punctured tires and sunsets.
jean kirstein x reader, modern a.u. , roadtrip headcanons!
requested by ; @jeanscremebrulee
a/n ; this kinda just turned into an unofficial fic :') i LOVED writing it tho!! thank you so much for the request :D also! there's alot of mentions of jeans music taste in this fic so here's a playlist I made with songs I think he listens to :) I know it's too late to say this but happy jean bday day to you guys <3 he's so find I won't him so bad
warnings ; none!
taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes .
main masterlist ✿ enter my taglist ! ✿
• obnoxious packer. he has ALL the snacks because he has always been used to packing alot of snacks because of...reasons (ahem, sasha) but he also packs alot in general. not in an anxious way, he just likes the volume, it makes him feel like he has everything he needs (he doesn't). he has the most useless shit in there but would 100% forget to pack his underwear.
• best believe he has a really amazing playlist lined up. he asked you to join a collab one a couple days before the trip just so you two could have premium music playing on the day of :)
• I have this headcanon/trope that none of his plans ever go right for him...like he plans stuff to the t but they always end up going awry from the midway mark and this is no exception. the plan was to reach his mother's houss by dinner time, so that the two of you + his mom could unwind with a glass of wine before going to bed after a hearty dinner that jean was sure she was planning to make for you both. while on the way to her place though, there's a really pretty beach that jean has been wanting to show you ever since the beginning, so the two of you would make a pitstop just around sunset time so that the weather wouldn't be too hot and you'd get to see the pretty sky with him, you'd spend a bit of time there, and after the sun sets, you'd resume driving. his mom's house wasn't that far from there, thankfully, so it would've taken an hour or less to reach.
• things actually are surprisingly going according to plan!! until the tire punctures and you two have to wait for help to arrive. thankfully it's only noon at this point, and jean thinks you'll still be able to make it to the beach and see the sunset after getting help. and you're also helping him maintain his cool by telling him that it's not as if you're on a time sensitive mission or anything; you two can take your time since you're just going to meet his mom for the long weekend
• it does help him quite a bit!! the road is extremely empty since it's not one that's taken often, people usually take the highway too much resulting in traffic, but this road is direct and jean discovered it his first year of college
• so you wait :) everytime jean calls the mechanic, he tells him there's been a "delay", and someone will be there shortly. meanwhile, you two share the sandwiches you had packed and decide to spend the time talking and playing some music. the sandwiches are balanced on the front of his car over a picnic blanket, along with some redbull and your prefered drink that he had packed for the way.
• he has a mouthful of sandwich when you're telling him a funny story about your childhood friends, and he chokes on the sandwich as he tries to not laugh. you have to pat his back in between laughs of your own so that he doesn't inhale the food and die.
• the playlist plays on a loop, the weather is surprisingly not too hot, with the occasional wind blowing in your face reminding you that nature isnt that cruel. the two of you add more songs and you have to surpress a smirk when you add like,,, 2000's pop songs. lady gaga, taylor Swift's older songs, Katy Perry, imagine dragons, all that
• jean, on the other hand, adds songs that he wants to slow dance with you to. everytime he tries to be romantic at home and pull you in for a dance, you two are reminded how cramped the room is, and you have to try not to step on his feet. the last time the two of you tried to dance together in your living room, he ended up stubbing his toe and falling on you because of it :') and then he tried to brush it off by saying that that was his plan from the beginning, and it resulted to a week's worth of teasing from you everytime he tried to walk near the same table
• so now that you have all of this empty space, he adds cute cheesy songs with the intention of pulling you in, disregarding your complaints of you not knowing how to dance.
• it's a nice mix of songs that make you want to twerk and/or reminisce the times the songs you added were popular, and slow dancing with giggles in between. both of you get to do what you want in the end, the playlist being put on shuffle.
• jean and you scream sing hot n cold by Katy Perry, shouting in eachother's faces as if you're an old married couple bickering, acting out the music video in some bits. and then after the song finishes, the next song just so happens to be more than a woman by the bee gees (ofcourse)
• let me set the scene : the two of you are holding your drinks in your hand, taking a sip after singing the song to eachother, laughing, he takes a sip of his redbull that he has to stop himself from wincing because of it being warm and not chilled. and then more than a woman comes on, and his eyes light up mid-sip as he turns to face you almost immediately. you do the same, you brows shooting up and a knowing look on your face.
• "you know the rules,* he says, placing the redbull on the car, taking your hand in his and pulling you in softly. "of I step on your toe, it-" " you won't. spin," he says, pulling apart from you a little so you had the space to do it. he tells you about how his mother used to play this song every Sunday while making pancakes for him on slow mornings, and she'd make a passing comment about how she'd have loved to dance to the song on her wedding day if she had the chance. jean told you that he had made a mental promise that he would dance with his future partner on his wedding day to the song, and it only added to his love for the song.
• you had to refrain yourself from kissing him senseless after he told you about it, instead opting for a hum with a wide and soft smile, resting your forehead on the crook of his shoulder.
• ANYWAY, the two of your spend the time like that, dancing and talking while the music plays in the background. the hours pass by fairly easily, munching on the snacks you had packed
• jean does get a little ansty near the 6 o clock mark. not only had the mechanic promised to be here by now, the time to reach the beach was running out :( he'd already called his mom and told her that they probably wouldnt make it in time for dinner, so somewhere deep down he kinda knew that you two wouldn't be able to catch the sunset anyway.
• noticing his disappointment, you spoke up after he called his mother. she understood, of course, told him it was fine and she'd wait up for you two anyway, with the same meal she had planned.
• "we still have the blankets we packed for the picnic. and the pillows, too." you say. jean sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "i know, I'm sorry, we had to pack that for no reas-" "no, I mean, we can pop open the trunk and set it up. the sun is going to set on this side," you say, pointing your thumb out, taking a step towards him and taking a hold of his hand, rubbing circles on the back of his palm. "we can still watch the sunset. i know its not what you wanted to show me, but it's alright, I don't mind. i got to spend time with you, anyway, and besides, we can try to catch it while coming back home." you tell him.
• his shoulder relax and his eyes soften immediately, pecking your lips and agreeing with you. and so it's settled; you two open the trunk and set up the blanket and pillows so you could sit comfortably, your phone playing the songs still, albeit softly. you pop open another energy drink for him and then one for yourself, he stretches his limbs before settling in with you.
• it's beautiful. the sun sets with your head on his shoulder and his pride is too inflated to admit that this was far prettier than watching the same scene at the beach, although he knows it's mostly because of you being there with him. he occasionally lays kisses on the crown of your head with you humming along to the songs.
• the mechanic arrives just as it starts getting dark, before too much panic settling in the both of you about the lack of light. he replaces the tire, jean pays (obviously he does), and you two continue driving. thankfully, it's not that bad, and despite the caffeine in your body, you doze home with the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest.
• jean glances at you from time to time, and everytime a song he knows you'd like comes on, he gently kisses the back of your hand :)
• you two reach far later than expected, he has to wake you up softly, greeting you with a kiss. he doesn't let you touch any of the luggage, preferring to haul the bag himself. not that it's hard for him. after eating the meal his mother made, he promptly falls asleep on the couch as you and his mom talk with the promised glass of wine on the floor.
(his mother leaves to get the bottle for a refill, coming back to your eyes closed, your back against the couch, your face turned towards jean. she obviously takes a picture to put in her photo album.)
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Banging my head into the wall would fix me I think
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Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!
shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug
Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him.
Plus, you’re awfully shy.
Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days.
But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea.
“What flavour do you have today?” he asks.
You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle.
Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight.
“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?”
You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask.
“Three, two, one.”
You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy.
He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him.
“What?” he asks, perturbed.
“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.”
He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option.
It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again.
“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?”
“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.”
“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.”
You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret.
Spencer waits.
“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out.
“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised.
“If that’s okay.”
“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.”
“Really?”
He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder.
You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him.
“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly.
“You don’t like touching.”
“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.”
“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh.
Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?”
“You’re really warm,” you murmur back.
Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”
“Or you’re just really, really warm.”
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Diluc, Thoma, Pantalone, Thighnari, Neuvillette and Zhongli telling reader they need them more then they need to breathe while they're kissing? I know it's a cliche but it sound very romantic.
Yeah, but see Anon, I love romantic cliches. So feel free to request them.
Pairing: Diluc, Thoma, Pantalone, Tighnari, Neuvillette, Zhongli x Reader
Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, showing affection, sitting in their lap, neck kissing, playful biting, tail shenanigans
A/N: I used to hate romantic cliches but now I think they're ok, as long as they don't all happen shortly one after the other.
Diluc has to be a little tipsy for him to say something like this. He can be romantic when he needs to be for sure, but he shows it a lot more when he's had a bit to drink, it makes him let his guard down, he becomes bolder. The kisses aren't demanding but he kisses you lots of times fast and when you ask him why he tells you he needs to keep kissing you more the needs to breathe.
