie look as fine as they did when you asked five minutes ago." He put a hand on Javier's shoulder and squeezed. "Relax, man—you look great. She's gonna love what she sees."

"I fucking hope so."

The sun had started its descent on the horizon and was the backdrop for the place they’d be standing; the sky where it met land was lit up in burning orange, bleeding into golden yellow where the sun was positioned, and high above that, it turned into a calming mauve.

The soft, melodic sound of a piano began, and it was Javier's cue to face the others. Christine McVie’s voice floated through the air as she sang the opening to the Fleetwood Mac song, "Songbird:"

“For you there'll be no more crying For you the Sun will be shining And I feel that when I'm with you It's alright, I know it's right.”

Seconds later, Robyn came into view, smiling while holding a small bouquet of sunflowers with a lavender ribbon wrapped around the stems. She shot her boyfriend, Sebastián, a wink as she passed him. She took her spot across from Javier beside where Cielito would be.

When he discussed with his wife-to-be the music for today, she only knew for sure what she wanted them to dance their first dance to, and since Javier didn’t object to it, she left what she’d walk down the aisle to up to him. He knew she’d hate the traditional “Bridal Chorus,” a couple of Elvis Presley songs came to mind, “No Sé Tú” by Luis Miguel perfectly described how Javier felt when they met and was a good option, “At Last” by Etta James would be appropriate, too, and “I Could Fall in Love” by Selena was in the running, because, Selena, but then he remembered this song on Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours—his favorite album, and for good reason with it having some of the band’s best classics like “The Chain,” “Dreams,” and “Go Your Own Way;” it was also seeping with palpable heartbreak of a messy breakup, except for the track, “Songbird.” It was a major tonal shift from all the angst with its pretty piano and Christine McVie crooning her love. What sold him on it were the lines:

“To you, I’ll give the world To you, I’ll never be cold ‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you It’s alright, I know it’s right.”

He loved it when he heard it played live at the band's concert twenty-three years ago—he’d been seventeen and still in high school; he and his buddies snuck off to Fort Worth to see them, and “Songbird” was the last song of their set before the encore.

It was his three-year-old sobrino’s (nephew’s) turn to walk forward, his mom sending him to his dad with the rings—they all laughed at how he ran as fast as he could, making Javier smile.

"Here, Daddy," the child said to Steve, holding up the pillow.

His father accepted it.

"Great job, kiddo—high-five." His friend had to bend a little to gently hit his palm to Stevie’s tinier one, and the toddler turned to Javier expectantly, who, of course, bent his knees and high-fived him.

"You did good, buddy,” he said.

Steve told his son to stand with him, and Connie went to be next to Robyn as everyone watched Olivia walk up, tossing red rose petals from a small white basket, leaving a trail of them behind her. He hum-sang under his breath along with the song:

“And the songbirds are singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before.”

Finally, his bride came into view, her eyes locking onto his, and all the love he had for, all of his happiness, and thanks he had to the universe for making this day happen overflowed from him, falling as tears down his face and made his smile so big, he could feel the dimple in his cheek.

She was breathtaking and better than anything he could’ve imagined; this moment would be seared into his brain for all eternity, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy in his entire life—he almost told Steve to make sure he didn’t float away.

Her bouquet was made up of roses from his mother’s garden, and his heart felt like it would burst. Then the dress—Jesus Christ, the dress was perfect with how it molded to her body and showed off her tits from the neckline V-ing between them. His fingers were itching to see if the fabric was as buttery smooth as it looked, wanting to explore the expanse with his fingertips, mapping out every curve, line, and dip he’d already ventured countless times before but now on a new canvas; He desired to feel her softness under his palms and cradle her beautiful face to kiss those delectable lips he so loved; he wanted to hold her in his arms, her familiar shape he knew as intimately as his own, pressed against him, where she belonged.

All of it was getting him too excited, and his pants were feeling tighter, just as he suspected might happen.

Javier’s dream wedding night would have them partying with their friends and family well into the later hours and holding off on consummating their marriage until they retired to the room he rented at the nicest hotel in town he was surprising her with. He’d been determined to do just that up until he had to spend the previous evening by himself where he was alone with his thoughts and ruminated on how beautiful she was going to look, that she was going to be his wife, and one day soon, the mother of his children; since she wasn’t there to distract him by simply being in his vicinity, he worked himself up until he was rock hard and had to take a freezing shower.

He didn’t see there being any chance they’d make it to the hotel without them fucking at least once beforehand.

God, she was so fucking gorgeous.

He had to wipe at the wetness on his face, his smile continuing to shine.

Telling her his feelings in front of everyone wasn’t all he’d been nervous about; his brain was a real asshole, and there’d been a tiny thread of worry she wasn’t going to show—it was stupid, to have even fathomed something so absurd, yet looking at how shitty his luck was up until they met, he thought it wouldn’t have been too surprising that this time he’d be the one left at the altar.

But she was here! She came! And he was so overjoyed he couldn’t stop crying.

Wait.

Oh, fuck, she was close now—what was he supposed to do? It only just registered that she was walking with his dad, and they were almost to him, and he couldn’t remember what needed to happen when she got to him. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and he was starting to panic that he didn’t know what his next move was, worried he was going to fuck it all up; it was unbelievable that he’d been in gunfights, had to think on the fly to stay alive many times, and put on press conferences, yet at this moment when there wasn’t any danger or eager reporters, he was so overwhelmed by the woman he loved’s beauty, and that she was marrying him, his brain had ceased functioning entirely, and he was spiraling at embarrassing himself with so many onlookers.

Javi was having a panic attack.

The change in his eyes, how they went from bright and happy to panicked, clued you in, and any nervousness you felt flew out the window because your only concern was helping him.

Unhooking your arm from Chucho, you held out the hand, not holding flowers to Robyn.

“Flask me,” you said. Quickly, she pulled it from her pocket and passed it to you, taking your bouquet in return. You stepped in front of your betrothed as you unscrewed the cap on the container of booze. “Hey, baby,” you said in a soothing tone. “You’re okay.” You grabbed his hand and put the flask in it, pushing it toward his face. “Have a drink to calm your nerves. Everything is gonna be okay, honey. Remember, we’re doing this together—it’s just us.”

The music had stopped playing.

He shook his head once like he was trying to shake the bad stuff out, and he took a drink, or several, with how his Adam’s apple kept bobbing.

“Looks like I’ll be driving us after this.” The adults surrounding you chuckled, and you smiled.

His hand lowered, and his vision focused on you, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No reason to be sorry—I freaked out in the car.” You took the flask from him, screwed on the cap, and handed it back to Robyn without looking. “Feeling better?” you asked, smoothing your fingers over his bangs while his eyes were on yours.

“Much,” he answered with a small smile, his palms moving to rest on your hips.

“Wanna get married?”

“More than anything.”

“Good—liquid courage helps.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek, then put your lips near his ear for only him to hear, “Say the word, and we’ll pack up, go party with everyone, and hit the courthouse tomorrow.”

He spoke softly in your ear, “Thank you, Cielito, but I promise I’m okay.” He kissed your cheek. “I told you I’d see how beautiful you are and forget how to function.”

You giggled, pulling back to look at him, taking in the black tuxedo jacket and bow tie over his crisp white shirt and the lavender pocket square and the pinned violet rose for a pop of color—his hair still looked good, and you rubbed away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.

When he saw you in your wedding dress, the expression on his face was something you’d never forget—it was a look of pure, uninhibited joy, and you were sure you saw hearts in his eyes with how they beamed his immense love and devotion. The way that it had him crying happy tears made you feel emotional that someone loved you with such magnitude. It’s why your immediate thought when you saw him panicking wasn’t that he wanted to back out, knowing from his note that he was freaking the fuck out about embarrassing himself, and the nerves got him.

“Let’s get married.” His head turned to kiss one of your palms.

“Let’s get married.”

Turning to your almost-father-in-law, you gave him a quick hug, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to give Javi a side hug, careful of the stuff held in one of his hands and whispering something in his son’s ear, you didn’t catch.

The elder Peña went to stand at his place in front of the tree, holding his worn, soft leather bible, with a picture of Javi’s mother stuck to the cover and a note card sticking out from between the pages to mark a spot.

Javier took your hand, and you both walked the few steps to your spots before his father; he grasped your other palm in his once you faced one another, Chucho on your left and Javi’s right.

Your husband-to-be mouthed, ‘I love you,’ and you silently replied with the movement of your lips, ‘I love you, too.’

Chucho cleared his throat, and your attention went to him.

“Welcome, loved ones,” he started, “we are gathered here today in the sight of God and each other to bear witness to the perfect union of Javier, and—” He said your name. “What a joyous day we get to share with them as they embark on this new journey of a life together in matrimony that will, no doubt, be long, healthy, and filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Mijo, Mija,” he addressed you both, “I called this union between you perfect, and I meant it. Besides my marriage to my dear Antonia, que en paz descanse (may she rest in peace), I cannot think of two other people more suited to share a life together. It’s clear the good you bring out in one another and how happy you make each other.” His eyes landed on you. “And you truly make my son happy. This might come as a shock,” he said to everyone in attendance, “but Javier is a smiley guy when he’s happy, and I haven’t seen him smile so much in a long, long time.

“He also has never been able to hide his feelings because that handsome face of his tells his secrets—it’s his—” He glanced at you. “—I’m stealing this from you, Mija—it’s his puppy dog eyes, he got from his mother, and she suffered the same problem.” His gaze stayed on you. “I know Javier loves you more than there’s blue in all the sky because he looks at you the same way mi amor looked at me, and as we know, their eyes don’t lie.”

He was right, and it made you choke up that he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such honesty and the weight of so much love.

Chucho looked at his son. “Your media naranja (soulmate) isn’t much better.” He nodded toward you. “Her eyes betray her, too, even when she does her damndest to hide behind a mask. When she looks at you, though, the truth of her love is revealed—her thoughts are loud when she stares at you, and sometimes I think I can hear them; the declaration of ‘I love you,’ she’s repeating over and over again. She looks at you like you’re her whole world, and I know it’s true from those looks, how she treats and cares for you, the things she does for you, even when you don’t ask, and the effort she puts into cultivating your relationship.”

He spoke to you both again. “Marriage can be wonderful with the right person, but it isn’t always easy; I want to take a moment and give you some advice that kept my marriage happy.

“Be best friends—talk about everything, even when you don’t want to or it’s a hard subject. Communicate your needs and wants constantly, and don’t stop talking to each other. Be best friends who share everything, and I mean everything, because your relationship needs to be built upon trust, and there’s nothing better than spending your life with your best friend.

“Keep having fun—joke around, cook together, dance in the kitchen, don’t stop having fun. And keep dating each other. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean that the dating stops. Go out, stay in, just have romantic time you dedicate to one another; that way, the spark stays alive. I know it’ll be harder to do when you have kids; you’ll be exhausted and won’t have much energy. Dating still needs to be a priority, and it doesn’t have to be anything exciting; it can be as simple as putting the kids to bed, staying up, watching a movie together, or baking cookies.”

“—or folding laundry together,” Steve interjected.

Javi chuckled, and you were confused. He leaned toward you to whisper in your ear, “It’s their code word for sex.”

“Oh, that’s smart,” you said as he straightened.

A furrow was between Chucho’s eyebrows. “I guess folding laundry can be romantic…” the older man said. “Now, where was I?” He opened his bible and pulled out the notecard, his eyes scanning over. “Oh, yes—anyone can fall in love; it’s nurturing that love, sharing your life with the other, facing challenges together, and growing as one that makes it real love, and what you have is real. The love you share and I had with my wife is beautiful, but it’s also fierce, it’s powerful, and all consuming; it’s not something anyone can get between and will live on even when you no longer walk the earth. I know you didn’t want a religious ceremony, but there’s a scripture I’d like to share that perfectly describes what I mean. May I?” he asked, his bible already open to the page.

Javier and you figured he’d slip in a verse or two simply because he was a devout Christian man. It was nice of him to ask permission first, though. You turned your head to meet your almost-husband’s eyes and shrugged that you were fine with it. He smiled, his attention going back to his father.

“Go ahead,” Javi said.

Chucho had a toothy grin. “Wonderful—it’s in Songs of Solomon 8 and reads: Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.”

He shut the bible with one hand, his notes resting atop it.

“I wish more people got to experience that kind of love—it’d do the world a whole lot of good. Javier—” He looked at his son, then over to you, saying your name. “I know with how you feel for each other, it’s natural to think marriage is the next step in your relationship. I want you to be sure you know what you’re getting into.” His eyes were moving between you both. “This is a lifelong commitment that will have its ups and downs, highs and lows, and you’ll need to challenge yourselves to love the other more completely each and every day. Are you ready to take this step?”

Without missing a beat, Javi and you said simultaneously, ‘Yes,’ your hands still in his.

Chucho smiled. “Wonderful. Javier—” His eyes went to his son. “—do you take—” He said your name. “—to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you honor her, cherish her, love, trust, and commit to her and her alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Javi said.

His father turned his attention to you and addressed you by name. “—do you take Javier to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor him, cherish him, love, trust, and commit to him and him alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” you answered.