Thoma doesn't care how cliché he sounds when he says it because it's the truth. To have you in his arms, kissing you, lips swollen from the act is one of his favorite sights in the world. You have to tell him that his line is a little silly which he doesn't agree with. It got a laugh out of you didn't it? Then it was worth it. And hopefully it was worth a few more kisses for him, if not he has more lines.
Pantalone is completely serious when he says it. Trust him, he of all people is aware how stupid it sounds, of course he needs to breathe but he will gladly trade some of that for kissing you. He can be a hopeless romantic every once in a while, he can tease you all he wants and when you're in his lap like this, his hands firm on the small of your back you have no choice but to endure him and his teasing.
Tighnari regrets saying it immediately, as soon as the words leave his mouth he's hiding his face in your neck, ears flat against his head. His tail is no longer moving, instead being completely still from his own embarrassment. When you begin laughing he bites your neck in retaliation but it doesn't make you stop, it makes you laugh even harder. His words were cute, you love kissing him too, there's no need for embarrassment.
Neuvillette means it wholeheartedly when he says it. There's no doubt in his mind that he would kiss you every minute of the day if he could. Just don't tell anyone he said that, he has a reputation to uphold here. Well... that really depends on him, he is asking you to lie on his behalf, for that he might need to bribe you with something. That doesn't sound like something an upholder of justice should do but he's always bent the rules for you. Do you accept it in kisses?
Zhongli only said it because he heard it from other humans. Logically it would make no sense. He can go without breathing a lot longer than you can so you would pass out by the time he pulls away. It seems like he didn't understand that people don't mean that literally. Oh... well he did, if he could, or if you could he would keep kissing you for the rest of eternity, only stopping for very short periods of time.
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Hello! I love your writing, it's so cute! Here's an Idea bouncing around in my head: Reader is a shy and easily flustered individual who's developed a crush on Alastor. However they try to keep their distance as they know he's Aro/Ace and doesn't want to overstep boundaries. They go to Lucifer a (somewhat) expert on romance and feelings of longing to vent, also developing a crush on Lucifer- (Reader is a hopeless romantic lol)
Anyway, hope you have a nice day and remember to drink water!
|| The Price of Love || Alastor x Reader x Lucifer
tags: gn!sinner!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, love triangle, miscommunication, blood/injuries, mild nudity mention, divorced!Luci, I had to make it a bit comical, I made this too angsty for my own liking now I'm sad 😭, protective bois
This is a one shot. I won't be writing a part two. Thank you! :)
A dreamy sigh echoes from your lips, swirling down the empty hallway. You're sitting on your bed with your knees pulled to your chest with a clawed hand over your heart. Sometimes you miss the thrum of your heartbeat against your fingers. With all of the people occupying Hell, you didn't expect to feel quite this lonely.
You stare down at the pocket watch in your hands. Such a tiny device cost quite a fortune, but it was a true antique having been manufactured in the 1920s. Your intention was to give it to Alastor. Yet, you never did.
Despite everything in your being wanting you to give him the simple gift, a token of your love and your friendship, you just couldn't. You were already internally setting yourself up for a failure that may not even come. You weren't sure Alastor would ever be into someone, let alone you. So, allowing these thoughts to fester you withdrew yourself from him. Forcing smiles when around him and the others, faking laughter; all of which Alastor could see right through. Every time he tried to seek you out, to confront you, you were already engaged with someone else or another task for the hotel.
You were actively allowing your depression to swallow you whole all the whole not realizing that if you had only asked, Alastor's feelings are the same as yours. He just didn't know how to approach you and Rosie thought it best to let you come to him; yet you never did. Even Alastor was finding it a bit hard to keep that smile on his face. Why won't you just approach him? He...He can't do it. Please.
A dreary day in Hell with violent lightning and thunderclouds and acidic rain brought you into the company of Lucifer Morningstar himself. He could smell your sadness from miles away and like clockwork, he instantly pulls you under his wings.
"Now then, sweetling, what brings you to see the Big Boss Man Himself?" Lucifer grins, crossing his leg over his knee nursing an apple martini with an apple slice hanging off the sugar-dusted edge. He serves you whatever drink you may like, alcoholic or non-alcoholic.
"I'm in love with Alastor and I don't know what to do! I'm scared to get too close to him because I'm not even sure he's into me like that and I don't want to get hurt!" You sob, the words come pooling out of your mouth like a waterfall and so do the tears.
Lucifer visibly bristles at the mention of his rival, almost choking on his drink. With a snap of his fingers, his martini glass vanishes with a poof! His full attention now on you. Gently, he takes your hand in his gloved one.
Softly, he begins. "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real. It's not the end of the world, not by a long shot. Everyone who we meet and who we love crosses our paths for a reason. To teach us something, either for a short chapter or they'll be lifelong companions. Even in the afterlife, there are still people worth risking the hurt for." Smiling wobbly, Lucifer embraces you close. "Take a few deep breaths. If this is truly how you feel, talk to him about it. We may be magic down here in Hell but not all of us are mind-readers, darlin'."
For the first time in a long while, you smile too. Embracing him again with a laugh.
Standing to leave, you turn to your friend. "May I see you again?"
Lucifer let out a tiny gasp, a slight pink hue coating his cheeks. "I'd like that a lot!" He jumps up. "I can show you how to paint rubber ducks!"
When you finally return from your outing, you're in a much more visibly happy mood. With eyebrows raised, Alastor watches from the shadows as you whistle a happy little tune and make your way up the stairs and veer to the left towards your bedroom. A familiar scent clings to your own, one that makes his lips curl back in a vicious snarl. Lucifer.
"Now darling, I think it's time that we have a talk--" Alastor materializes from the shadows, fully manifesting into your bedroom. You shriek in surprise.
Immediately, you snap. "Alastor, what the fuck! OUT."
Alastor, who has been turned away from you, spins to face you aghast that you'd speak to him in such a manner as you never have before, only to quickly cover his eyes. You were standing in the privacy of your bedroom, almost entirely naked except for those flimsy bottoms you called your underwear. Alastor swallows thickly at the sight of your bare skin, even when you wrap your blanket around your body. He feels lightheaded.
"My apologies, dearest. Ta-ta!" In a plume of smoke, Alastor fades out of the room. By the time he returns to his radio tower, he's gasping with his palm covering his face which was now nearly as red as his hair. He's ashamed he hadn't shown more decorum and instead witnessed you in such a state. Even when angry with him, you had never looked more alluring.
Lucifer swung by the hotel rather unexpectedly, surprising Charlie with a new plant for her bedroom and crushing Maggie into a huge hug! The place was really coming along, he had to admit. There was a more inviting atmosphere to the hotel now since it was rebuilt. It almost felt cozy.
"Dad, what brings you by?" Charlie smiles, carefully handing the plant over to Vaggie.
Lucifer smiles. "I'm here to pick up a friend for a little coffee date and I figured I'd say hi to my favorite daughter and my favorite soon-to-be daughter-in-law!" He coos, squishing Charlie's cheeks between his gloved hands.
On queue, you're walking down the stairs into the foyer. "Lucifer!" You beam, a large smile crossing your cheeks. His tummy flutters at the sight. The outfit you had on was darling, suiting you to a T.
A crackle of static explodes into the front lobby, the Radio Demon taking form between you and the Morningstars. Alastor's eyes immediately narrowing at the unwelcomed guest, at least in his mind.
Laughing nervously, Charlie wedges herself between her father and friend. The air rippled with electricity as the two stared the other down.
"Okay, you two, calm down. Let's not start anything, ok?" She glances at Vaggie for help who simply shrugs her shoulders; setting Charlie's new plant baby aside. Approaching slowly you stand by Lucifer's side. Placing a hand on the King's shoulder, Alastor nearly explodes with radio feedback. An eerie green glow consuming his form.
Static voice dripping with malice spits out, "You're going out with him." It wasn't a question.
Casting a look over your shoulder, you nod at Alastor. "We're going out for coffee."
The Radio Demon is practically seething with venomous rage--not at you, but at the puny little shortstack of a King who thinks he can meddle with those in his life. "You don't deserve their attention, Morningstar."
Lucifer balks. "You had your chance, pal! You snooze, you lose." Alastor's expression turns to one of confusion.
"What do you mean?" The radio filter is gone from his voice.
Snarling, Lucifer glowers at him. "They were in love with you! And now I'm here to pick up the pieces-- oh, fuck, you didn't tell him did you, sweetling?" His gaze is gentle as he regards you. You're begging for the ground to swallow you up.
Fighting back tears, you fidget on the spot. You're looking everywhere but at the two men who have held your heart captive. There was the love you held for Alastor, pure and genuine. How you got together like pieces of a puzzle. And then there was your love for Lucifer, intimate and loving. He was able to teach a part of you that you'd long forgotten. He helped you smile again.