“It’s time for you to share the vows you’ve written for one another before you exchange rings. Who’d like to go first?”

“Me!” you said immediately, and everyone laughed. “I need to get them out of the way before Javi makes me a blubbering mess. Robyn, vows me.” Turning her way, you put out your hand, and she juggled the two bouquets she held to pull a folded piece of paper from her pocket to hand to you. “Have I told you your dress is amazing?” you asked her.

“Thank you—I look good and have pockets. What could be better?”

“Dresses with pockets are a game-changer.” You faced Javi, and heat bloomed up your neck and on your face at remembering you had to say how you felt in front of people.

“Hey,” Javi said to get your attention, and your gazes locked. “It’s just me,” he whispered. “Talk to me—no one else is here.”

“Right.” You smiled, then focused on the lined notebook paper you unfolded that had your writing on it. “Javier Jesús Peña López,” you began, “the first of his name, King of my heart, Lord of our tiny apartment, and Protector of me—”

“Just Javi’s fine,” he said.

You giggled. “Javi, not a day goes by that I am unaware of how lucky I am to have found you. When I think about how much time you spent away from this town—that I both love and hate—all the people you’ve met, the life you’ve lived, and the things you’ve gone through, it’s a miracle our paths crossed, and possibly Divine Intervention or the universe doing me a solid, that after everything that’s happened to you, you’ve ended up here, with me.

“It’s crazy the number of obstacles we’ve had to face together and how many people are obsessed with making your life difficult—this isn’t me complaining. I’m weirdly thankful for it; it’s kept us on our toes and tested our bond. It’s improved our communication and has built a strong foundation for our relationship.

“Something I’m also thankful for is the trust we share. I can count on you. I know you’re true to your word, and I have no reason to worry about you ever being deceitful.

“What’s also reassuring is your star signs back up the faith I have in you—as a Sagittarius, you value honesty, and when you find someone you think is really worth it, you commit, and you commit hard. With Capricorn and Scorpio in your top three, you’re super loyal, a little possessive, and definitely a relationship guy. To sum all of that up, you’re pretty much perfect and an amazing partner.

“You’re a good man, the best I’ve known. My life is better with you in it. Thank you for loving me.” Tears started to distort your vision, the emotion coming through in your voice. “Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for your unwavering support and for being my rock. Thank you for being my protector and making me feel so safe with you. Thank you for being my best friend and the love of my life.”

You had to take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Here are my promises to you,” you said, “I promise to love you until the end of time, and if I happen to go first, haunt you until we can be together again.” He chuckled. “I promise to be your protector and to always have your back; I will go to battle for you in a heartbeat, and hopefully, you know that. I promise to be honest, and it should go without saying because, as we’ve established, you’re perfect, but I promise to be faithful. I promise to keep making you laugh and smile. I promise to put you first and to always be your best friend—sorry, Steve.”

“You can have him,” Steve replied, and everyone laughed.

You continued speaking, “I promise to make your mother’s tamales a couple times a year—I promise to make you one of her other recipes on the days you miss her particularly bad. I promise to keep reminding you that you’re sexier and better than Harrison Ford.” That one made him and the others crack up. “I promise to rap “Whatta Man” for you every time it comes on, so you don’t forget whatta man you are. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen every chance we get. I promise to try, keyword here, try, not to recite the movies word for word when we watch Star Wars or Addams Family Values. I promise to always make sure we don’t run out of limes or your hot sauce or side-eye you when you put either on the perfectly seasoned food I made. I promise to always leave you the last of the ice cream because you’re a dirty liar when you say you don’t want it. I promise to tell you I love you every day until the day I die. I promise that you and your love will always be enough, and I’ll always pick you; I’ll always choose you over anyone else.

“Today, the separate books of our lives have come to an end, and we’re starting the next one together—I can’t wait to see what each new chapter will bring. What I know for sure—” You glanced over at Chucho. “—I’m stealing this from you, Pop—” Your eyes went to Javi’s, and his were reddened, his face glistening from crying and flushed from the alcohol. “—What I know for sure,” you said, “is this new adventure we’re beginning, will be filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Javi, you are my person. You’re the love of my life, my one true love, mi media naranja, the person I want to go to sleep with every night and wake up with every morning. You’re my best friend and my forever.

“I love you, Javier Jesús Peña López and I am so happy I get to spend eternity with you.”

His smile was big enough his dimple was showing and you hated that you couldn’t kiss him.

Chucho sniffled, putting his bible under his arm to get his handkerchief from his pocket, lifting his glasses to wipe away his tears.

“That was beautiful, Mija. When you’re ready, Javi, go ahead.”

All she said had Javier feeling so unbelievably happy that he couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears streaming down his cheeks, and he thought his smile might be permanently stuck on his face—he was sure the alcohol wasn’t helping him to keep his composure.

His dad’s speech had gotten him, too, especially about how Chucho could see her feelings for him and said their love was real. He always wondered if the intensity of what he felt for her was normal, and hearing that his parents were the same way reassured him that they just had a strong connection. His father’s advice was helpful, too, and he planned on following it.

She looked incredible and smelled amazing; her perfume wasn’t one she’d worn before, but he knew the scent because he got it for her as a Christmas present—it was intoxicating, and he was dying to shove his face into her neck to drown himself in it. With the emotions she was eliciting from him, her beauty, the perfume, and the whiskey he drank, it was a heady combination that had him feeling buzzed, and he was so caught up in all of it that it had completely slipped his mind that he had to speak.

“Shit,” he said under his breath and barely pulled open the left side of his jacket to get into the inside pocket. First, he grabbed his reading glasses, which he put on, then the folded piece of yellow, lined paper he’d taken from a legal pad at work.

“I am literally the luckiest woman in the world,” Cielito said, and his eyes lifted to her. She was smiling, her eyelashes wet, and she looked incredibly delighted.

“The glasses?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered. “You’re spoiling me. I get glasses Javi in a tuxedo, and he’s gonna say pretty, romantic things about how much he loves me—talk about the best day ever.”

“With how you look?” he said. “It’s my best day ever, too.”

She playfully smacked his arm. “Stop it, don’t make me want to suck—”

Robyn started coughing loudly, and his wife-to-be’s eyes widened.

“—hug you more,” she tried to save and cringed. “Hugs, not drugs, am I right?” She chuckled nervously.

He snorted, shaking his head. “You ready?” he asked.

“Wait.” Her upper body twisted so she could look behind her. “Tissue me,” she said to Robyn, and her friend got a clean one out of her pocket and exchanged it for Cielito’s folded paper. She faced him again. “Okay, I’m ready. Remember to focus on me. No one else is here.”

“That’ll be easy.” He cleared his throat, his eyes moving to what he’d written. It wasn’t something he said often, but he let her first name slide off his tongue, thinking how perfect it was going to sound paired with his last. “—mi Cielito, mi amor, mi alma, mi media naranja, y ahora, mi esposa (My Cielito, my love, my soul, my soulmate, and now, my wife), my life didn’t begin until the moment I met you; what I mean by that, is I was alive, yes, I was breathing, I had a pulse, but I didn’t start living until we met. You made me want to live and be happy—for so long, I thought I would die miserable and alone, and you showed me that I deserved happiness and to be loved.” His eyes were burning, and the following sentence made him choke up. “You showed me I deserved a family of my own.” Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I thank the universe, the powers that be. I thank whoever let you find me because I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

He went off script to look into her beautiful, teary eyes. “Pop was right; I love you more than there’s blue in the sky, I love you more than there’s water in all the depths of the oceans, I love you more than there are stars in the entire galaxy—I love you more than anything, and I mean anything.”

He focused on what he’d written again. “I once told you I didn’t believe in true love, and I didn’t—that was just made-up stuff in the cartoon movies I watched with Olivia. Or at least I thought it was before you, and then, having you in my life, I discovered it was real. With you, ‘media naranja (soulmate)’ isn’t just a term of endearment; it’s an acknowledgment that you’re my other half and that we’re two parts meant to be together. Love with you transcends what most people have; we feel it deeper than our bones, all the way down into our souls, where we’re connected.

“Our love is true love.”

Wetness was dripping from his eyes to splatter onto the paper.

“Those fairytale movies got something right, and it’s that this kind of love would make a person fight dragons and sea witches for their true love. As my father said, it’s fierce, powerful, and all-consuming. It doesn’t end when our hearts stop beating; it continues on—it’s infinite—what we feel for one another is more than a single life can handle, and I’ll follow you when this one’s over; we’ll find each other again, and live another life together because there is no me without you or you without me.

“From the first day we met, I knew you were special. We spent hours talking in that bar, and I’ve never felt such peace or so comfortable with someone; with you, I don’t have to keep my guard up. I can be vulnerable, speak what’s on my mind, and openly show my affection. With you, I’m safe, and from the first night, you were my Cielito, my little heaven—there’s no better name for you, not with how happy you make me, how you make me feel, and how much better my life is with you.

“You’re my little heaven, mi Cielito, my everything. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known—thank you.” His voice faltered, and he had to wipe at his eyes as best he could beneath his glasses. “Those two words aren’t enough to express my gratitude, and I will spend every waking moment showing you how thankful I am for you and all you’ve done.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, “it’s not enough, but thank you.”

He sounded gravelly, the words thick. “In you, I’ve found love, a wife, a partner for life, a best friend, an incredible lover, a home, a teacher to show me how to live; someone who makes me happy, makes me laugh, someone to have a family with, who supports me, inspires me, and makes me want to be a better man.

“Thank you for being all of this and more. Thank you for marrying me today and making me the happiest man in the entire goddamn universe.

“Fuck,” he breathed, taking off his readers to hold with the paper while his other hand scrubbed away the tears. “I really hoped I wouldn’t cry this much—it’s embarrassing.”

“I love it,” she reassured. “It just shows you really mean what you’re saying.”

He put the lenses back on and looked at her, seeing her eyes were red from crying, the tissue in her hand stained with mascara—she’d managed to keep from ruining the rest of her makeup.

“I do mean it all,” he said.

She was smiling. “I know.”

Javier composed himself by taking a deep breath and clearing his throat. Finally, he was ready to speak again. “It was hard figuring out my vows because I wanted to promise you everything your heart could possibly desire, but Pop said that was boring.” He frowned.

“And that he needed to do better,” Chucho added.

Javier sighed.

“I would’ve been fine with that vow,” Cielito said.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Pop was right. You deserve the best.” He took another deep breath and slowly let it out, looking at what he’d written and patting himself on the back for making notes—he was definitely too emotional and tipsy to have remembered everything he wanted to say. “Cielito,” he started, “you have all my love and devotion, and I give you myself; my mind, body, and soul belong to you. I vow to never stop loving you, even when this earth is no more and the stars stop shining. I vow to make you feel loved and cherished until the end of my days. I vow to always be your best friend, your confidant, your shoulder to cry on, y un chismoso contigo (and a gossiper with you)—me encanta chismear contigo (I love to gossip with you).”

She giggled, and he smiled.

“I vow to be your equal in everything and give more than I take. I vow to always be there for you no matter what, in sickness and health, when life is easy and hard, I’ll stand by you and be your anchor.” The next one made his smile get bigger. “I vow to treat you like una reina (a queen) and be the best husband you could ask for so when you brag to your girlfriends, they can see their worth and deserve to be treated like queens, too. I vow to be the best father, one you can rely on, and doesn’t call watching my own children babysitting; I’ll pull my weight, I’ll never let you get overwhelmed, and I’ll be an active parent who loves our kids so fu-freaking much.”

“I vow to keep you safe and always make you feel safe; I’ll protect you and our children with my life. I vow to make sure all of your needs are met.” He smirked, glancing at her. “I vow to ‘fold laundry’ with you whenever you ask.” He winked, and she laughed.

“Why are adults so obsessed with laundry?” He heard Olivia ask.

“I’m wonderin’ the same thing, kiddo,” Robyn said. “I’m not obsessed with it.”

“Oh, believe me, you are,” Connie replied.

“I know the stars,” Javier said, “that astrology stuff you love, told you this already, but I want you to hear it from me, too: I vow to be loyal to you and faithful, always—to me, you are the only woman I see, or will ever want; I vow to put you and our family before all else.”

He looked at her with a smile. “I have some more things I’m gonna promise after hearing yours. I vow to always give you my pickles.” Her grin was big and happy as she giggled. “I vow to always let you sing Freddie Mercury’s parts in Bohemian Rhapsody while I do the guitar solo, and I’ll always leave you the last piece of cheesecake because I love you and value my life.” That made her giggle harder. “I vow to try, the keyword here is try, to not, as you put it, ‘creepily watch you while you sleep,’ even though you’re guilty of the same thing.” Her giggles transformed into laughter. “I vow to always dance with you when we’re cleaning the house and in the kitchen while we cook together. I vow to pretend—I mean, agree that you’re the best driver in Laredo and always know your way around, even when you don’t.”

There was a reason he drove them the majority of the time.

“Rude!” she gasped. “I’m an amazing driver!”