Alastor shoves Lucifer out of the way, his clawed hands cupping your face. He wipes away those tiny tears with a gentleness no one in the hotel had seen. "Je t'aime tellement, mon cour."
Lucifer, now in his Full Demon form, shoves Alastor aside and grasps your arm. You let out a cry of pain, making the two males jump. With the appearance of his full form his claws had accidentally sunk too deep into your skin. Red leaked from the four deep gashes slashed across your skin, staining the sleeve of your lovely shirt. Your pretty eyes pooling with tears.
Like a true beast, Alastor explodes into his demonic form, arms outstretched to shield you behind him. Lucifer can only fixate on the blood dripping down your arm. Vaggie and Charlie are tugging you away while Husk prepares the First-Aid kit.
Lucifer is only able to stare at the tiny pool of blood you had left behind and the pain in his eyes. And then there was Alastor, ever the gentleman, always the one fighting for your honor, looking damn well ready to devour the entire fucking Earth for you.
And Lucifer felt he deserved whatever he had coming to him. His own words echo in his head: "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real."
|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024
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Seeking Advice
Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Oral (fem receiving), Cum eating, Horn pulling?.
Summary: Asking out your crush can be difficult, Maybe you should seek advice from your friends on how to ask out your favorite wizard?
A/N: Look...I've been playing a lot of Baldur's Gate 3. Then this guy yelled at me and I fell. I have a thing for grumpy guys what can I say. Now do not worry! I still am writing for ATSV, TASM!Peter and my love Miguel, just I think I can squeeze the bg3 fandom on my blog. Trust I have plans for for all my fictional men. Plus I am working on request! Just had to get this story out, it was rotting my brain. Hope you enjoy it! Its kinda cheesy but its what I like, sorry.
Word Count: 6,957
The energy to the tavern is a welcomed one, All the noise you might have found irritating at a time is now a pleasant chime to your ears. How things can so easily change with time. Since becoming the city's hero many things have changed for you and your friends. The city is back to its wondrous glory. Finally, your life is starting to calm down, well for the most part…
There is no longer a squirming in your head and the threats to the world's damnation are at the time eased, things should be perfect, and you should be happy riding an inexplicable high. You are happy for the most part, however there is just one thing that is causing you trouble now. It's the ache that swirls within you that only grows when you see him, the now master of Ramazith’s Tower, Rolan.
The first time you felt it, it was simply a spark, harmless. It didn’t turn into this thrumming storm until the grove celebration after you defeated the goblin camp, and where he taught you his light spell. That night your fate was sealed, now as your friendship has grown you feel those glittering sparks storming through you more often.
With a sigh, you rest your hazy head in your palm as you watch him with his siblings. The amber lights of Elfsong make his crimson skin appear as if it's glowing, he looks good in any lighting with his striking features but at this moment he looks damn near ethereal. You're acutely aware that you are staring at the trio, but in your buzzed haze from four wine goblets, you can not bring yourself to care. People are properly catching you staring like a lovesick fool; you will move your eyes eventually, you just want to watch for a bit longer.
Rolan's journey to the city was different than yours but it was not without its hurdles, then when he got here he had to be met with the cruelty of Lorroakan. You won’t lie, you felt immense pleasure watching his spine get cracked in two for what he had done. Now with that horror over, the scars have faded and you see that Rolan is better, happier. He smiles just a bit wider and his eyes shine just a tad bit brighter. It only makes sense that the Tower and Sundries have become more successful with his influence, though you know he’s just happy that his family is now together and safe.
Blindly you bring the metal goblet to your lips and taste the tang of the red wine nursing you through your pinning. The drink was meant to boost your confidence to go over there and shoot your shot for a date, but it only makes your head cloud into hopeless romantics. Why can’t you just ask him out? You can take on a horde of knols but you can’t bring yourself to confess to the guy you like? Doesn't get more pathetic than that…
Your eyes stay fixed on Rolan as he smirks and rolls his eyes at what Cal is saying, his clawed hand grabs his goblet and you watch as he brings the drink to his lips. Feeling looser from drinking you see as the red wine slightly escapes the side of his lips as he chugs the drink down. The deep red rolls down his jaw and you have to bite your lip from the thoughts that erupt in your mind.
“Darling, you have got to stop staring.”
With a sigh, you turn your head to your pale companion with a devilish smile on his face. With a roll to your eyes, you take another drink of your wine trying your best to play unbothered by Astarion as you can.
“I wasn’t staring”
“Tav, let's not be coy, you haven’t moved your eyes from a particular wizard since he strolled in. Sighing and squeezing your thighs together like that's going to help your ache.”
The mentioning of the actions you thought were unnoticed makes your face blush from embarrassment. Asterion can only laugh at your fluster features as you look around the crowded tavern to see hints if others have noticed.
“I- wasn’t, you don’t-”
“Don’t be embarrassed, you could pick far worse. He’s a bit pompous for my taste, but the innocent little freckles on his face are pretty intriguing.”
Astarion gives you a smirk as you whip your head to face him giving him a look of ‘back off’, though he is hardly intimated by you.
“Relax, I am not going to take a bite out of your favorite wizard. I will leave that pleasure for you, however some advice, you won’t get him from just staring.”
You hate to admit it but Astarion might have a point, you have been wanting to confess your feelings you just don’t know how. Looking at Rolan you rake your mind with your past chances to open yourself up but always seem to back out at the last moment, his rejecting you would be painful but being in this limbo is excruciating. You have to get your feelings off your chest for some inner peace.
“Okay, Astarion…what's your advice?”
Astarion's smile spreads to his lips and he sits next to you quickly, “My suggestion is you make it your mission to get that Rolan in your sheets, my dear. You obviously have had trouble getting your…” Astarion grimaces “Feelings for him out, so why not go the seductive approach?”
You let out a laugh but Astarion just keeps his face neutral, “You think, I should seduce him? How am I supposed to do that?”
“Simple, give him an offer he can’t refuse.”
“Yeah like what?”
Astarion looks over at Rolan, seeming to think before his face lights up, he quickly wraps his arm around your shoulder moving your chin to face Rolan. Then he whispers in your ear, “You're going to go over to him, very calmly…place your hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear very sweetly that you want to lick every ridge on his body.”
Your mouth goes dry and eyes go wide at the thought…running your tongue…down…his… You blush feeling your face grow hot, so hot you think it could be radiating off you.
“A-Astarion…I-I can’t do that…”
“Oh, but picture it, once you're done he will be so spent he will be the one confessing to you.”
An image of a panting Rolan looking down at you with a fist full of your hair sparks in your mind. Hells, maybe Astarion has a point…he has had plenty of experience seducing people, but you? The thought only makes it so you can’t even move. Astartion picks up on your dazed state and with a nudge he pops you from it.
“Lucky for you there's a creature in here I have had my eyes on, so just watch and learn,”
“Wait, you like someone?” You say it a bit shocked,
Astarion gives you a look, “Focus on your own love life, huh?”
With that, you say quite as you watch Astarion's ruby eyes land on a particularly pretty patron. With a smirk, he grabs your goblet keeping his eyes fixed on them like a predator studying its prey. Quickly downing your drink he releases a cool and steady breath then makes his approach. He practically glides across the room to them, very carefully he starts the conversation with a smile and you can already tell the person is interested. Do they know each other?
In What seems like a quick second he is placing his hand on their shoulder and leaning down to their ear. You can only imagine what he must be saying to have their faces fluster so quickly. Nobody quite had a way with words like him. Astarion leans back up to meet their eyes where they are feverishly nodding.
With that, he starts guiding them to the exit while turning back towards you to smirk. Well, looks like it's your turn…
Picking up your goblet you see he did finish it, okay next step. Standing you feel all the alcohol you consumed immediately go to your head, deep breath, then go. Making your way over you try to not stumble into people as you push to your destination. Keeping your eyes on Rolan you rehearse the lines in your head over and over, as you get closer.
Rolan almost like he can sense it then flicks his eyes to you, watching as you approach. Swallowing to ease your dry throat as you continue to make your way over still keeping your nerves despite your stomach being in knots. Then his lips curl into a slight smile and you freeze…shit…looking down at your hands reality hits you suddenly, you're drunk and about to proposition him, you can’t do this…he is just going to dismiss you… the thought makes your chest ache and the feeling of your drink coming back up.
Looking back at him he tilts his head looking at you concerned smile fading and that's when the fear of rejection rushes you. Opening your mouth you go to say anything, maybe smile at him something to mask your panic but it fails. Your lips tremble and before you know it you're rushing to the exit.
Finding the exit you look back to Rolan, he’s up from his table and seems to be trying to make his way toward you, he looks completely confused and maybe…hurt. You can’t do this…not when you're drunk and on the verge of puking.
With that, you're pushing out of the tavern and running off into the cool night of the city. As you're running past one of the city's allies you catch in your peripherals Astarion with that person pinned against the wall as he kisses against their neck leaving them moaning into his hand. You must have caught his attention from your running, he looks at your fleeing figure and calls out to you.