“I agree, mi amor, you’re the best in Laredo.” He winked again, folded his paper, and put it back in his inner pocket. He spoke as he took off his reading glasses. “There’s one more thing I vow,” he said, putting the lenses away. His hands were free and he grabbed hers, ignoring the tissue clenched in one of her palms, and stared adoringly into her eyes. “I vow that years from now—decades—after our kids are grown, and we’ve retired, maybe we’ll be living in Florida like other retirees, or we’ll still be here where our family lives and we made our best memories; I vow that when we’re old and grey and can’t hear or see shit without hearing aids or glasses, that we’ll look back on our life together, and we’ll have no regrets.

“Zero,” he said.

“We did everything we wanted and lived the life we shared to the fullest, filled with love, happiness, and laughter.”

Her shoulders started to shake, and she had to let go of his hand to blot at her eyes.

“Javier!” she cried, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. “Why would you end with something so sweet?”

“Para que sepas cómo nuestro futuro será (So you know what our future together will be like). Quería que vieras que cuando me des ese anillo, te daré mi futuro y lo que venga después de eso (I wanted you to see that when you give me that ring, I’ll give you my future and whatever comes after that).”

She leaned back to look at him, and he was impressed that only her mascara had gotten messed up. She poked him in the chest and said, “That ring is going on your finger right this second.” Javier chuckled as her head turned to his dad. “Can we do the rings now, please?”

Chucho laughed. “Yes, Mija, you can do the rings. Who has them?” he asked aloud.

“Me!” Steve answered and moved to stand next to the older man, being careful not to bump Nate, who’d fallen asleep in the backpack carrier. At some point, the three-year-old Stevie had gone over to his mom and was now sitting in the grass next to her, eating Goldfish crackers out of a plastic baggy from the diaper bag near them. Steve untied the ribbon keeping the gold bands secured, then picked them both up, the pillow getting shoved under his arm. “Here, Jav.” Javier turned a little, holding out his palm to his friend, and her ring was set in it. He faced his bride again.

“At this time, they will exchange rings,” Chucho said, holding his bible in front of him with the notecard atop it. “Javier, go ahead and place it on her finger.” She looked adorably giddy, presenting her left hand to him, and he held it in his palm as he slid the band onto the finger with her engagement ring, pressing it against the other. “Now, repeat after me,” his dad said, reading his notes, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

Javier’s eyes fastened onto hers, and he repeated what his father said: “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.” When he finished speaking, he lifted her hand to press his lips to the new addition on her finger with a kiss, keeping his gaze on her watery one.

“I love you,” she told him.

His thumb rubbed over the gold as he lowered her arm. “I love you, too.”

“Mija,” Chucho said, “it’s your turn.”

Javier held his hand out for her to take, and when she did, goosebumps rose on his skin, practically vibrating from anticipation. Her palm was smaller and softer than his, and he watched as Steve passed her the remaining ring. A big smile formed on his face at her not waiting for his father’s instruction, putting the band onto his finger immediately—it got stuck on his knuckle, and she had to wiggle it a little to finally slide it home.

“Repeat after me,” Chucho said, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

She held his larger palm in both of her smaller ones, gazing into his eyes and smiling as she said, “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

His breath hitched as he watched her raise his hand to kiss the band, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

His father started speaking to them, “Now that you’ve proclaimed your love for one another and exchanged rings as a seal of the promises you made today in front of these witnesses and myself, by the power vested in me by the great State of Texas, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife! Javier, you may now kiss your bride!”

There was clapping and hollering, someone patted his back, and Javier didn’t waste any time—he was told he could finally kiss this stunning woman in front of him, who he loved more than anything; she completed him and made him happy like no one else—ella es su vida (she is his life), su amor (his love), su media naranja (his soulmate), finalmente su esposa (finally his wife), his Cielito.

The fingers of one of his hands traced over the familiar line of her jaw, the other pulling her tight to his chest, finding the fabric of her dress was as buttery soft as he suspected. The sun had barely sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky fiery in its wake, and as it descended, so did Javier’s mouth onto hers, crushing his lips to hers. At the first touch, it felt like electricity was thrumming just below his skin, his heart racing, the press of her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck making tingles wash down his spine.

It was almost like he was kissing her for the first time, and it started out gentle, wanting to savor this moment with his wife—his wife—they were married. He was a husband and wearing a ring, the metal currently pressed to the warm skin of her cheek. His excitement got the better of him, and he deepened the kiss, licking in her mouth, her soft moan causing arousal to erupt in his belly, feeling blood begin to rush to his groin. She seemed to be just as ravenous as him, their tongues tangling and her hands gripping handfuls of his hair.

Javier didn’t think he could be happier than he was at this moment.

This was the best day of his entire fucking life.

He was a married man with an amazing wife and their lives were intertwined now, becoming one they both shared. What wound him up even more was her taking his last name—not in a possessive way, but because it was another thing they’d share, and Javier wanted to share everything with her. Name, life, home, things, children, all of it, he wanted to have and with her by his side.

His dad’s voice showed amusement when he heard him speak. “We’ll just let them get that out of their system.” People laughed. “It’s my great pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Peña!”

Mr. and Mrs. Peña.

Nothing sounded more perfect.

They hadn’t stopped kissing, too caught up in each other.

“Why are they trying to eat each other’s faces?” Olivia asked, clearly confused.

Steve shouted, “Cover her eyes, Connie!”

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

a/n: The song she walked down the aisle to was "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac. The bible verse mentioned is Song of Solomon 8:6-7 (RSVCE).

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #Javier Peña/you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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boobamilktease · 5 months

Text

“Studying”

Aemond Targaryen Modern AU! x Reader

Warnings- Smut, filthy, oral, p in v sex, creampie, leg shaking, somebody lock me behind bars for this

——————————————————————————

Aemond Targaryen was a man not easily swayed, especially not when he knew it was wrong. But, his eyes couldn’t help but greedily look at your exposed legs. He had invited you over for you weekly study sessions, but if anything he wasn’t focused on the calculus work in front of him. He was focused on the way your lips wrapped around the eraser part of your pencil, nibbling on it with concentration. God he imagined those sweet lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him so sweetly.

Gods, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, he knew. You were his best friend, his sunshine in his darkness. Hell you met his dysfunctional family during the holidays, and they loved you. His mother Alicent was happy that her son had a good friend to rely on during college. If only she knew the way his cock hardens whenever he sees your tongue peak ever so slightly out between your lips.

You groan, feeling your brain is too numb to work on the calculus equation, effectively snapping him out of his embarrassing daydream. Fuck….he knew he was doomed if she saw his boner in his grey sweats. He saw you sigh and take off your sweater, leaving you in a small tee, and it took everything in him to not roll his eyes and fuck his hand like he’s a teen boy who just saw a pair of tits for the first time.

Aemond can feel a heat rise, sweat forming on the back of his neck, and he swallows hard. He bites his lip subtly, and stares at you with eyes clouded with lust. You stand up, stretching, causing your shirt to ride up exposing your stomach. His eyes burn the sight into his memory, happily. You yawn and walk over to the kitchen part of his dorm and grab a glass of water. Aemond asks for one too, his voice hoarse.

He watches you, eyeing you like a predator. His cock is so hard, it almost hurts. He watches as you set the glasses of water down and take a large gulp of water. He watches the way your throat moves and wants nothing more than to shove his cock in your mouth and facefuck you, but he refrains, biting down on his lip.

“I just don’t understand this problem Aemy. It’s too hard.” You say and Aemond nods, not listening to what you’re saying at all, only watching your lips. “I mean I thought since I was taking a degree in fucking education I wouldn’t have to do math!” You rant and Aemond just stares at you with lust in his dark eyes. “I’m so stressed and finals are coming up and this is supposed to be on the final and ugh this is the worst!” You say, groaning.

Aemond finally speaks up. “I know how you can de-stress.” You look at him confused, your head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “What do you mean Aemy?” You ask, to which he retorts. “I know of a way that you and I both can de-stress….would you be interested princess?” You can’t deny the way his pet name for you makes your thighs clench together slightly.

Aemond pushes his chair out from the table, giving you a good look at his clothes bulge. It massive…just how long has he been like that? You wonder. You bite your lip slightly and stare at his bulge, feeling yourself become aroused at the sight. A small blush coats the tops of your cheeks, causing Aemond to chuckle darkly.

“It’s your choice princess. We can have a good time or we can forget this ever happened and go back to studying.” Aemond says, placing a hand on his inner thigh, close to his bulge. Your thighs rub together as you think over the choices, before settling on one. Aemond was hot, you knew it and he knew it. You can’t remember the last time a guy looked at you with a fraction of affection and love.

You swallow slowly and nod, standing up from your chair and making your way to him. Aemond leans back in his chair and feels himself get harder, if he even could at that point. Once you’re in his vicinity, he grabs your u waist and places you on his lap, your clothed pussy right above his throbbing cock. He lets out a soft groan feeling your warm body on his.

Aemond’s hand caresses your cheek before gently grabbing your chin and placing a hot kiss on your lips. His lips move against yours feverishly, wanting to devour you whole. His hands roam, landing on the curve of your ass, fondling gently. You kiss him passionately, feeling his tongue meet yours in a fiery kiss. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling his pecs before making their way to his hair, gently tangling them in his silver locks.

He leaves hot open mouthed kisses trailing from your lips down your neck. Aemond leaves hickeys on your neck, claiming you as his. He pulls away to remove his shirt, revealing his toned body. He is built like a Greek god. His abs look so pretty in the soft dorm lighting. He goes back to kissing your neck, whispering against your skin, “fuck..you’re so fucking pretty Princess… do you feel how hard I am for you?”

You let out a soft moan as he grinds his cock against your pussy. You feel wet in your underwear, only making you more horny. His hands roam down your body and they go up your shirt, groping your tits gently. He groans and kisses your neck, sucking a pretty hickey on your neck. Aemond tugs at your shirt and says “fuck baby I need this off..”

You take off your shirt and throw it to the side somewhere in his dorm. He groans and his eyes roll in the back of his head, seeing your gorgeous tits. You unclasp your bra and fling it to where you put your shirt. When Aemond sees your bare tits he almost cums.

You were so pretty, and he wanted you to know it. He gently reaches up fondles your tits, rolling the buds around, making them perk up. You moan feeling his warm, wet mouth on your pebbled nipple, sucking. He kisses and suck’s your tit, while fondling the other, and then he switches to the other tit.

He moans, looking at your swollen and perk tits. His cock is screaming to be let out and he gently pushes you to your knees, kneeling in front of him. His pushes his pants and boxers down to his ankles, revealing his throbbing dick. He’s leaking precum, the tip red and super horny.

His cock was so pretty, long and with the right amount of girth to make you see stars. He was neatly shaven, and his balls were heavy. He gives himself a few pumps before gently grabbing your chin and bringing you closer to his throbbing dick. You swallow, salivating at the sight. You place a hand on his inner thigh and press a kiss on the top of his cock head. He flexes his stomach slightly, needy for your mouth.

You spit on his tip, watching the saliva run down his hard dick. You pump him with the new lubricant and watch as his head falls back and his mouth opens in a silent moan. You then put his tip in your mouth, kitty licking his tip. He groans and says “baby quit fucking teasing me” and you comply.

You slide his dick in your mouth, feeling his tip touch the back of your throat. You want to gag, but seeing him fall apart all from your mouth is enough for you to bare it. You hollow your cheeks and suck his pretty cock, reveling in his pretty moans and whimpers. His eyes are shut in pleasure and he moans your name. “Fuck baby…you feel so fucking good..keep sucking me like that…fuck!”

You start to play with his balls, massaging them in your hand. His moans increase and for a moment he forgets he’s in his college dorm. He places a hand on the back of your head, forcing you to deepthroat his cock. “Fuck princess…I’m gonna cum soon if you don’t stop!”

He moans, and he flexes his stomach, resisting the urge not to thrust his cock in and out of your mouth. With an audible pop, you remove your mouth from his cock and he groans at the loss. He looks at you with hooded eyes, completely covered with lust. He watches you remove your shorts and underwear, noticing a wet spot in them.

He grins looking at how horny you are. “Fuck princess…you’re soaking.” He says rubbing two thick fingers over your slick pussy. He gathers the slick and rubs it over his cock. You climb on his lap and he searches his drawers in order to find a condom. “I’m on the pill, and healthy.” You say and looks at you with a soft smile.

“You’re too good for me baby..c’mere.” He says and places a sweet kiss on your lips. You two kiss for a moment, grinding against each other. You moan as his cock head catches your clit a few times. “I should stretch you but you’re so fucking horny I don’t think you need it.” He says, slowly lining his cock to your entrance.

With a nod, he thrusts in gently, watching your face carefully for any sign of discomfort. He bottoms out, and rolls his eyes, wanting to thrust his cock in your pussy feverishly. He bites his tongue and waits for you to say that he can start. You say, feeling so full from his cock. “You can move Aemy…”

Aemond begins thrusting slowly and then picking pace hearing your moans. He fucks you like an animal in heat, you’re seeing stars from how good he’s fucking you. His balls are slapping against you with every thrust he makes, you moan and Aemond slaps your tits gently, loving the way they bounce when he fucks you full with his cock.

He’s so close to cuming but he won’t stop. He wants you to cum around his cock. He wants to feel your pussy tighten against him and cream all over his dick. He wants to fuck you full of his seed and watch you be pregnant with his kids. Fuck he’s so close, as he rubs your pearl just right, bringing you closer to the edge. “Aemy! Fuck I’m so close!!” You whimper and Aemond flips the position to where your face is in the pillow and your ass is in the air.

He fucks you from behind with such force, the headboard slams against the wall, but neither of you care. He make you feel so good, he makes you feel like your in heaven, even if your doing the unholiest of things. You feel so close to cuming, and he knows it by the way your pussy is clenching around his dick. He slaps your ass as he thrusts from behind, loving the way your ass jiggles as he thrusts.

Aemond groans and as you clench around him tight, screaming as you cum. Tears are rolling down your cheeks as he fucks you through your orgasm, trying to catch his. He follows soon after thrusting deep into your cervix and cumming. His body shakes and his mouth falls open in a silent scream. He pulls out and he has to resist the urge to get hard watching his seed leak from your swollen pussy. He smiles and checks up on you, before grabbing a warm washcloth we and cleaning you up. He then puts on a pair of clean boxers and sweats, just as the dorm door is knocked on. He makes sure you’re covered, and opens the door, leaning against the door frame.

“Cregan, how can I help you?” Aemond says looking at Cregan, blocking his view of you. Cregan smiles and invites Aemond to a frat party, to which Aemond declines and says that you’re over. “Oh, what are you two doing?” Cregan asks and Aemond says with a sly smirk. “Studying..”

#hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #fanfic #prince aemond #smut #filthy #lock me up

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turtletaubwrites · 21 days

Text

Misty Eyes ~ Part 5

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 3975

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Feeling good seemed out of reach, but you'd never felt safer than you do with Law. Safe enough to ask for what you want.

Author's Note: Alright friends, patience is required, but rewarded 🥰

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added, Fluff, Sexual Dysfunction, Safe words, Choking, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

“What do you mea–”

“Nuh uh,” Law scolded, sticking his thumb in your mouth like a hook to pull you closer by your bottom teeth. “You know I could always tell when you were lying. I know you faked it.”

You pulled his hand away from your face, frowning at his shit-eating grin.

“I don’t know wha–”

“You little liar,” he accused, sitting up. His movement forced you to slide from straddling his waist to sitting in his lap, the feel of his still firm cock beneath you making you gasp.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, even as you scowled at him. His satisfied chuckle made you scrunch your nose, heat burning your face.

“How could you tell,” you gave in, earning a quick kiss before he flipped you, laughing at you while he laid you on your back beneath him.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Your mouth fell open in outrage, but you couldn’t attack him while he held your fists, kissing your knuckles.

“I’m an incredible liar,” you squirmed, his weight pinning you down.

“See what I mean,” he taunted, your futile thrashing making you breathless. “That wasn’t believable at all.”

A frustrated huff left your lips as you struggled to punch that smirk off of his face, but he stopped talking while he kissed his way along your neck and collarbones, so you let it slide. He finally slowed, releasing your hands as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Why didn’t you just mist away,” he seemed to tease, but his voice was too soft.

“I…” you paused, about to argue until you realized that you didn’t want to answer. You clamped your eyes shut against that feeling, then opened them again to glare at him. “Don’t change the subject. How could you tell I was lying?”

Law took a moment, seeming to search for his answer, which did not appease you.

“I’m not sure,” he smirked at your disgruntled hum. “You always seemed so… cute when you lied.”

He blinked, looking down as if he hadn’t meant to say that, but you wouldn’t give him a pass just for looking adorable.

So you bit him.

“Gah, what,” he sat up, pulling back in surprise until your teeth left his arm.

“Two things,” you snarked, propping up onto your elbows, “I want to know exactly what my tell is so I can get rid of it, then I want to hear all about how you thought I was cute back then.”

“So your tells are,” he grunted, catching your fist at the plural word, “sometimes the corner of your lip goes up just a bit–”

“It does not! That’s the first thing I trained out,” you argued, sitting up on your knees to face him. You narrowed your eyes at him while he ran his thumb over the edge of your mouth, until you sighed at his touch.

“Maybe I just pay more attention,” he mused, voice husky as he kissed your temple. His breath moved to your neck, your need for answers melting away. Until your body reminded you of the moment.

“Uh, Law,” you coughed, pushing him away gently, “do you have a towel?”

He returned from his adjacent bathroom with a warm, damp towel, helping you clean up the mess he’d made before kissing up your stomach and chest again.

“What’s my other tell,” you interrupted, his soft touches ending as he rolled his eyes. He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers before moving your own thumb across them.

“You rub your thumb over your fingernails,” he reported, brow raised as if judging your performance.

“I do that all the time,” you yanked your hand back, embarrassed that he’d read you so well. Lying was something you prided yourself on. It’s what kept you safe.

“It’s a self-soothing behavior,” he softened, pushing the hair back from your face. “And you’re right, you’re probably a great liar. I just spent too much time watching you.”

Releasing a frustrated breath, you looked at his stupid face, and couldn’t help but smile.

“Is this when you tell me how cute you thought I was?”

Law sucked his teeth, his bright eyes ready for a challenge, but instead, he kissed you. Unhurried lips and tongues, treasuring the taste of each other.

“I thought you were gross,” he whispered against you, earning a hard punch to the arm. He laughed before he continued, holding your wrists again. “But then I thought you were cute, and I thought that was gross too.”

You grinned at the memory of what a grouchy kid he was. For over two years, you’d spent everyday together, bickering, sparring, and causing chaos.

“At first, I studied you to gain an advantage during training,” he confessed with a sigh, looking away while his fingers tugged at the sheet. “I don’t know when it changed, but eventually I was watching you because I wanted to. Because you were cute.”

He teased the last word, caving in to your demands, and you rewarded him with another kiss, wrapping your arms around him. Soon hands and lips were traveling, until he laid you back against the pillows.

“Can I make you come now, or do you have other demands?”

You rolled to the side to hide your face while your skin burned, and his pleased hum and teasing kisses along your side didn’t help.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he soothed, your breath going too slow, and too shallow. “But I would love to make you feel good.”

His voice, his words, his gentle fingers that had pulled away to give you space, all of it made you freeze.

“What can I do to help you feel good, Y/N?”

There were so many strange thoughts in your head, most moving too fast for you to follow.

Except for one thought that felt more like an emotion, a need. You were barely conscious of it, yet it drove you forward, pulling him onto you.

Make him feel good.

Lost again in the way he touched you. Lost in the way he breathed your name while his marked fingers smoothed along your skin. Lost in the need to please him.

“Fu-huck,” he gasped out, moaning as your fingers wrapped around his shaft, already hard again.

Stroking him with purpose, you lined yourself up as you rubbed his tip through the new wetness his touch had drawn. His eyes rolled back before he buried his face in your neck, leaving a sloppy kiss against your skin.

A long whine left your lips, frustration making you writhe when he pulled away. He laid on his side at the edge of the bed, panting while his eyes tried to focus on your face.

You rolled, crawling toward him with your lip caught between your teeth, more needy sounds leaving your throat.

“Gods, you’re too fucking good,” he rasped, catching your hands before they could reach his cock again, “but, you didn’t answer my question, Y/N. How can I make you feel good?”

Your body slumped, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before his fingers brushed across them.

“Let me take care of you,” he pleaded, the words hot against your ear.

All you could do was nod, body limp as he lifted you back to the pillows, propping you up as if you were one of the precious comics on his shelves. That thought made you laugh, making him narrow his eyes at you until you giggled even more.

“Something funny,” he teased with that lovely smirk.

Words weren’t leaving your lips, so he sucked his teeth while he watched you squirm. Your breath stilled at the touch of his fingers along your inner thighs.

“It seemed like you enjoyed me eating you out earlier, until I started fingering you. Did I read that right?”

Your eyes went wide, pausing for a moment before your words spilled out.

“N-no, it all felt amazing! I just got overwhelmed, but you felt so good…”

He watched you closely then, and you wondered if you’d shown a tell.

But I didn't lie…

“Okay… Please tell me if you’re feeling overwhelmed, or if you don’t like something.”

“I will,” you promised, your voice a bit high while you tilted your head down to the side, looking up at him with a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“How about we use a safe word,” he suggested, smoothing a hand along your arm while he ignored your attempt to distract from the topic. “Do you already have one you’d like to use?”

Your eyes were a little wide as you shook your head, but a gentle kiss on your temple slowed your breathing.

“It should be a word that doesn’t mean much, and that we wouldn’t normally say. Anytime you’re feeling overwhelmed or want to stop, you can say it, okay,” he paused, waiting for you to nod before continuing. “How about… radish?”

“Why radish,” you snorted, your body loosening up.

“Why not,” he grinned at you. His smile was a sight you’d never get enough of. “Do you have any other ideas?”

Your lips quirked, but you agreed to the word.

“Perfect. Now, will you please tell me how to make you feel good?”

He stared at your parted lips while you froze. No words came to mind. Just tension, and a mild sense of danger.

“It’s alright if you don’t know,” he reassured, his eyes going soft as they raked over you. “Just talk to me. Is it alright if I touch you?”

You caught yourself rubbing your thumb over your fingernails when you agreed, stopping the movement before he noticed.

What’s wrong with me?

Law’s hands and lips traveled the length of your body, pulling soft gasps and sighs from your throat. You moved into his touch, reacting, showing him how good it felt.

“I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he whispered, looking down at your face while he traced his fingers along your leg. Your cheeks were already burning before a breathy moan surprised you both.

He cocked his head at you, repeating the movement. For some reason, the barest touch of his fingertips to the middle of your shin made you moan again, the ticklish sensation feeling better than you thought it should.

“Mm, found something,” he teased, leaning closer to kiss your embarrassed face. “Do you know any other places I can touch to make you moan like that?”

“Law,” you writhed, voice breathy as his fingers danced up your body.

“Come on, pretty. Tell me one thing that feels good. I know you can think of something.”

There was no pressure in his words, but there was heat, and the hint of a challenge. You still couldn’t think of any words, but you managed to move your head to the side, trailing your fingers along the crook of your neck.

He hummed as his fingers replaced yours, as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Your skin’s so soft,” he purred, the hunger in his words making your toes curl. “Does it feel good when I kiss here too?”

Whining, your body went loose when he laid beside you, one of his legs resting between yours before he kissed your neck again.

It felt so good, you could have stayed in this moment forever. The feel of his lips, tongue, facial hair, even his breath overwhelmed you. That sensitive skin sent electric shocks down to your lower back until you shook for him, his warm laughter only adding to it.

“Thank you for showing me what you like,” he breathed against your ear. “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

Law’s praise took every thought away, everything was gone while your body reacted. Your hands fisted the sheets, your thighs tried to rub together, seeking friction, but his leg was in the way.

“Mm, Y/N, is it alright if I finger you? You can say the word if you want me to stop, okay?”

Hesitation came back, along with anger. Anger at yourself for whatever was stopping you. For whatever was keeping you from enjoying this time with him.

Anger at yourself for not pleasing him by giving him what he wanted.

“It’s okay, hey,” Law soothed, his thumb stroking your cheek, “we can stop here, or we can do something else. Whatever you–”

“I want to,” you choked out. Clearing your throat wasn’t enough fix the broken sound in your voice. “I don’t know why, but… me feeling good seems…”

His soft eyes warmed your skin, even though you couldn’t meet them. He waited for you.

“I keep getting nervous when it’s just me,” you murmured, keeping your eyes wide to fight the heat there.

“Just you feeling pleasure,” he prompted, studying your face while you gulped, nodding to confirm. “You said you want to. Do you wanna try, and we can stop if you need to?”

“Mhm,” you agreed, looking up as you brushed away an unwelcome tear with the back of your hand.

Law pressed gentle kisses across your face, wiping away another wayward tear.

“You deserve to feel good, Y/N.” His fingers followed his pretty words, and you fought to just be here with him. So slow, so light, that tattooed hand trailed lower, until he traced around your entrance, leaning close to your ear again. “I wanna make you come so bad. Please, can I feel you come on my fingers?”

Your “yes,” came out in a whine, and you both moaned at the slide of his fingers, your drenched pussy aching for his touch.

“Gods, you're so wet,” he panted, playing with your clit while he watched your face. “Can I–”

You interrupted his request, nodding permission before he pushed one finger, then two inside of you. His eyes never stopped scanning, and he sat up to free his other hand, caressing down your body.

It felt so good, but there was something. You’d been able to keep memories out, but you couldn’t relax.

“What do you need,” he checked in, his skilled fingers bringing you close, but not close enough.

“I feel like I–” you moaned, his thumb moving over your clit while his fingers curled up to that spongy spot inside you. “I feel like I need to make you feel good.”

“Mm, you are making me feel good,” he rasped, his body seeming to relax at your confession. “I love the way you’re gripping my fingers like this. I love the little sounds you make. Watching you come would make my fucking year, Y/N.”