“I guess it didn’t go well?”
You don’t bother to give him a response, his advice might have worked for him but you're going to have to try a different tactic.
Note to self, do not try to drunkenly ask out your crushes, it only ends in you making an ass out of yourself and puking up all your stomach contents. Thinking back on it you can only think back on the look on Rolan's face…the confusion…the disappointment…Maybe you should go talk to him? You don’t want him to think that you're trying to ignore him. You were drunk and didn’t want to spill your guts all over him. Feeling freshly invigorated you decide that you should apologize for running off. Who knows maybe the conversion could lead to something.
Arriving at Sorcerous Sundries you're not even fully sure if he would even be there, the tower might have been the better bet. However, your guess is shown to be a good one when you see Rolan placing some tomes on the shelves. Gods, you could watch him work for hours…his dexterous hands placing everything so carefully. As you watch you think you almost see his tail wag before he’s fixing it down. The smile it causes to your face can’t be helped, though he is always so composed he still slips at times.
As you watch Rolan work you have the oddest sensation come over you that you too are being watched. Turning your head you jerk back slightly in surprise seeing that Lae’zel’s yellow eyes are piercing into you with her trademark intensity. It’s quite odd that she is in here, she's not one for spells but as you're looking past her you see that Shadowheart is with her thumbing through a tome. That makes more sense, you're happy those two have become better friends. Especially since they did try and kill each other.
Smiling you give Lae’zel a smile with a wave, she only narrows her eyes more at you as you move to go talk to Rolan. Approaching his tall figure you're taking in every inch of him.
He's beautiful, from face to physique, you watch as the muscles from underneath his robes flex from his movements. It’s funny wizards are not known for their strong builds but Rolan's arms and back are a dead giveaway to his hidden strength. Looking up you trace down the length of his horns to where they disappear into his soft chestnut hair, twisted in that half-up style. You wonder if you two get closer in the way you hope he will let you play with his hair, it appears so tantalizing and soft…everything about him is tantalizing…
In your approach your mind is running through a quick daydream of running your fingers along his horns and through his hair; it causes you not to pay attention to where you are stepping. With the perfect explanation for the night at Elfsong in your mind, you're ready to smooth things over with him. Just as you're reaching out you suddenly see Rolan's shoulders shoot up teasing like something just hit him. Confused you lean forward more but that's when you feel it, something is wiggling under your foot.
Looking down you see that your boot is crushing his poor tail underneath your weight. Mortified, you quickly step off of it. Karlach had told you how sensitive her tail was when she yelped when someone sat on it, so having it crushed underneath a boot sure is not a great feeling. Rolan's back stays teased as he turns slowly, his tail swiftly moving away from you to go to his hands. His eyes look as if he could thunder wave you out of the building.
“I-I am so sorry Rolan, I- I didn’t see your tail.” you ramble out as quickly as possible
“How do you not see the appendage handed down from my-!” Rolan stops his yelling and takes a breath, his hands tightening on his tail. There is now a mark from where you stepped and you feel even worse.
“Here let me-” Reaching out for his tail you are quickly stopped by Rolan holding up his hand and shaking his head. Rolan tail in hands starts walking away mumbling a language you don’t know.
“I’m sorry!” You call out to his fleeing figure as he ascends the stairs.
Running your hands down your face, your intentions of apologizing to him for Elfsong completely disappear as you make yourself look like a complete ass again to him. Looking through your fingers you see that not only is Lae’zel still staring at you but now Shadowheart has joined her in watching your screw-up. You make your way over to them with your head down silently standing with them as Shadowheart keeps at her browsing.
After a couple of moments, you see Rolan coming back down to the shop, his eyes meet yours. A part of you thinks you should go back over to him and apologize but you don’t want to annoy him further so you give him an apologetic wave. Rolan just huffs slightly with a nod before turning his back to you to get back to work. Leaning against the shelved wall you let out a long sigh.
“What am I going to do…”
“You mean about your crush on the new master of the tower?”
You turn your head to stare at Shadowheart for her comment but she doesn’t even bother lifting her eyes away from the spines of the tomes.
“How…what…”
Lae’zel cuts in “Your lusting is obvious, sighing with your head in the sky with your pathetic pinning,” -wow ouch…
A stray giggle leaves Shadowheart and you're quick to narrow your eyes at her as she bites her lip to silence herself. Crossing your arms you look back at Lae’zel
“I am probably going to regret this, but Lae’zel what is your advice? How should I go about asking Rolan out then?”
The question is intriguing enough to make Shadowheart put her tome down and look at Lae’zel as well. Lae’zel rolls her eyes for a second before folding her arms and moving her fierce gaze to where Rolan is now helping out a customer. Lae’zel eyes narrow at him, sizing him up as she studies him before she turns back to you with a huff.
“I would not ask, I would grab that teeth-ling by the horns and command him to do as I say.” The direct advice makes Shadowheart burst into laughter drawing attention from people near you, though you can’t seem to meet their eyes because you're too busy giving Lae’zel a confused look.
“I don’t think that would work with him…”
“Tis’k, you do not know this unless you try. Now go grab him by the tail and mount him forming a flesh bond with your desired.”
You're staring at Lae’zel gobsmacked while Shadowheart practically rolls on the floor with laughter.
“Lae’zel! I can’t just mount him!” you whisper yell at her.
“I don’t know, she might have something to the direct approach” Shadowheart soothes
You glare at her “Oh you're done laughing on the floor?” She smirks with a shrug, absolutely no help.
“Fine, I will gather him for you.” -what?
Lae’zel starts going towards Rolan but you are quick to grab her and drag her out. As the puzzled patrons watch you carry out the githyanki fighter cussing you in her native tongue with Shadowheart trailing behind you, smirk on her face. You try to rush out as quickly as you can mortified that Rolan might be seeing the display.
Once outside you put her down with an apology, Shadowheart quickly places a hand on Lae’zel’s shoulder to prevent her from cutting off your head. “Why not try talking to the guys for advice? Maybe they can give you the male perspective on things.” Shadowheart offers.
Thinking for a moment you find that she might have a point, it might help to ask the guys for some advice.
Piercing your lips you study the smiling wizard in front of you waiting for your question.
“Actually Gale I don’t know if I should ask you for advice on this.”
Gale's face changes from a smile into hurt then moves to irritation, “Wh- and why not?” he practically huffs.
“Because the last time you tried to get a person to like you you ended up with a bomb in your chest.”
“Magic orb…” he mutters while Wyll laughs, nearly choking on his wine.
“Okay, Tav what advice are you needing? We can try our best to help aid you.” Wyll smooths out the tension of the room.
“Well…the thing is I need some advice on asking someone out. I figured our most intelligent and most charismatic party members would have some great advice.”
Wyll and Gale look at each other like they can detect each other's thoughts before they turn back to you “You're talking about asking out Rolan aren't you?”
You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at the duo, “Who told you I was coming?”
“Astarion and Shadowheart, they sang like canaries. Told us about your ...Mishaps” Gale says somewhat sing-songy.
Sure he might have gotten a bomb in his chest but at least he got some for the goddess… And Wyll Mr. Prince Charming, half the girls in the city who were in love with him and his fancy footwork. Hopefully, they will have some good advice. You watch as the two men start pacing along rubbing their chins deep in thought. You appreciate they are taking this so seriously for your sake.
“So have you at least tried? Asking him out? I know you two are pals but have you ever eluded to it.”
You give Wyll an unamused look “Yeah I tried, but then something horrid goes wrong, I’m either stepping on his tail or about to puke.”
Wyll nods trying to understand, “Maybe you could try to do an action, like an impromptu dance at the tavern between friends? The music is plentiful, and as you two sway along the music you can tell him with your eyes.”
You watch as Wyll mimics the swaying of a dance keeping intense eye contact with you, but Gale comes behind him and places a hand on his shoulder stopping him. “Don’t think that will work with Rolan, he's….kinda dense…”
Gale then lights up with the idea, “Why not ask him for some magic lessons? He can show you the ways of the weave and as you two flow through it, you can send him your thoughts.”
You think for a moment, you have had him teach you magic before but…that was at the grove…and things were different. You hold that memory when he taught you his trick dear and you're about to agree to it. But you stop…if Rolan rejects you during that…it would ruin that spell for you forever…
“Yeah…he's a strict teacher…can we think of something else…Something that can explain how I feel but I don’t have to choke over the words too.”
Gale and Wyll sit and think for a minute, then Wyll is snapping his fingers with an idea, “Why don’t you write him a letter!”
You look at Wyll a bit skeptical, “A letter?”
“Now that's the way to a wizard's heart, through the written word. Grand idea Wyll! Plus that helps with your shyness you can just hand him the letter! No conversion required!” Gale praises.
You think for a moment, writing isn’t exactly your thing but it might be your only option left. Plus you're sure Gale and Wyll will help you through it! With a nod, you give them the okay and Gale is already conjuring up some paper and quill. They sit themselves on both sides of you and help you get through your thoughts. You thought it would be best to keep some more private feelings to yourself. They both seemed to be rather…really into letter writing, Gale helped fill the letter with praise of Rolan's grandeur with magic. While Wyll helps you spruce it up with flourishes about how your heart dances for him. It turned out a bit cheesy but Wyll and Gale seemed to have a good time. Maybe they should start a poetry club?
Letter in hand you pace outside the shop, the letter was a great idea when Gale and Wyll were helping you write it but now… Now that you're here to give it to Rolan you're finding that familiar nervousness is eating away at you again. Peeking through the door you see that Rolan isn’t in the shop. It just seems to be his hologram today…Perfect! Now all you have to do is place it on the front desk for him to find later. That way if he isn’t into it you won’t have to meet his rejection immediately. The thought of Rolan looking at the letter and frowning pops into your mind, but you shake it off. Just place it down…easy…
“Tav! Hey!��
Pausing you Turn around and see Karlach running towards you waving with a huge smile on her face. This is not good… It's not that you don’t want to see Karlach, she is amazing and you two have become incredibly close. The reason that this isn’t good is that Karlach isn’t exactly…subtle… Karlach is a complete badass but when it comes to love and romance she is a complete softie gushing about it to everyone. Wyll had told her about a crush of his one time and she had gushed about the story to anyone who would listen. It’s truly sweet that she loves love so much and gushes about her friends' conquest, but you're trying to be subtle here, placing the letter then leaving quickly, if Karlach finds out about it she's going to give you being here away.
“Hello soldier, what are you doing loitering around Sundries? Waiting for someone?”
“Oh, no no…I just have this letter to give Rolan.”
“Oh! What's it about?”
“Just some questions about…spells…and curses…if he can detect the traces of the magical…What are you doing?” you quickly change the subject not being able to think of a good lie.
“I was just at the Forge of the Nine catching up with Dammon, I had found some good iron ingots and wanted to give them to him, he could use them more than me anyways…” -oh Karlach you cutie
Karlach looks into sundries and appears to be looking around a bit, her smile slowly dies away before she turns back to you, “Well, I think you're out of luck soldier, Rolan doesn't seem to be around.”
You shrug trying to seem as unfazed as possible, “That's fine, I will just leave it on the front desk.”
“Or you could give it to-”
“No! No the desk will work, I mean…it’s important but he will find it.” you quickly interject.
Karlach looks at you somewhat confused before she shrugs with a smile and follows you in. Finally, through the doorway, you quickly make your way to the desk and you feel…good! Finally one of your plans is going to work and you have Gales and Wyll's advice to thank! Maybe if this all goes well you will treat them to a drink at Elfsong. You will finally get your feelings off your chest, sure…it’s not exactly how you envisioned, but all the other attempts failed, this is easy and mess-free.
Right as you reach the desk, something tells you to look up. Looking up you see Rolan descending the stairs wrapped up in whatever tome he is reading. He hasn’t seemed to notice you however so maybe you can just drop the letter and run-
“Hey Rolan! What udder luck, Tav has a letter for you!” -shit
Rolan looks away from his tome, eyes seeming to widen when he sees you and Karlach. You feel all the blood rush to your face as his eyes meet yours, you can’t quite tell if he is pleased to see you or not, kinda of appears to be…annoyed…or surprised? Damn that handsome studious face!
Your hands tighten on the letter, you go to quickly place it on the desk and rush out but in the blink of an eye, the letter is out of your hand. Instead of it being in your hand or on the desk it's in Karlach’s hand as she is going towards the stairs…to Rolan…going to hand it to him! Oh, hells!
Rushing over to her you quickly snatch the letter from her hand. Karlach seems taken aback by your action, “Hey? What the fuck?”
Karlach tries to take the letter back after you rudely snatched it. “Tav isn’t this for him?”
“Uh…Yeah, but I changed my mind…”
“Changed your mind? But you said it was important?”
Karlach goes to take the letter from you again but this time it is not so easy to take from your hand. Now in the middle of Sundries, you and Karlach are having a tug of war over a letter while Rolan looks at you two trying to piece together what is going on. With some quick moves on your part, you're able to shoulder check Karlach, not knocking her over by any means but just enough to cause her to loosen her hold slightly.
Feeling successful you smile to yourself that you were able to get it back, but when you look back at Karlach your smile fades. Her eyes are narrowed and you see the hints of flames starting to spark around her, she looks pissed and you are about to get it. Looking up you see Rolan at the bottom of the stairs approaching you with a very irritated look, it makes sense you did have a fight in the middle of his shop.
Shoving the letter down your pocket you do the thing that you only seem to know how to do nowadays, run.
“Ohhhh…..so you wrote him a love letter….”
“Yeah…I wanted to just leave it on his desk but…that didn’t work out….”
You and Karlach sit on the stone wall looking out into the city watching the sunset. Of course, when you ran off she chased you down and demanded an explanation. You gave your explanation and that's how you are here now pouring your heart out to her.
“Tav, I think you're going about this all wrong.”
“Oh? How do you figure?”
“Well sure everyone giving their advice is nice but…I think you should just do what feels right to you. Instead of worrying about what he will say just…just stop being so scared and talk to him. Be honest. All these games, and trying to be sneaky isn’t how to do it. ”
You take in her words for a moment before you speak, “So…you're telling me Lae’zel had the best advice? Being direct?”
Karlach laughs “What I am saying is stop being so in your head Tav. Instead of talking to everyone else about this, just go talk to him. I promise it will be best that way.”
“When should I do it?”
Karlach hums then shrugs “Fuck if I know. Maybe it will just hit you.”
A smile spreads to your lips and you nod your head “Thanks Karlach, that...that's some really good advice…”
Karlach smacks your back, basically knocking the air out of you. “Don’t worry I am here for all your relationship advice needs!”
“So, how's Dammon?” you say coyly
“Oh don’t even start.”
Laying in bed you think about all the advice your friends gave you and how all the advice had turned out. Why does this have to be so hard….
Looking outside you see how late it is, people all around are either asleep or going home to rest but as you lay you listen to the stillness of the city. Then your thoughts go back to Rolan. How you ache to be held in his arms…to get to look into those golden eyes on a dark still night like this. To talk to him about everything and nothing as his fingers gently caress your skin. You know you would so easily melt under his touch. How it would comfort you, how you want to comfort him.
Rising from your warm bed you go to look out into the night of the city. With a click, you open the window and are met with the shivering cold of the night. A chill runs through you as you lean out and admire the star-dusted sky. For some reason, your thoughts go back to the night of the grove celebration. Rolan was being teased by his siblings as he focused on his fireworks show. They didn’t seem to be impressed but you clapped for him, before he gave some response about adoring fans there was a moment in his dark eyes where those golden fires shined just for you. That's when the glittering flickers within you started to storm. At the time you thought it was maybe residue from the magic, but now you know better.
Holding your hands out into the still night you mimic the moves that Rolan taught you after a few goblets of wine after he got more comfortable around you or maybe just got tired of your begging. As you gesture you feel the fluttering of magic down your arms to your hands, motioning your arms up you release the spell. You used to call it just simple fireworks. Though after that night it now has a new name for both of you; Rolan’s Fire
“What are you calling it?”
“Rolan’s Fire. You have to admit it has a nice ring to it.”
The bursting lights grow in a flash then dim in a beautiful marriott of colors and white light. The elegance of the spell always fit him and it never failed to fill you with warmth, but now you still feel the bite of the cold despite how many memories of him you conger or how many times you spill the lights from your hands.
“Just talk to him…” Karlach's words echo in your mind. Of course, it’s that simple, but would it be enough? Could you even be able to articulate how he sends sparks through you? Would he want you to? Or would he want something different…Clenching your fist hard, your mind running rampant with thoughts, with advice, with what you should do. Then finally you come to your decision.
The cold air stings your face as you run down the dark streets. With every step, your mind screams how this is crazy but your heart urges your tired feet forward. Running as fast as your legs can take you, the city and the few late-night pedestrians blur beside you as your eyes keep forward to one goal. Ramazith’s Tower.
Running up to the tower you don’t even give yourself a minute to catch your breath before banging on the doors with all your might. You know you won’t be able to rest until you finally settle this with him. Rolan needs to know, you need to know so you can function again. The pinning of your heart has thoroughly consumed you, it’s time. If only this damn door would open!
The frustration you feel gets released as you beat against the door,
“Stop beating against that damn door!”
The voice sounds rough with sleep but still has that formal tone you have grown to listen for, to adore…
The door swinging open you immediately feel those sparks. His hair, usually tied back so precisely is knotted back in a messy rush, he looks surprised to see you. His handsome face contorted to scrunch in confusion at your slummed body still trying to catch your breath. Staring at him in this state is not helping you catch your breath in the slightest.