A laugh fell from your lips, then a moan as he pressed a little deeper.

“You don’t need it, but you have my permission to come,” he teased, his voice just a bit too real, and somehow those words released something. A tiny smirk graced his lips as you started to fall apart.

“Gonna be a good girl, and come for me?”

“Fuck,” you breathed, the steady rhythm he’d found was building so much pressure in your core it almost hurt.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well,” he praised, his free hand grabbing your chin to force your heavy lidded eyes to his. “You’re close, yeah? I want you to tell me exactly what you need so you can come on my fingers like a good girl. I know you can.”

“Law…”

“Can you do that for me?”

So close. So fucking close. But here was a new plateau, and all of his wonderful work was about to go to waste. Until you thought of something.

Something that came with a pile of confusing memories and shame. Something you would have ignored, and stuffed away if you hadn’t felt so safe.

If Law hadn’t made you feel so safe.

“Choke me, please.”

The request was almost silent, but you saw his lips part slightly. A hesitation. A mountain of self loathing threatened to roll over you.

Long, tattooed fingers encircled your throat, a necklace marked with “DEATH.”

“Such a good girl, telling me what you want. Let me feel you– Mm, there’s my girl.”

He wrapped the perfect amount of pressure around your neck, keeping the pace with his other hand until your body started bucking, your eyes rolling white.

It was everything you fucking needed.

And it kept going.

Law never stopped giving and giving, praising you while you shattered. You almost went to mist from the overwhelm, only managing to stay solid because you needed to keep coming for him. For you.

You mourned the loss of those wicked fingers choking and fucking you, but he worshipped your body again while aftershocks tore through you.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he chuckled, laughing harder at the gibberish you replied with. He kissed and caressed you while your body came back to the room. “Can I get you anything? Water, or are you hung–”

He’d moved away slightly, but you reached out with your wobbly arms, pulling him close. He hummed at your touch, then gasped again when your hands found his cock, the heat of him making you writhe.

“Y/N, we don’t have to–”

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, sluggishly rolling onto your stomach. Looking over your shoulder at him, you got to witness the loveliest, most desperate look you’d ever seen on his face when you lifted your ass toward him. “I need your cock.”

There was no hesitation now.

Just the whispered, “say the word if you need to,” before he was behind you, thrusting into your twitching cunt while you screamed for him.

Tattooed hands on your hips helped him slam into you, hitting that perfect spot so fast, so hard, that you came in what felt like seconds.

“Oh fuck. Pussy feels so good, baby,” he moaned, slurring a bit before pressing your upper body into the bed. The new angle made you scream louder, clawing at the sheets.

“You like that, Y/N,” he checked in, voice strained as he fought his need.

“Pull my hair,” you demanded softly.

One of those hands pushed you down, his weight between your shoulder blades while he pounded into you. Frenzied thrusts rocked your body while his free hand fisted into the hair at the back of your head, finally giving you that sting you needed.

“Do it again,” he forced through his teeth, his bruising grip making you drool onto the sheets. “Come for me, pretty. Come on my cock right fucking now.”

“Law, fuck, I’m…”

Words were gone, his quarters ringing with your breathy screams, and his heavy grunts. The slapping of wet, needy flesh nearly drowned you both out until he buried himself as deep as he could go, your toes curling while he filled you with heat. Your body milked the come out of him until you both collapsed, sweaty limbs still reaching for each other.

“Are you okay,” he coaxed, brushing another hot tear away from your cheek.

“I’m happy.”

Those words had left your lips many times over the past few years, but this time you didn’t have to lie. This time you let tears fall without shame, laughing as he left tickling kisses anywhere he could reach, holding you close. More laughter floated through the air while he carried you to the bathroom. You trailed your fingertips along his lines of ink, as though you were walking the paths around your new home, memorizing each lovely view.

“You know this doesn't mean I’m gonna go easy on you, right,” Law threatened as he threw a blanket over your bare skin, wrapping himself around you.

“You’re such an ass,” you hummed, nuzzling into his warmth.

“You could be nicer to your captain, you know,” he quipped, his deep voice making you shiver.

“If you’re my captain, does that make me a Heart Pirate?”

His arm tensed around you, and your mind cringed against your presumption.

Nothing’s changed. I’m still a tool, a threat, even if I am something more. Don’t fucking push–

“Only if you want to be.”

Law’s hushed offer stilled your thoughts. You couldn’t answer without seeing his face, so you twisted in his arms until you could cup his cheek, knowing that the shy smile on his face reflected your own. His eyes poured over you, until his brows creased slightly as he waited for your response. Waited to hear if you wanted to spend your life as a pirate, living on this submarine, putting yourself in danger. Waited to hear if you wanted to stay with him.

It wasn’t a question.

“I do,” you promised with a kiss, pulling back to smirk at him, “but I’m still gonna call you an ass.”

Soon you were begging, breathless as you lost the fight, your cheeks hurting from laughing after his long fingers had stopped tickling you. Being wrapped up in each other still felt unreal. He fell asleep so fast, his light snores a comforting sound, even when you couldn’t stop the tears from staining your skin.

You’d never felt safer.

But memories were still there.

Doffy.

He’ll find me. He’ll take me back. After he makes me watch him kill Law.

He’ll probably use my hands. Just like…

You went completely limp, head lolling as your body fought the sticky memory of blood on your hands.

Part of your brain still had memories. Part of your brain berated you for not enjoying this perfect moment with Law. But most of your brain went to a strange buzzing place, unfocused eyes seeing nothing but a blur.

When this empty space wasn’t frightening, it was relaxing, in a sick way.

Leaving.

Being nothing.

Safe.

“Y/N? You okay,” he checked in, groggy voice filled with concern.

Your limp body rolled as he shifted. A tiny part of you floated above the bed, watching, yelling at yourself to move, hating that he had to deal with this.

The rest of you was trapped in a fish tank, sinking to the bottom.

Law stayed with you. Even though you couldn’t feel, even though you couldn’t hear, you knew he was there. He was there when you returned, soothing your “sorry’s” away. Asking what you needed, bringing you water, then starting all over again as if it hadn’t happened.

Holding you close as he drifted off to sleep, and this time, you followed him.

This time, Law pulled you from the nightmares. He reminded you where you were while he kept you from clawing at your chest. He waited until he saw your eyes stay present, then he teased you until you were his again.

“Hurry up, or I’ll make you use the barracks bathroom,” he warned, pushing you through the door with a towel and a change of clothes. He beamed at your middle finger, and you could hear him counting down random numbers while you got ready.

“Why don’t you just join me,” you challenged, about to turn on the water.

“You know why.”

You showered fast, even though your body twisted with need at the thought of him shoving you against the tile wall, but your mood soured when you looked in the mirror. It was disorienting to see that face on this submarine. To see that face anywhere but at Doffy’s side.

You managed to pull yourself out before you fell too deep, but this time you didn’t push it away. No hiding, no running in fear.

Doffy lived there, behind your misty eyes. The weight of his presence hung around your shoulders like that heavy, pink coat. Your body screamed with the need to be safe, the need to be whatever he wanted you to be. His laugh echoed in your skull as he called for his “pretty doll.”

But you weren’t a doll anymore.

I’m a Heart Pirate now, Doffy. And I’m gonna help Law kill you.

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me all the ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Heeeyyyy we made it. We completed the fic request. It's over... Lol, not! I have so much more planned for this story, but there will be a pause here while I circle back to another fic. But fret not, I'm obsessed with this story, and have already outlined some upcoming chapters!

Thank you so much for joining me! Again, I hope none of you relate to the reader's trauma, and her struggle to enjoy her own pleasure, but if you do, you're not alone 🖤 I hope you are given all the patience and love you need so that you can enjoy all the pleasure you desire.

You deserve to feel good!!

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass | @lovemesomefanfic846

Part 6

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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adventuringblind · 6 months

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is oscar the only driver you do autistic!reader for? if not can I request lando x daniel x autistic!reader.

any situation is fine I don't mind 😊

My love, my life, and nerodivergent partners in crime

Daniel Riccairdo x reader x Lando Norris

Genre: angsty fluff (I think)

Summarry: How Daniel managed to keep two nerdiverdent young adults in line... nobody will ever know

Warnings: Lando is ADHD coded, and you can't change my mind (and he's dyslexic anyway), AGE GAP, Max loves to tease

Notes: I am officially only taking requests for poly reader inserts at this time. Also, do Lando and Daniel have a ship name?!?! I need this information for my masterlist, please, and thanks.

Masterlist

Everyone always wondered why Daniel Ricciardo trailed behind Lando Norris and his girlfriend by three steps. People have theorized its because he's thirdwheeling. Some say the pair doesn't pay attention to him.

The real reason, though? It's his way of showing he cares in the paddock.

Max teases him about it all the time and is the only one who gets away with it. The two younger are, however, a chaotic mess. They can not make it from one place to another without something happening. So Daniel trails behind them a few steps to make sure they make it to their destination.

It's certainly wasn't an ideal way to get together. Especially because Daniel is older than both by more than is socially acceptable by most.

Ironically, none of them were together when Daniel started at McLaren. An Australian who smiles a lot, a Brit who is loose lipped, and a shy little psychologist who hates talking until you get her on driver brains and how they work. What could possibly go wrong?

She started work at McLaren the year before Daniel. Something in the strategy department. She watches and listens and somehow can predict what the drivers are going to do, what they need to perform, and how their opponents might respond. Lando says it's a superpower. Daniel says she's autistic and watches how people behave for a living (she agrees with him).

The three of them got along better than anyone wants to admit. The world saw then as awkward and dysfunctional. Which wasn't a lie, but it's also just their combinations of personalities.

Daniel picked up on it first. The stolen glances and blushed cheeks. Then, drunk confessions happen. Neither of the younger two like drinking. Which is ridiculous, in Daniel's opinion. Or maybe it was ridiculous because he's the one who drunkenly confesses to the pair while they attempt to get him back to his room.

Supposedly, Max was there and heard everything. Daniel denies this relentlessly.

Lando picked up on the confession, confronted him about it, and then awkwardly kissed him on his tip toes (he was shorter then).

The biggest hurdle was the female. The one who studies people. The one who can predict what Daniel is going to have for lunch on Friday at two because he likes to eat later.

She's clueless.

Lando tries to tell her. Daniel attempts sober. She doesn't get it.

The two have to put it in the form of a business meeting and tell her until she gets it. That seems to work as they end up going on a date post confession.

If he's being honest, half the time love them is really just making sure they are getting along with the world. Not people, the environments they end up in (which often includes the people).

So Daniel walks three steps behind them. The people tease on socials. They edit him in tiktoks. But he could care less.

He loves his two nerodivergent partners. He loves their little quirks and they way they see the world. So Daniel determines he's okay being behind them. Because he loves them and wants nothing more than to watch out for his partners in crime.

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cringefail-clown · 2 months

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Jakehal is very fun. But why dirkkri? I dont understand what's appealing about it :? confused

theres a lot of things i like about dirkri and honestly i dont even know where to start lmfao

first of all, and its mostly a funny reason - davekat on crack. like some traces of davekat are still there - the arguing about shit, stoic facade vs emotional mess, all the good stuff, but its also so much more exaggerated it makes it this much more ridiculous. gets even better when you consider them under the lense of swap aus like alphaswitch or tbau, where they land on the meteor together. theyre most likely hunting each other for sports by the year two

second of all, the funney. theyd be so fucking funny together. their smallest arguments would take like twenty pages of non-stop flow of red-orange text to resolve, and not because they came to a consensus but because some third party physically dragged them away from their electronics. it doesnt do any good, since it only gives them both time to think over new arguments to use, and theyre back at it as soon as they get their phones back. like if we had a tournament about which ship would do the most collateral damage to the overall group, i think these two would be Up There. karkat would gauge his eyes out from frustration, because now not only does he have to deal with his piece of shit, know-it-all other self, but now theres also Fucking Dirk thrown into the mix. their home life is absolute insanity, a small jab about the other forgetting to buy sugar once again devolves into a screaming match about the merits and flaws of communism or some other inane shit. and theyre doing it for fun, they enjoy debating with each other, because often times they have vastly different opinions, and comparing their beliefs challenges them intelectually and morally. from the outside perspective theyre one of the most dysfunctional pair in the paradox space, when in fact thats simply how they want their relationship to be, and it makes them better people overall.

third reason is that theyre thematically delicious. dirk is a control freak, micromanaging his and his friends constantly. hes terrified of losing control, but hes also desperate for someone to just tell him what the fuck he should do. dirk doesnt think he should be in control of others, because he believes hes a naturally evil person capable of horrible acts, at the same time he doesnt trust anyone else to get things done but himself. hes a whole collection of contradictions.

kankri desperately needs to be in control as well. hes constantly injecting himself into conversations he has no business being in, trying to find someone thatd listen to what he has to say. hes wants to guide others, but his efforts are flawed, because he doesnt listen to other perspectives - hes got tunnel vision, as he thinks hes the one in the right while everyone else is wrong or ignorant (cringefail seer literally). he doesnt trust anyone else to make decisions for him, and becomes defensive when he thinks others are attempting to coddle him. his ass was definitely culled on beforus.

theyre also both so fucking lonely. dirk conciously tries to put difference between himself and his friends, worrying hell "corrupt" them. kankri tries to connect to his friends, but his behavior alienates him from them to the point of no one except maybe porrim want to have anything to do with him.

my point is, kankri wants to guide people but has to learn to listen to others and reflect on his own flawed opinions. dirk has to learn to trust that people closest to him can get shit done on their own and loosen up, as well as realise hes not evil at the core. them helping each other out - dirk teaching kankri about different perspectives, kankri teaching dirk about letting others do their thing - is something i think about a lot.

also i like to think theyd spar for fun a lot as well. its not really a reason and wholly my own personal headcanon but i wanna mention it as well bc its so funny to me. i like the idea of kankris behaviour being a complete reverse of karkat - where karkat is all bark no bite and doesnt like fighting or violence, kankri puts up a front of the beacon of love and peace and tolerance, but in his free time he gets his rifle and goes shooting at the fucking squirrels or some shit. i think he wouldnt have the same qualms about strifing as karkat. like dirk would try to jokingly jab his finger at kankris side and he would just fucking flip him over his shoulder and onto the table breaking it in half, because he doesnt like being touched unexpectedly and by gods dirk when will you fucking learn. he goes from 0 to 100 real fast. its such a hysterical concept for me.