Rolan's chest, usually concealed underneath his robes, is now exposed showing off his toned chest covered in those defining ridges that decorate his red skin. Unable to help yourself, your eyes follow the trail of his ridges to his abs then the simple trousers that are keeping the rest of him from you.
“Tav?” his voice is laced with concern before it's going back to his usual irritated one. “What are you doing here? Going to act like a lunatic then run off again?” Rolan steps closer “What's been going on with you? I thought we were friends and you keep avoiding me! So what is it now that is so damned impor-”
“Rolan, how do I ask you out?” you interrupt while still trying to catch your breath.
“Wh-What?” Rolan's dark eyes are wide, any trace of sleep has been knocked out of him by your question.
Pushing past him you walk into the tower. The tower has usually been lit up when you have seen it before, but now it's dark and intimidating. Turning to look at Rolan he still has that shocked look on his face. You know your question is sudden, but you couldn’t think of anything else. Nervously you begin rambling.
“Look, I know it’s a sudden question but I don’t know what else to do. I have asked everyone for advice, and I just can’t seem to do any of it right. So might as well just ask the source right? Because all the stuff I have tried I choke, or Im making a complete ass out of myself. So please, just tell me…so I can do it and get this…nonning ache out! I know the reject-”
During your pacing rant, you feel hands cupping your face gently, slowly they raise your head to have you meet his golden eyes. All the words die off in your throat, Rolan’s is staring at you so intensely. With him so close you take in the details of his horns, the freckles peppering his red skin. The feeling of his hands warming your skin, you want to stay like this forever but you just wish you knew what he was thinking.
“Rolan I-”
“Quiet.”
Rolan’s command instantly silences you. The sparks you have been feeling are erupting into a storm of excitement that rushes through you. His thumbs carefully brush against your skin only making you lean in closer. Rolons eyes glow in the darkness, you want to tell him how they set you on fire but right as you're parting your lips Rolan dips down and presses his mouth to yours. His soft lips make all your thoughts melt away. The thundering sparks are bursting into a warmth throughout your body. Rolan’s Fire…
Slowly as he keeps guiding your lips with a growing intensity, then carefully you feel your body being guided back. Once you feel your back meet the wall you break the kiss with a gasp, but it's only a quick second before his lips are pressing to yours once more. Rolan's hands slide down from your jaw to your hips bringing them closer to press against himself. A soft moan leaves your chest when you feel the hardness of his arousal straining against you.
Rolan slips his tongue between your lips to taste you, the deepening of the kiss causes you to tighten your thighs feeling yourself getting wetter with each pass of his tongue. Your hands find a place on the hard ridges on his warm chest, as you trace over them slowly you feel him groan into the kiss. Then Rolan breaks the and his warm breath fans over your ear as he speaks.
“Ask me now.”
The words barely register in your foggy mind as you feel Rolan slipping his hands underneath your shirt.
“What?” You can hardly manage the word, your shaky breath makes Rolan lean into your neck with a smile and a kiss, slowly he drags his soft lips against your skin sending shivers of excitement through you. Then his voice is back in your ear purring his words to you.
“Ask me out again…tell me what you want…please…I need to hear it.”
The hands underneath your shirt find your breasts and crease them as you stumble a moan trying to find your words.
“Rolan…”
“Yes?”, he whispers as he strips your shirt from you. His eyes roam over all your curves before he leans into your exposed chest, palming and lightly teasing at your sensitive skin.
“I want you in every way possible…I..want you,” you practically cry as you feel him move from your chest to sink lower, sliding his lips against your stomach. Once reaching the hem of your pants he tugs down your pants, rolling your pants and underwear down carefully exposing your wet sex.
Kneeling now you feel his lips press against your hips causing you to arch them forward. Shaky hands slide up the back of your thighs, suddenly you feel one of your legs being lifted to hook over his shoulder. Heart beating out of your chest you look down to see his eyes are already on you as he waits patiently on one knee. His eyes are completely blown with desire and you can feel the anticipation in his shaking touch as he rubs his hand on the outside of your thigh.
“Go out with me?” you ask desperately.
“Gods yes,” he groans before pressing his face into your folds, his hot tongue quickly finds your clit nudging and licking against the bundle making you throw your head back in a sharp gasp.
Rolan being a quick learner latches onto your swollen bundle, sucking and twirling his tongue against it. The sudden stimulation has a moan escaping you then quickly your hand comes down to grasp one of his horns, holding on desperately as you watch him ravishingly pleasure you.
Rolan's eyes widen then roll back as your grip gets tighter on his horn. The groan he releases from the sensation vibrates through you, tightening the coil in your stomach. The slick from your quivering slit is rolling down his chin. Moving slightly he laps his tongue to taste more, Adjusting so his perfect nose is rubbing against your clit. His tongue breaching your insides makes you grab both horns as you pull him in closer. You moan his name like a prayer as you ride against his face.
The more you tug on his horns the more he groans, he can't help but grasp hard on your behind making you whine more as his nails dig into you. Your stomach starts to suddenly tighten more as his velvet tongue finds the sweet stop within you.
“There! Fuck there! D-Don't, Ah!” you push your hips off the wall but he's quickly pushing them back against it to keep you still.
Keeping his eyes on you, he watches as the hot wave of pleasure rushes through you. Clasping your hand over your mouth you moan and shake as your orgasm hits. Rolan eagerly licks and sucks up your release as you ride out your high.
Finally coming down from it Rolan starts to move away from your spent cunt, though before he's moved away completely he gives a quick nip to your clit making you let out a sharp whine.
Body feeling feverish you lean and brace yourself against the wall, trembling and breathing heavily. Rolan rises from his kneel and you watch in awe as a mix of your arousal and his spit glistens against his perfect face. He brings his hand to wipe his face, his eyes flicking down at you as he smiles then licks up the residue from his fingers.
“Meet me at Elfsong tomorrow night?”
Stars in your eyes you nod absentmindedly at him, “Yes…”
Gods you can’t wait for tomorrow…
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loved you three summers !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she's living her dream and he's just her biggest supporter.
or
for when you know it'll be them, forever and always. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
social media au // pierre gasly x fem!reader
warnings - language
author's note - hope u like it!! thank you so much for reading, i love you <3 requests are still open!!
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, lilymhe, yourbestfriend and 357,825 others
pierregasly missing this one and her astonishing but understandable lack of enthusiasm about life
tagged yourusername
5,528 comments
username she's so pretty oh my god
username genuine question can pierre fight
-> yourusername no he cannot
-> pierregasly stfu yes i can
username she's so me
username THIS COUPLE OMG
username in love with their relationship like ❤️❤️❤️❤️
landonorris missing my uno opponent
-> yourusername miss making you cry during uno
-> landonorris IT WAS ONE TIME LET IT GO
username i want her
yourusername missing u and ur annoying gossip too ig
-> pierregasly don't act like u don't text me everyday ASKING for gossip
-> yourusername lies
username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by pierregasly, lilymhe, danielricciardo and 57 others
yourusername duality of student life
26 comments
landonorris can u even handle that much alcohol ?
-> yourusername says the one who passed out after drinking tequila
-> landonorris I WAS TIRED OKAY
danielricciardo i would drink colourful shit in the first picture
-> yourusername my dude that's phenolphthalein and methyl orange
lilymhe missing u so bad rn
-> yourusername too real missing my wife :///
carlossainz55 please call pierre he's crying
-> pierregasly STFU NO IM NOT
-> yourusername HELP OMG
pierregasly TOTALLY not crying because i love you!!!!!!! NOT at all!!!!!!!!!!
-> yourusername ofc!!!!!!!!! i believe u!!!!!!!!
pierregasly i love you ❤️
-> yourusername je t'aime ❤️
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, landonorris, yourbestfriend and 796,327 others
pierregasly when she's in love with you AND a phd student
tagged yourusername
4,691 comments
username HELP THAT'S SO CUTE
username oh my god i want this?????? so bad?????
username I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE
landonorris proof that y/n is secretly a hopeless romantic
-> yourusername don't spread misinformation x
-> pierregasly she literally sent me 56 messages saying she loves me
-> yourusername and ur blocked.
username THESE BITCHES SO IN LOVE IM SICK
username pls be mindful of the single people on this app 🙏
username im so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ about them
danielricciardo that skeleton in the last slide in so me like i can't explain it
-> pierregasly "that's daniel idk why or how" is what she said when she sent that to me
-> yourusername and i spoke nothing but the truth
yourusername who said im in love with u?????
-> pierregasly "i love u so much ur so pretty and im so lucky to have u like idk im just so in love with u" ok.
-> yourusername ALL MY TEXTS ARE UNDER MY COPYRIGHT BUT OK GO AHEAD
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liked by pierregasly, carmenmmundt, danielricciardo and 68 others
yourusername i've loved you three summers now honey but i want 'em all
tagged pierregasly
27 comments
charles_leclerc you should know that he's been giggling at this post for 20mins
-> yourusername LMFAOOOO
-> pierregasly STOP
landonorris omg she has feelings!!!!!!!! shocking!!!!!!!