#homestuck #dirk strider #kankri vantas #dirkri #dirkkri #turnabout au #homestuck turnabout #alphaswitch #tagging it as well bc well. dirkri #is it dirkri manifesto? its dirkri manifesto #wally where are you i need your words tell em tell em why dirkri is so fucking good

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smusherina · 9 days

Text

yard work - chapter 10 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 11

You saw Regina around. You could spot her pink convertible miles away. It was impossible to ignore her in the hallways as the crowd parted for her like the Red Sea. Hard as you tried, there was no real way to ignore Regina George.

Your friends had been keeping a wide berth from you, probably due to your recent affiliation with the lamest of the lame, Janis and Damien, so you spent most of your time at school alone. It was fine. You couldn't go skating with the guys anyway, with the snow and stuff.

No friends, no Regina, and definitely no Janis or Damien. You spent the majority of your time alone. With the fog of your emotions and the constant whirring of the wheels in your head, you couldn't say you minded. You would've probably been shitty company anyway.

You were constantly distracted and away in your own world. Questions kept rolling around your mind, doubt saturating every decision you'd made that night.

At the same time, you couldn't see a world in which that could've gone well. Kissing Regina George, regardless of who had initiated it, was an omen for bad things. It ruined the life of Janis 'Imi'ike and that of Aaron Samuels once and then twice. It ruined yours.

And even if you were being dramatic, because life did go on and you'd graduate and go on, the turmoil you felt now very much felt like it. The only one that'd been spared was Shane Oman unless there was something beyond the surface about him. You doubted it. The guy was shallow like a puddle.

You knew—a lot of things you knew but never said a thing about, so did you really know?—that there had been dysfunction in your relationship with Regina for a long time. Back then, she'd been possessive and jealous, would monopolize your time, would keep you at her beck and call constantly. You'd liked it, liked how she seemed to need you, how you felt wanted around her. And then it stopped. She stopped asking you to her place and eventually began blatantly ignoring you.

You'd learned to take hints early on, particularly when you weren't welcome. You'd learned to stop knocking on the bedroom door after nightmares because while dad would allow you to sleep in the bed, he'd do it with a scowl on his face. You'd learned to not ask for things, learned to fade into the background, learned to watch out for clues.

So when Regina left you alone, you didn't fight back. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how miserable it made you, you didn't beg or cry for her. That was something you shared with Regina. Emotion was a private thing.

That's where your similarities ended, though. Whereas she'd learned to control her innermost feelings, you'd just pushed them away for later. Where she seemed to be completely immune, your condition was fragile, prone to fissures.

Or maybe she was more like you than you thought. Maybe she just had a bigger bottle than you did in which to seal away the bad things.

The thing was, you'd never know. A while ago you'd come to the conclusion that you'd take her back every time. You weren't sure if you could stand by that, but you also did not know if you could resist.

The end of November was spent anticipating Christmas, resisting the melancholy, and praying for snow days. You'd never done better in school because you were putting all your energy into homework and studying. The teachers liked it, but with the SATs already over with there wasn't much use for it. Still, you kept doing it. You managed to surpass Cady Heron with your math grades.

You had a feeling she was playing dumb for Aaron Samuels. You had to resist laughing at the irony. Cady hated Regina so much and yet was acting exactly like her. Why she tricked Aaron when he was single, you did not know. Maybe it was a power play.

Grudgingly, you admitted Regina looked better than ever. She was slow to lose the pounds she'd gained with the help of the Kälteen bars, but if somebody were to ask you she looked better that way. She was actually a normal weight, looked human and not like a mannequin.

"So, still not over her, huh?" You startled, banging your head against the lockers you were leaning against.

"Ow, what the fuck, Janis?" You snarked, whirling to look at her. You rubbed at the spot where you hit your head, frowning down at her. You didn't want to talk to her and the pain only made you more irritable.

"Jeez, it was just a question." She held her arms up in surrender, though the evil smirk on her face spoke otherwise.

"It's none of your business." You fired back and turned to walk away from her. The hallway had gone back to chaos once Regina had passed, so you had a little trouble trying to navigate the throngs of people.

"C'mon, don't be such a spoilsport!" She stubbornly walked after you, Damian trailing behind you two. "We have some very important information to share. And also questions."

"I'm busy."

"With what?"

"No comment."

"Cool, so that means nothing. Grab her, Dee!" With that, you were yanked back by the hoop of your backpack. Damian did not react to your indignant squawking as you were swiftly transported to the back of the school.

"This is your spot, right?" Janis declared as she ducked under the bleachers. "You got any cigs?"

"I thought you weren't allowed to smoke in front of your boyfriend." You said, crossing your arms stubbornly.

"Har har, you're so funny." She smiled cheesily at you, her face going slack as she searched through her pockets. "Today, please." There was a coin in her hand.

"That'll be seventy-five."

"You can't up the price!"

"Watch me." You shrugged, smiling in the same sarcastic way she'd done. Damian was watching you two like a tennis match.

"You're a fraud." She muttered as she procured a quarter. "Is next time gonna be a dollar?"

"I sincerely hope there will not be a next time. In case you have not noticed, I do not like you."

"Yeah, you've been real subtle." Damian piped in sassily.

You reached into your coat pockets and pulled out your pack. You offered it to Damian, who scrunched his nose and waved you away. You shrugged and flicked the lighter to life.

"What, he'd get one for free?" Janis watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. "You got a thing for gay guys?"

"He's got that feminine energy." You said as you handed her the lighter.

"I feel like that's offensive."

"Hey, I'm not saying all gay guys have a feminine energy." You said, taking a drag. "You do." You nodded at Damian. He only nodded back, a little smile on his face.

"Amazing, we've established there's no prejudice here in this space. Now," She took a drag. "Mind telling me why Regina isn't performing with the plastics this year?"

That was news to you. "She isn't?"

"I was hoping you'd have known something about that. We've gathered intel that Gretchen's freaking out about it."

"Cady's info isn't reliable anymore?"

"She's not in anymore. She's turned into one of them, there's no hope." Janis sulked, leaning against the metal. Damian patted her on the shoulder.

You hummed, unsure of what you should say. "You haven't, uh, heard any rumours about me, have you?"

Janis perked up like a dog at the word treat. "What, should there be?"

"No." You stated and took a drag. "Just wondering."

"You haven't asked before." Damian piped in. "And you don't seem the type to care."

"It was just a question." You defended, sounding fake even to your own ears. "Honest."

"No," Janis breathed out. "You- she- oh my god, not you too!" She took you by the shoulders and shook. "She kissed you!"

"No, she did not!" You tried to protest and dislodged from her hold. "Don't jump to conclusions."

"Oh, my friend, she's- she's plotting something big." Janis looked like a kid on Christmas day. "She's gonna ruin you in the most spectacular way. Maybe she's gonna do a solo and a slide show about you being a lesbian. No, that's too much. What if-"

As Janis went on, sounding way too excited about your demise, you kept smoking. Damian kept her going, humming and saying affirmations at the appropriate times, all the while eyeing you. You didn't know what his deal was.

He was a pretty loud, friendly guy most of the time. Not around you, though. What his problem was, you did not care to know. You could tolerate them for a smoke or two, but you had no desire to be their friend. As Janis continued to ramble, cigarette basically forgotten, you inclined your head at Damian and left.

Regina and Co. had done their Christmas dance routine at the talent show for years. It began all the way in middle school. Breaking the streak was a big deal. Mrs George was always there, filming the whole thing and dancing along. Secretly, you'd always thought it was more silly than sexy, but you'd never been one to complain about seeing Regina in latex.

Once school finished for the day, you wasted no time getting home. After the weekend, the last week of school would begin. The talent show was on Friday, exactly seven days away. So, the last seven days of your life, basically.

If Janis was right and Regina was going solo, the chances of your survival were little to none. You weren't self-centred, but it'd be dumb to ignore the signs. Something pretty big had gone down even nobody else knew it. If you were wrong for assuming the fight had been a big thing for both you and Regina, well, then you were wrong.

You'd most definitely have to switch schools. If Regina was gonna go ahead with her other accusation as well, that you'd done stuff to her without her consent, you could be facing charges. Dad would not be happy.

That could be something you needed. Maybe you would've gotten over her faster back then if you hadn't had to be around her. Maybe this was the last hurrah.

Toeing your shoes off, hanging your jacket on the hook, and throwing your backpack onto the couch, you headed for the kitchen. You were a little short on food. You'd have to make do with cup noodles for the weekend before dad sent you more money on Monday.

Boiling cup of flavourless noodles and bland broth in front of you, you got to thinking. Maybe you could cook something for her. A simple recipe, both an apology and a goodbye. You'd have to find an opportunity to give it to her alone. Too hard. It had to be something you could put into her locker.

(In addition to selling things at school, you'd done some paid burglary on lockers. It'd been fun, but the one time you'd been caught had been enough to stop you in your tracks.)

Your mind drifted to the Burn Book. You'd never actually seen it, but you figured it was some sort of scrapbook. Cady had made it seem like one, at least.

A scrapbook for Regina George. Now that was something. Cheesy. It would most definitely end up in the garbage. But, hey, you did have all the pictures Abuela used to take of you. And you could write in it too. She'd probably take better to reading about your feelings than hearing about them. If she would even read it.

You could try, though. You didn't want to give up like last time.

Notes: Slightly less polished than I'd like, but I'll return to edit at a later date.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @natashamaximoff-69, @alexkolax, @jareaul0ver, @here4theqts, @charleeeesworld, @natsbiggestfan1, @brocoliisscared, @yellowwallflowers, @scarlettbitchx, @ayoungexwife, @cyberbonesworld, @syddie-reads, @screechcat, @theenglishswiftie,@gabby-duhh, @sweetmissnothing, @masterofpuppets-10, @l1lass, @starved-mortal, @nothanksbye07, @nenas19, @jvuyii

(btw guys, make sure to check you've got your settings so that you can be tagged! some of the tags don't work (i think??) unfortunately)

(if you want to be added to the list, say so in the comments!)

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #wlw

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dreamwritesimagines · 1 month

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [13] - Cupcakes

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: There are many ways to plan a wedding.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Masterlist

Apparently, the fact that you had been in a car chase with bullets flying around last night didn’t change the fact that you had to go cake tasting the next morning.

Even if you were in desperate need of some sleep.

Bucky had brought you back into the honeymoon suit last night and put around twenty bodyguards in the hallway before leaving, and even if you wanted to go with him to question the captives, you were way too tired to do so. Since he was nowhere to be found in the suit after you woke up, you figured he had gone to his apartment instead of here after he was done. You heaved a sigh as you filled your cup with coffee, then walked to sit down on the couch and pulled your phone up to check the schedule for the day. Taking a sip of your coffee, you sent a quick text to Becca, and looked over your shoulder when you heard the door open.

Bucky offered you a small smile as he stepped into the hotel suit, and you tilted your head.

“Hey,” you said. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Hey,” he rasped out, exhaustion laced in his tone and you frowned slightly.

“Why do you look like you haven’t slept last night?”

Bucky shook his head, making his way to the coffee pot before grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

“Because I haven’t—” He stopped talking when he looked down at the red fingertip stains on the white porcelain cup he was holding, then cursed under his breath and went to wash his hands in the sink. You took a better look at him, now noticing the blood on his clothes and pulled back slightly.

“Bucky?”

“Not my blood,” he said. “I was uh—we were questioning the guys.”

“The whole night?”

“Mm hm,” he said, wiping his hands with a paper towel before grabbing another cup to pour himself some coffee. You leaned back to the kitchen island, cradling your cup in your palms.

“You should get some rest.”

“No time for that,” he said, taking a huge sip of his coffee. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and go to work. How do you feel? Could you get some sleep last night?”

“Are you trying to divert the subject?”

“Yeah, is it working?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “You need to sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” he joked, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Bucky.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I don’t,” you said quickly. “I don’t worry about you as a principle. It’s just that if you get sick because you haven’t slept or whatever, we’ll have to postpone the wedding and I know you haven’t met our wedding planner but she is not the type of person you cross.”

“Noted,” Bucky said. “Do you have any plans today?”

“I’m going cake tasting with Becca,” you said. “So did the guys say anything?”

“One of them will, eventually,” Bucky said. “We’re being very convincing.”

You hummed. “Do you have a preference?”

“In weapons?”

You blinked a couple of times.

“In cakes,” you said. “Flavor wise.”

“Ah,” he said. “Sorry, my mind is still at the warehouse. Anything but banana.”

“Very helpful,” you muttered. “You don’t have a favorite flavor in cakes?”

“Not really, I’m good with all of them—” he started but his phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, then his eyes skimmed the lines before he let out a groan.

“What?” you asked and he rubbed at his eyes.

“I forgot I had a meeting with Stark,” he said and cleared his throat. “Great, okay. So doing wedding stuff today then?”

“Yeah I gotta take a shower and get ready, but I can wait. You’re the one who looks like a horror movie killer.”

He grinned. “You know, if you ever wanted to save water…”

“You’re about to pass out from exhaustion and you can still make sex jokes?” you asked with your brows raised and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I have my priorities,” he said. “So if you—”

“That will never happen,” you pointed out. “Go.”

He held up his hands.

“Okay, okay…” he said as he climbed the stairs and you shook your head slightly when you heard the bathroom door close.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, taking another sip of your coffee. “Can’t believe I’m marrying him.”

When you planned this cake tasting with Becca, you were sure it would be fun for you but safe to say, Becca’s mood wasn’t the best after last night. When you first talked about it, you had said Leila could join as well but since she wasn’t here, you could only guess they had a big talk last night, after the car chase incident.

“So,” you said as you sat down and grabbed the nearest cupcake, then read the label that informed you that it was walnut and carrot. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” Becca said, turning the cupcake in her hand and you pressed your lips together.

“How is Leila after last night?”

“Uh, she went to work,” Becca said, still staring at her cupcake. “And hasn’t texted me yet so I wouldn’t know.”

“Did she say anything last night?” you asked as you bit down on the cupcake, then shook your head and put it aside while Becca heaved a sigh.

“Yeah we talked.”

“And?”

“She says—I mean obviously she was terrified but she kept saying it wasn’t my fault.”

You hummed. “But you don’t believe her.”

“Well she has been in zero car chases with bullets flying around before she met me, so…” Becca trailed off and you reached out to hold her hand.

“Becca…”

“She’s going to leave me,” Becca said and cleared her throat. “You know what, she should leave me. That’s the right choice there.”

“Becca!”

“I never thought I’d say this, but maybe mom was right.”

You rolled your eyes. “I love Winnifred, but I wouldn’t take her advice on romance.”

“No no,” Becca said. “She kept saying this life is no fit for civilians, and she’s right.”

“You’re not even officially in the business,” you told her. “I mean I can see why being with a civilian would put them in danger if you’re one of the bosses, but you’re not. You don’t even want to be.”

“It doesn’t matter though,” Becca insisted. “I put my girlfriend in danger—”

“HYDRA put your girlfriend in danger,” you said. “And everyone is fine except those guys. I don’t know where Bucky took them but—”

“The usual warehouse.”

“Ah,” you said. “Well apparently he questioned them all night last night, so I can assure you that we’re taking revenge.”

“My girlfriend’s safety is more important to me than revenge,” she said and you pulled back slightly.

“Right,” you said. “No I know. But they’re never going to hurt anyone else, I assure you. And Leila is safe.”

She pursed her lips together and shut her eyes before squeezing at your hand.

“Sorry if that came out snappy.”

“No I get it,” you said. “Trust me.”

“It’s just…” she muttered and swallowed thickly. “Is this going to be the rest of my life? Always looking over my shoulder and worrying I might get someone killed?”

“Of course not,” you said in a rush. “No way. We had truce so far and it never happened before right? It’s just until we get rid of these assholes that we need to be extra careful, that’s all. After that, it will all be fine.”

She scoffed a small laugh.

“You sound like Bucky.”

“That might be the worst thing you ever said to me throughout our friendship,” you deadpanned and she let out a giggle.

“He looked pretty worried last night.”

“I mean I’d say so, you’re his little sister—”

“No no, for you,” she said. “We had a talk when he took me and Leila home.”

You pulled your brows together and shook your head.

“No way, Bucky doesn’t worry about me,” you said. “Why would he?”

Becca blinked a couple of times, and opened her mouth then closed it again to lean her fist on her lips, as if trying to control herself.

“Because we’re picking cakes for your wedding right now?”

“Oh yeah but that’s the only reason,” you said. “If I get killed, he will have to do business with Ian and he won’t do it so… It’s in his self-interest rather than my wellbeing.”

“I can’t believe I used to accuse Bucky of being oblivious.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Okay so, my relationship issues aside, let’s pick the perfect cake for you and my brother’s wedding that is completely pragmatical on both sides, nothing more.”

You nodded fervently, then turned to look at the table.

“Not the bananas though, apparently he doesn’t like banana flavor in cakes.”

Becca raised her brows and tried to bite back a smile.

“Right. Uh huh.”

“Anyways,” you said and grabbed the next cupcake. “Let’s do a pragmatical cake tasting then.”

By the time you were done with everything you were supposed to do, it was already evening. You and Becca had picked two cakes but you couldn’t be sure so you had asked the bakery to give you a box of them so that you could get Bucky’s opinion as well.

Even though the idea of making his slice banana flavored just to mess with him was tempting, you were going to play nice.

Well, as nice as you could.

You pulled over in front of the warehouse and left the car with your bodyguards following you. Bucky’s men rushed around as soon as they saw you walking there with the small bag thrown over your arm, and one of them opened the door to no doubt let Bucky know. You smiled at the men by the door.

“May I?”

“Of—of course ma’am,” one of them said, opening the door for you and you stepped inside to see Bucky approaching the door.

“Charm?”

“Hi there,” you said looking around the warehouse. You had been here a couple of times while you were still the heir, and it looked as huge as you remembered. You could see the tied up figured on the chair far away in the room as the familiar scent of blood hit your nostrils, and you scrunched up your face before turning to Bucky’s men. “Could you leave us please?”

They turned to look at Bucky who nodded, so they all left one by one, leaving you with him and the tied figure that almost looked unconscious. Bucky went to the table to grab a towel so that he could wipe his bloodied hands.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wedding stuff,” you said, putting the bag on the table to open the small cardboard box. “I’m supposed to let them know tonight about which flavor we picked, and I figured I wouldn’t have the time if you decide to spend the whole night here again.”

“Okay but—”

“Also what kind of a question is that? We’re getting married and I can’t visit you at work, asshole?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Here,” you cut him off by pushing a piece of cupcake into his mouth before he could say anything else and he pulled his brows together as he chewed on it, obviously deciding that arguing with you was useless.

“This is amazing,” he said. “What is this?”

“Lemon coconut,” you said as you tore a piece of the other cupcake in the box while he nodded.

“We can go with this one—”

“No so fast buddy, try this too,” you said, pushing the piece of the other cupcake into his mouth again and he chewed on it, deep in thought.

“And this?”

“Chocolate blueberry.”

“Fuck, this is a hard decision.”

“I know right?” you asked while the guy tied to the chair let out a whine. “I’m more leaning towards lemon coconut but…”

“Yeah no, chocolate blueberry is delicious too—why don’t we have two cakes?”

“Because the cake is symbolical Bucky!” you whispered while the guy let out another groan. “This marriage is going to require us to take some decisions about business together, how are we going to do that if we can’t decide on—shut it asshole!”

Bucky looked over his shoulder at the guy. “Yeah prick, we’re having a conversation here.”

“Fuck you,” the guy managed to wheeze out and Bucky shook his head slightly.

“You’d think he’d be more cooperative since I killed the other guy in front of him.”

You hummed, picking at the cupcake. “We are killing him too right?”

“Obviously, he put you and Becca in danger.”

“He also made Becca upset!” you said. “You know how I feel when people make Becca upset.”

Bucky popped the piece of cupcake into his mouth, then nodded his head.

“Lemon coconut it is,” he said. “Can I go back to beating the fuck out of him now?”

“Yeah don’t let me stop you,” you said and grabbed another cupcake from the box to follow him to the guy.

It was quite obvious that Bucky had broken every single bone in his face considering how he looked. Blood was dripping from his nose and mouth, his breaths were leaving his bloodied lips in pained groans but he still managed to look up at you while you leaned sideways to the column close to you, nibbling on the cupcake.

“Oh isn’t this the princess?” he said with great difficulty but let out a groan when Bucky grabbed his throat to squeeze it.

“I didn’t say you could look at her,” Bucky said calmly and you grinned.

“Hi there,” you said, chewing on the cupcake. “You seemed more confident while you were chasing me with a car, huh?”

The guy let out a choked noise and Bucky tilted his head, then pulled his hand back so that he could breathe again.

“You fucking bitch…” the guy started but he didn’t get to finish his sentence when Bucky punched him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of his lungs. He coughed while Bucky shook his head slightly.

“He just doesn’t learn,” he told you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“They never do,” you said, turning to the guy. “That was very rude by the way. Someone should teach you some manners.”

The guy scoffed and spat out blood.

“Maybe someone should teach you, you spoiled slut—”

He didn’t get to say anything else when Bucky pulled out his knife and rammed it right into his kneecap, making him let out a howl of pain.

“Maybe,” you said, your voice completely calm. “It’s not going to be you who teaches me anything though.”

He tried to catch his breath while you popped the rest of the cupcake into your mouth, then tilted your head.

“Bucky?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Yes sweetheart?”

“Make him do it again.”

Bucky shot you a grin and twisted the knife, the guy’s scream echoing through the warehouse again.

Chapter 14

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob bucky x reader #mob boss bucky barnes #mob!au #mob au

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spooky-holtz · 16 days

Text

Sicilian Scheming

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Prompt: "I seen you were looking for ideas for fics and was wondering if you’d write one where Mellisa’s Nona comes to visit her at Abbot during summer planning where she meets teacher Reader and essentially forces them to go on a date together even though they don’t get along well but they end up really hitting it off then a time skip to their wedding where Nona’s bragging about getting them together?"

I've diverted from the prompt a little but the core of it still stands. Strap in.

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

Make no mistake, you absolutely love teaching the third grade but by the time summer comes around, you’re glad to see them go. Summer vacation gives you a chance to relax and enjoy your time away from the stuffy brick building that is Abbott Elementary, spending weeks at a time curled up on the window ledge of your apartment basking in the sun with a good novel and often a crisp glass of wine.

You rarely get chance to see your co-workers save for the coffee dates you have with Janine, often meeting the smaller woman around the corner from her home to sit and chat in the large glass windows as the rest of the world passes by. You spend hours at a time chatting about anything and everything your rather uneventful lives have thrown at you, fingers curled around a sweating glass of flavored iced tea. These breaks are always among the highlights of your year, giving you a chance to wind down and refresh ready for the next group of kids that you will take under your wing.

By the time the summer break winds down though, you’re eager to get back to school and see your dysfunctional work family. There’s nothing you love more than the first day after weeks apart, hearing all about Barbra’s annual cruise with Gerald, or Jacob’s latest mission to get himself “down with the kids” - it usually involves some god awful Tik Tok trend that he should NOT be doing, but you don’t have the heart to stop his rather spirited approach to engaging with his students.

You love these conversations but there is somebody else that you find yourself searching for the second you step foot through the green doors of Abbott; Mellisa Schemmenti. The older woman has become an infatuation for you, her rigid exterior always melting when you interact. She knows exactly how you take your coffee, always leaves a seat open for you during meetings, and takes every opportunity to compliment your appearance - whether it's a new pair of earrings, or a slightly different shade of hair dye, Melissa will always notice.

She makes you feel special in the smallest ways, always leaving you with the hope that she might actually like you back. It feels juvenile and you can’t help but imagine yourself as one of the kids you teach every day, sending heart eyes across the room at each other at any given chance, just waiting for her cheeks to flush and that small, suppressed smile to appear on her glossed lips.

Your crush is no secret, but you would never tell anyone - well, except Janine who had managed to guess exactly why you get so nervous around the older woman after a few glasses of wine at the last faculty holiday party. You didn’t have to say anything; your longing looks toward the redhead on the other side of the teachers’ lounge as you nursed a plastic cup full of cheap alcohol was enough to prompt your friend to ask. You could never lie to Janine’s puppy dog eyes, especially not with a buzz courtesy of the liquor store across the street.

You can’t help but let your thoughts drift toward thick Philly accents as you sit in the gym on the first day of school, squashed between Jacob and Janine and caught directly in the middle of their conversation about whatever new Netflix documentary series dropped last week. You’re really trying to listen, but your thoughts are consumed by bright red curls and glittery lip gloss, not true crime documentaries.