-> yourusername this is why i have you saved as "stupid asshole" in my phone
lilymhe it's hard to see my gf with another man 🫤🫤🫤
-> yourusername he's just a side hoe babe dw abt it
lewishamilton roscoe misses u 🫶🏼
-> yourusername i miss my godson :///
danielricciardo PARENTS
-> yourusername SON????
-> pierregasly we have one but thanks
-> carlossainz55 YOU'RE PREGNANT?????
-> carmenmmundt OH MY GOD
-> alex_albon HELLO THIS IS HUGE
-> charles_leclerc WOAH
-> yourusername PIERRE U STUPID FUCK
-> pierregasly I MEANT SON AS IN OUR CAT WHAT THE FUCK
pierregasly i love you ⁉️
-> yourusername EVERYONE THINKS IM PREGNANT THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT
-> yourusername (i love u so much)
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my bf felix catton headcanons
semi-nsfw ☆
boob + ass man —
it's just true. not even in a relatively sexual sense always, either. he likes lying on your breasts when you cuddle or even your ass if you're laying on your stomach and reading or something. also playfully smacks it, though.
cigarette sharing —
he also likes holding out his cigarette so you can take a hit. like farleigh, he shotguns, and he'll also light your cigarette or joint for you!
pda —
he's big on handholding, and keeping an arm around you. let's be real. he's possessive, and this is a silent way of telling other people to fuck off.
music —
rock music all the way. when you're studying or he's driving you guys somewhere, it's always on blast — his playlist consists of the killers, kings of leon, the strokes, and muse. there's probably some classic rock in there, too. i'm sure he likes parking somewhere at times to kiss to it.
size difference —
referring back to him being a breast man, this is where this especially comes into play. his hands are HUGE. and no matter what size you are, he likes showing that through gripping your breasts. your waist, breast, hips, face... he fucking loves it.
sex life —
he's all about foreplay, but while he likes giving you head, he prefers using his fingers. that way he can hover over you and kiss you, and talk you through your orgasm while also being able to feel it. he's freaky.
pet names —
'love', 'darling', 'baby, 'babe'... there's a variety of pet names he uses for you tbh
i love yous —
i can see him actually being sort of nervous and shy to say i love you. he's had relationships, but none serious. you're different, and he's scared. probably stutters when saying it, and gets the biggest puppy-dog smile when you repeat it.
arguments —
he's popular. he's popular and getting used to actual commitment. so, there may be things he says or does that he doesn't register as wrong because of that. old habits that he has to kill. i also see him being a natural flirt, so that's probably a big argument kicker. almost all your arguments end with him storming away, or grabbing your face and kissing you feverishly.
hopeless —
a big image and post sender. also, voice notes! he likes sending you posts and songs that remind him of you. also, he feels voice notes are more sentimental than regular texts.
party life —
he's the life of the party, but that doesn't mean he can't still be a good boyfriend. ALWAYS dances with you, if not his friends and keeps you in his line of sight. gets drinks for you, and bringing you along for smoke breaks.
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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!”
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a/n: The song she walked down the aisle to was "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac. The bible verse mentioned is Song of Solomon 8:6-7 (RSVCE).
Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!
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Trailer park Steve AU pt 44
part 1 | part 43 | ao3
cw: recreational drinking
“You’re just…” Robin looks at him sideways, her face doing something quivery and weird that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be sympathetic concern but mostly looks like she stubbed her toe right after smelling microwaved fish. “You’re sure it’s not too soon?”
It is.
It definitely is too soon.
Steve’s pleasantly buzzed at a New Year’s Eve party — some random rich kid’s house, loitering in the space between the living room and kitchen so he and Robin can properly people watch (see also: be hugely judgmental bitches about the fashion sense of the girls on the dance floor and the sloppy form of the guys doing keg stands on the back deck) — and Steve just opened his fat, drunk mouth and casually admitted to being in love with Eddie.
Eddie, the guy who hated him for years. The guy who tried to knife him the first time they interacted as neighbors.
The guy whose silhouette has started to fill the passenger seat in Steve's Winnebago dreams.
Eddie’s here, but he’s not here; probably posted up somewhere in the basement so he can deal to the stoners and the horny kids playing Spin the Bottle, and Steve—
Steve knows he falls too fast. Always has, but especially now. Steve fell for Eddie like a gunshot going off: a deafening bang, gurgling fish sounds, blood all over the floor. He kinda thinks he couldn’t help it. Kinda thinks he’d do it again.
And how could he not, when Eddie smiles at him like that? When he takes him apart so sweetly with his words, his lips, his tongue? When he dragged Steve by the hand into the back pew of a midnight mass on Christmas Eve, giggling about how he was shocked his satanic worship hadn’t set the bench aflame?
Yeah.
Steve totally understood why Jesus got up on that cross.
“Oh, my god,” Robin rolls her eyes with a strangled huff. “Are you seriously just—? You’re fucking hopeless.”
Yeah, he is, and yes, he is. “No,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to feel like a defiant kid who got caught lying to his mother, because yeah, he totally is spacing out into lovesick La La Land while being actively accused of spending too much time there lately. “I’m not fucking hopeless, and it’s not too soon.”
Robin gapes at him like 'are you kidding me right now?' “Steve!”
“Robin!” he answers, mimicking her tone. Wow. Vodka makes him petulant.
It makes Robin stubborn as hell. She juts her chin out and hollers over the music, gesturing so aggressively she almost spills her drink, “Admit that it’s too soon!”
“It isn’t!” Steve shouts back; digs his heels in and refuses to budge, never mind the fact that it’s only been, like, three weeks since Eddie fingered him for the first time oh, god, don’t think about Eddie’s fingers right now.
They stare at each other for a second, Robin’s nostrils flaring with the words she so clearly wants to yell at him, her breaths coming hot and harsh, and then, with a long sigh, her shoulders deflate. Her chin comes down. She bites her lip again, teeth turning the skin white as her eyes go big and sad. Worried. She's worried for him because she loved him first.
Steve smiles at her, a quick, closed-lip thing that feels more like shrugging with his mouth, and he leans into her space; pats her cheek and thumbs her chin until she stomps chomping on her lip.
“You’re gonna get it all chapped,” he says in a hush, hoping her Steve translator is still intact after a couple drinks. Hopes she knows that he’s really saying ‘I hear you’ and ‘I love you, too; I love that you care’ because they're at a party and god does he not feel like saying sappy friendship shit out loud.
Robin’s eyes get misty. Just for a second — message received; copy that — and she clears her throat and shakes it off. Points at something over Steve’s shoulder and drags him to the other side of the room.
—
part 45
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RECOVERY
I spent a lot of my life depressed without admitting it to myself and then i spent a year so depressed i could hardly make myself do the bare minimum to keep my body alive, and now it's about 3 years since i got up from that lowest point and while i am still struggling with myself things are objectively a lot better.
and i just want to put a couple things i've learned, both to remind myself of how far i've come, and in case any of what i've experienced helps anyone else.
You can't run from the darkness
When you're super depressed it's easy to focus on how much you don't want to be depressed. When everything is darkness you tend to wish you could escape that darkness.
but you can't. The darkness is all around you. You can't run away from it without running deeper into it.
instead, follow the light.
don't think of it as escaping depression, think of it as seeking joy. Don't run away from the darkness, walk toward any lights you can see.
At first it will be very small things. The taste of a food. The way your favorite color looks. A smell you like. For me one of the first things i could find to remind me of joy was the way a warm shower feels.
I would just stand in the shower and lean into the tiny, tiny joy of that feeling. I would describe it to myself, how it felt good, what about it felt good. It didn't cure me, it didn't make me less depressed, but it was a little point of joy to focus on, to breathe into like a tiny candle flame in my darkness.
I would memorize that feeling, so that later, when i felt like nothing ever brought me joy anymore, i could think, no, that's your depression lying to you, you felt joy, however small, right there in the shower just yesterday. And, maybe there is more somewhere else.
Even today, it's been a hard week, i'm feeling a lot of hopeless and helpless feelings clamoring away at me, but... i have spicy soup. And spicy soup is a NEW joy. I found spicy soup joy as i was following any little light i could out of the deepest part of my depression.
I never put hot sauce in soup before then. But today i am drinking the broth of a very spicy soup and as much as everything else is complicated and difficult and scary and dark, there is a bright mote of joy in this sip of spicy soup. And in the next one. And the next. I enjoy it, i love it, all the more that it is new, and if i had given up four years ago, i never would have known this small joy, this new favorite tiny thing.
Who knows what other little joys i may find?
If you have come to a place in life where you have lost the knowledge of how to feel joy, it is important to remember that feeling joy is like anything else in life. The more you practice, the better you get, the more of it you can do at higher levels.