You find yourself scanning the room as the pair babble on and you notice that the seating arrangement is half empty as you wait for the rest of the faculty to arrive and for Ava to take the stage for yet another development week speech that will go down in infamy at Abbott. She’s already poked her head from behind the curtain on the stage twice, clearly impatient to make her grand entrance to a group of less than willing participants.

You begin to hear the telltale sound of heeled boots clicking against the linoleum floor and you feel yourself freezing into place just as Melissa waltzes into the hall, Barbara in tow. You don’t know if you’re impressed or terrified at her ability to constantly wear those shoes and the thought makes you realize that you’ve never actually seen Melissa at her normal height.

Just as you suck in a deep breath, her eyes scan the room and instantly land where you sit, sandwiched between two of your rather enthusiastic co-workers. As her green eyes meet yours you see them shrink at the smile she sends your way, her pearly white teeth cutting through the shiny pink lip gloss she’s always wearing. You send a similar smile back, overjoyed at the fact she merely noticed you. God help your heart rate when she decides to talk to you for the first time in two months.

Your attention is pulled away by Barbara, who waves enthusiastically from behind Melissa, making her way toward the empty seats directly in front of you. Your eyes dart back to Melissa as she follows the billowing of the older woman’s cardigan, heels still impossibly loud against the floor.

The dark button down she’s sporting is tight against her torso, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her deceptively toned forearms. You have to remind yourself to look away for a split second, the thought of getting caught ogling her by one of your co-workers forcing you to tear your eyes away. You look toward Janine who has trailed off her conversation with Jacob, the pair watching you and Melissa like a tennis match. You feel your shoulders slump at Jacob’s knowing look, the excitement practically making him vibrate.

“You’re kidding, you know too?” You sigh.

“Uh yeah, you don’t exactly hide the heart eyes,” he scoffs. He must see the deer-in-headlights expression on your face because he continues, “I wouldn’t worry, she was definitely just throwing them right back at you.”

You have no time to reply as the subject of the conversation reaches the row of seats in front of you, sitting in the hard plastic chair and turning her torso to see you, hand resting on the back of her seat. Her smile is wide again as she looks to you. The panic brews in your throat and your palms instantly become sweaty at the prospect of Melissa feeling the intensity of your feelings.

“Hey hun, it’s been a while,” she says, her eyes still crinkled from the smile she wears. Her focus is entirely on you, ignoring the duo that sits on either of your sides.

“Yeah, it has,” you manage to stammer out, “How’ve you been? You look good.”

You inwardly cringe at your words but you’re not lying. She’s obviously had her hair dyed ready for the new school year and it’s even brighter than usual, making her even easier for you to pick out of a crowd. She looks so full of life and at ease, the break clearly having done her well. Her smile grows impossibly wider at your compliment, putting you instantly at ease.

“It was great,” she replies. “Spent a lotta time at the beach with my family, so I’m not as pasty as you may have remembered.”

She throws a wink your way with the last statement, causing a pink blush to cover your cheeks within seconds. What you wouldn’t give to actually see Melissa at the beach, totally relaxed on a sun lounger with a drink in hand. The image turns your cheeks an even deeper shade of red and Mel clearly catches on, her smirk letting you know that she knows exactly where your thoughts have gone.

Before you even have chance to reply, Ava makes her grand entrance from behind the curtain to a chorus of groans that echos throughout the room.

You can feel Janine’s elbow nudging into your side, your friend having had a front row seat to your entire interaction with the redhead. The action earns her a swift kick to the ankle under her seat, accompanied by a hissed “don’t you dare”.

The meeting is over almost as quickly as it begins, Ava rushing back to her office to catch the latest episode of Real Housewives - she didn’t explicitly say it but you all know that’s the only reason she would be running back down the hall. You won’t complain though because it means you can get started with your work to prepare your classroom for the year ahead. You stand from your seat alongside Jacob and Janine and have all intentions of getting back to work when Melissa turns around again. Her emerald eyes stop you in your tracks, mid-stretch, your arms flexed above your head.

“I never got the chance to tell you earlier, but I really like your dress,” she says, completely catching you off guard. Your hands fall, hanging limply by your side and brushing against the floral fabric of your clothing. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wear it specifically to catch her eye this morning. The soft smile she wears on her face makes your heart melt, the look on her face only reserved for you. “It's real pretty.”

You both stand there for a few seconds, blushing like lovesick teenagers and staring into each other's eyes when a throat clearing brings you back to reality. Janine claps her hands together, flustered by the interaction.

“Okay, I’m gonna get back to my classroom and, uh, get started on cleaning. Have a good day guys!” She calls as she walks away with Jacob in tow, enthusiastic as ever as he throws a thumbs up your way. You know that within five minutes of leaving the school gym she’ll be in your classroom waiting for the rundown on what the hell just happened between you and Melissa, as if she didn’t see it all happen from inches away. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Jacob shows up with a bag of popcorn to join in with the gossip session.

“Oh shit, yeah, I need to clean before Nonna shows up,” Melissa mumbles, “I don’t wanna even think about the earful I’ll get if my classroom is a mess.” She doesn’t even stop to think before she turns on her heel and practically runs out of the gym and down the hall toward her classroom. You don’t have time to process her words before her best friend speaks.

“Well, I guess that just leaves us,” Barbara says from her place next to where the redhead stood. She wears a gentle smile on her face that will always help you feel at ease. She reaches her arm out to you, linking your arm within hers as she turns to walk. “Come on honey, I’ll walk you to your room and tell you all about the cruise I had with my Gerald.”

After a rather lengthy conversation about ‘Sea Barbara’ and her less-than-christian antics, you’re back at your door for the first time in months and can’t help but feel like you’re home. Nobody particularly likes their job but that couldn’t be further from the truth for you. Already, you’ve planned out the next year and can’t wait to welcome your little Eagles back into the classroom.

It’s a full hour later by the time you actually hear another person’s voice - Janine chose to keep her distance but will no doubt grill you about Melissa at some point today. It’s just a matter of when.

You hear the signature clicking of her heels before you can see her, her footsteps considerably slower than usual. You can hear her talking as she walks, though you can’t make you exactly what she’s saying. The footsteps grow louder and slower before you hear a knock against your doorframe, the door propped open by a thick stack of textbooks that you’ve wedged in front of it in a desperate attempt to get some airflow in the stuffy room.

The sound makes you whip your head from where you stand on your stepladder, stapler and crepe paper in hand as you put together a display for the kids. You know exactly who will be standing there, already smiling as you turn and meet her eyes.

“Hey Hun,” she says, “I’ve got someone here who wanted to really meet you.”

For the first time you notice the presence beside her. You don’t need to take any guesses that this is Melissa’s infamous Nonna, the older woman clearly having stamped her grandchildren with her genes - she looks exactly how you imagine Melissa would in her old age, her hair silver and leaning gently on a cane.

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!” she exclaims, making you jump and stand up straighter, terrified at the prospect of already being on her bad side. You climb down from the ladder as she stares at you, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress in an effort to get rid of any creases that may have formed during the morning. “You said she was pretty, but not this pretty!”

You feel your shoulders relax as you laugh at the older woman, taken aback, Melissa by the side of her groaning loudly with a “Nonna, really?” You move toward the pair holding your hand out to shake the wrinkled one of the grey-haired lady before you. Her fingers are adorned by the same kind of jewelry that Melissa wears, her Sicilian heritage extremely clear from the large signet rings that she wears across her hands.

“And there’s no mistaking that you must be Nonna,” you grin, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re like a living legend around here.” She closes her hand around yours, the other still gripping her cane.

“Pretty and complimentary?” She remarks, turning to look at her granddaughter whose face has managed to turn the same colour as her hair. “Well, you kept a lot quiet about this one.”

You can’t help but look at Melissa at this statement, catching her eye and smiling even wider, Nonna’s remarks already making your grin impossibly wide. Her brow relaxes itself slightly, the hard lines around her eyes softening when she sees the pure joy on your face at finally getting to meet the woman you’ve heard so much about over the last few years.

“I’m not sure if I want to hear exactly what you know about me,” you joke to her, catching Melissa’s eye yet again. The poor woman looks unbelievably flustered but it's a welcome change in your dynamic. She usually gets to revel in the fact that you turn into a puddle in her presence, but now you can only hope to add to the quickly darkening hue of her cheeks.

“Trust me, you do. This one doesn’t shut up about you,” she says, smiling slightly and cocking her head toward Melissa who is actively wishing that a sinkhole would open up beneath her feet. She lets go of your hand and moves further into the classroom, leaning ever so slightly on her stick but still moving with all the confidence of your favourite Schemmenti woman - at least you know where Melissa gets it from now.

Your eyes dart to Melissa, the older woman already looking back at you with a silent apology in her eyes her teeth worrying her bottom lip. You reach out and rub the top of her arm over her shirt in a small act of comfort, letting her know that this entire situation is doing nothing but working in her favour.

“Ya know, it’s nice seeing something other than my Melissa’s classroom or the reception desk at this school for once,” Nonna says, almost speaking to herself. She looks around the room almost in awe, taking in the displays in various degrees of completion around the room.

You follow her further in, Melissa hot on your tail behind you. She’s so close that you feel her almost walk straight into your back as you stop closer to the older woman, her once intimidating heels stuttering slightly on the wooden floor.

“So, tell me,” Nonna begins, turning in place to face you, “What brought a girl like you to Philly? I know you’re not a local.” Her eyes twinkle as she asks, and you have a sneaking suspicion that she already knows the answer to her question from the tales her granddaughter has seemingly told her about you.

“I just wanted a change,” you answer honestly. “I only thought I’d be here a couple years, but it’s been five and I can’t see myself leaving any time soon.”

At your statement you hear Melissa sigh by your side. As your head turns to meet her gaze you see just how much it softened at your words. She knows just how much you love your job and the dedication you’re willing to put into making sure these kids make it. Year after year she’s been the one to help you draft lesson plans and mark countless piles of work over a mug of coffee in the teachers’ lounge, helping you when you feel slightly out of your depth in more ways than she could imagine.

It’s only when she’s this close to your face that you can see the glittering of her lip gloss as she smiles slightly, her lips pulled together in a look that conveys so much softness.

“Do you like Italian food?” Nonna asks, breaking the tense silence that has fallen between you. You feel the redhead beside you jump, both of you completely forgetting that her grandmother is just meters away from your little moment. You can’t answer quick enough, crying out for her approval and hoping that you can focus back from the incredible green eyes that are currently burning into the side of your head.

“Oh yeah, I absolutely love an Italian,” you stutter out, “Can’t get enough.”

You inwardly cringe at your words as you hear Melissa snicker by your side, Nonna’s eyes twinkling with amusement again. You hear a quiet “Bedda Matri” from Melissa through the giggles that shake her body.

“I bet ya do,” Nonna says, her grin revealing her impossibly pearly white teeth. You can feel yourself getting warmer and you’re not sure if it’s from the stuffiness of your classroom and its broken windows or from the pure embarrassment radiating through your system. “You know, I taught Melissa everything she knows about Italian food. Maybe if you’re nice she’ll cook for you sometime.”

Nonna’s eyebrows are raised as you turn to meet Melissa’s eyes, the older woman shrugging in your direction. It's nice to know you aren’t the only person completely lost in this conversation.

“Oh, I know!” Nonna exclaims, making the pair of you jump yet again, “Melissa, how about you cook this nice girl the family baked ziti tonight? Say, 7 o’clock?”

“Uh sure, if you don’t have anything on?” Melissa says, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion once again.

“No no, I’m totally free,” you stammer, your cheeks matching the deep red of your co-worker's hair. “I’ve got your address too.”

“Wonderful!” Nonna almost shouts, her shrill voice echoing off the semi-bare walls of your classroom. “You’re going to love it, trust me.” She says, throwing a wink your way.

You don’t particularly want to admit that the smaller woman is, but you do love it. So much so that two years later you’re twirling around a dance floor in a lacy white dress, Melissa in a matching getup and shiny new diamond rings on your left hands. As Billy Joel croons the chorus of ‘Just the Way You Are’ from the speakers set up around the room, you hear a familiar voice chirp up from a table just out of reach of the dance floor.

“You know, they would never have gotten together if I hadn’t practically knocked their heads together,” Nonna says, her voice carrying over the song as she explains her matchmaking services to Melissa’s Uncle Tony. You feel Melissa grin where her cheek rests against yours, your expression matching hers as you hear the older woman carry on. “I’m telling you now Anthony, this wedding wouldn’t even be happening if it wasn’t for me.”

You feel Melissa begin to giggle where she stands, her hands resting against the lace at the small of your back, thumbs rubbing gently against the surface as you sway together. You hear Nonna carry on, adamant that the life you’ve built wouldn’t be possible if not for her, and as much as you don’t want to give her satisfaction, you both know she’s right.

#wlw #self insert #reader fanfic #reader fic #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #writing #fluff #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fic #melissa schemmenti fanfic #lisa ann walter x reader #lisa ann walter fic #melissa schemmenti x y/n

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