And there are only so many minutes in the day. The more of them you spend acknowledging what feels good, the less of them will be left for feeling bad.
you can't escape the darkness by fleeing from it, but you can find the light by moving toward it.
Chop Wood Fetch Water
Another thing i learned was a truth about the exercise advice you always hear.
For where i am in my recovery now, common exercise has very little impact. I don't really get the endorphins people talk about, and i don't tend to feel better about myself after i work out unless i already feel pretty okay about myself to begin with. i don't mean to say there is no point in me exercising, but, i walk about ten miles a day holding onto 8 energetic dogs and i do a fair amount of lifting and bending and stuff for my job, and it's fine but it's not, like, doing a whole lot for me at this point in my recovery (tho i do think more recreational exercise will come back into play a stage or two on in my healing process)
HOWEVER
There was a year there where i was only getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. When i was only able to force myself to eat just enough each day to stay alive because i'd made a promise to myself, and that promise was almost all i had left.
and the right kind of exercise is what pulled me out of that.
the RIGHT kind.
See, someone close to me needed help with a physical job. That was an important part and why this method is known historically as some variation of Chop Wood Carry Water -- it's intensely physical, which is important, but also, it helps the people around you. These days our personal communities tend to not need wood copped and water carried the same way. But you can get the same effect helping someone move all their furniture, doing all the yard work for your friends and/or family, volunteering for a charity that builds housing for homeless people, SOMEthing physically taxing that helps people.
In my case, my aging father needed help re-shingling the roof. So i promised i'd help.
So i got up every morning because he was expecting me. And i climbed the ladder because he would see me if i didn't. And i lifted and carried and hammered and worked hard. It took a week of six to eight hour days.
Right away, the fact that it was helping someone else made it not matter so much that it didn't feel like it was helping me at first. I couldn't deny that i was doing something good, that my existence had positive meaning, however small.
But very soon, it changed something fundamental in my state of depression. You can't do physical labor in the sun 7 hours a day without drinking a bunch of water. Without working up an appetite. Without getting very tired at the end of the day.
See, i had been struggling to make myself drink enough water, i was fighting to make myself eat even one small meal's worth of food each day, and i couldn't get a good night's sleep to save my life. And these things all made my depression much much worse. You think you get sad or angry from skipping a meal, consider being chronically undernourished. You think your mental state is worse after pulling an all nighter, think about what never getting a good night's sleep does.
But a couple days into this job with my father, and suddenly i was hydrated, i was eating full meals, and i was sleeping soundly at night.
THAT is what pulled me out of that deepest part of my depression.
So in a way, it was exercise that saved me. But not how people often say "have you tried exercising?" More like pushing myself physically to the point that my body demanded the things that previously i couldn't get it to want for itself.
Instead of forcing myself to eat i was craving food. Instead of staying up to all hours and then tossing and turning, i was physically exhausted and slept early and hard. (and, weirdly, being physically exhausted was somehow a relief from being emotionally/mentally exhausted)
Lastly
Healing often isn't noticeable while you're doing it
"healing is a process" is something you hear a lot, but i think it's more helpful to say something like
"Healing is like growing your hair out from short to long. You can look in the mirror every day and not notice it happening. And even when you can tell for sure it's longer than it was, you still can't really do anything with it, and it may seem pointless. But then one day you can tie it back in a ponytail and you realize how much it's grown and how many options are open to you now and you're really glad you stuck with it"
Now excuse me while i go meditate on the joys of my remaining spicy soup.
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(Day 2) Gotta be a moron to wanna be a fighter
Pairing: König x Reader
Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.
(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)
Warning: Smut, Penetration (no mention of reader genitals so could feasibly be PiV or Anal depending on what you rather), lube, pinning down, dirty talk
AN: So some of you have waited a loooong ass time for this, so sorry about that, but it takes a while to do sex scenes, what can I say 👀 for those of you coming across this now or not in the loop, this is basically just a smut chapter for rocky start because I know some of you don’t read it for the smut and just like fluff. So if you do not like smut do not feel you have to read this to be caught up, there is very little plot going on and you will miss basically nothing - it’s just a catch up on what happened day 2 at the hotel! For those of you like me who love a little spice, I hope you enjoy this, I for one loved writing it 😈💕
Part 5.5 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here
-☠️-
After drinking to a point that you were barely speaking English, it should hardly have been a surprise when you’d woken up the next day with a raging hangover. You’d unpasted your eyes, rubbing them with the backs of your hands, and rose up from the sheets slowly, blinking harshly. Surprisingly there were no visible clouds when you’d breathed out, though you still wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the goosebumps rise up like an allergy to the hopeless cold.
“Oh, so you’ve decided to wake up then?”
You startled a little as the deep voice sounded out and frowned when you looked to your side - the side where König lay with his head propped on his arm and his phone in his other hand. Ugh. You groaned and flopped down on the bed beside him, rubbing your head and feeling thoroughly sorry for yourself. It was as if tiny knives were being driven into your brain by little shrieking demons.
“Wish I hadn’t, I feel like shit,” you mumbled, ramming the heels of your hands into your eyes. “And why is it so cold in here?”
Your headache was no joke - it was piercing through your skull like a dull drill. To add insult to injury, König laughed at you loudly, the sound only compounding with the thudding pain. He watched on as you opened your eyes again, only to glare over at him in your most pathetic attempt at a show of anger.
“Well that’s what happens when you drink. And, just so you know, you don’t need to make excuses to cuddle with me anymore, Sneaky.”
“I’m not making excuses, I’m practically getting frostbitten out here,” you huffed, crawling your way over to him.
“Is that so? Well, let me see what I can do about that,” he smiled, ushering you over.
You burrowed into him, wrapping your arms around his sides and shoving your head into the middle of his chest, sighing like a displeased dog. It helped - unsurprisingly. König was like your own personal hot water bottle, his body alone was enough to abate the jittering in your limbs just by reaching out and running his hands across your arms. The petting and the cooing helped as well of course.
“I assume you’re very hungover then?”
You grunted at him.
“Oh dear. What are we going to do with you? Shall we get you a cold shower and get you outside and into the light?”
“Be gentle with me,” you pleaded, already horrified at the thought of having to go out.
“Poor little Sneaky. Are you out of commission today?”
“Not for the whole day…just for now,” you said with a grimace, nuzzling into him further.
“Alright then, you can have a moment to adjust.”
He sighed and indulged you for a few minutes more, gently tracing patterns into the back of your shirt. You hummed as he created looping shapes around your body and occasionally rubbed the knots out of your back, feeling as if you were being smoothed down into caramel. Your breaths came out slower and little by little your eyes sunk closed. Though just as you’d started to fall back asleep you were jolted awake with the gentle brush of his fingers teasing against your sides.
“Hey! Don’t you start that,” you growled.
“Start what?” König asked innocently.
“You know what! Don’t you dare tickle me.”
“Or what?” he asked, tilting his head at you with a condescending smile.
“Or I'll kick your ass.”
“You’ll ‘kick my ass’? Really?”
“Don’t test me,” you said weakly, breaking out into a yawn before you could help it.
He laughed at you till his body shook and the sound rattled around your aching skull. It disturbed your peace till you groaned, rolling off of him and over to the other side of the bed. The sheets were frosty cold, though for a split second, you were able to kid yourself into thinking you’d settle and get some more rest.
“You’re not very convincing. Maybe they should’ve called you Sleepy,” König noted, rolling you flat on your back.
He loomed over you, casting a shadow over your field of vision. His hands rested either side of you and disturbed the bed, rolling you ever so slightly as his weight shifted. It was like being in bed with a big cat.
“If I let you call me Sleepy, will you leave me alone?” you asked, rubbing the last of the tiredness from your eyes.
He pretended to think about it for a moment, his eyelashes and messy strands of hair catching odd rays of light from the lacy curtains. He shone for a moment, encased in the glistening rays before he leaned forward into the dark shadows that swallowed your side of the bed. The look of pensiveness washed from his face in an instant, resculpted into a ruthless smile.
“No, I think that you should stop being lazy and get up,” he concluded. “I’ve been lying here all morning wasting away, waiting for you. Look at me, I’m practically skin and bones.”
“Skin and bones? Are you sure?”
You softly ran your fingers against his arms as if to check if he was telling the truth and delighted in hearing the sharp intake of breath followed by his hissed complaint about your cold hands. Sweet revenge. Giving into the sinister smile that worked it’s way over your face, you then attempted to bop his nose, taking it a step further. Though that was barely a thought before your hands were pinned down above your head. Your two hands were snatched from you and captured in his one while the other steadied his shaking frame above you.
“No fair,” you pouted, trying to weakly wriggle out of his grasp.
He was far more awake than you, his body was ready to strike. Meanwhile you still felt heavy and overburdened with your recent stroke of consciousness. No match for him. Though you’d begun to doubt if you were any match for him at all in any circumstances as you came to realise that his grip was an iron shackle around you.
“You making me go hungry isn’t fair either,” he chastised, voice rumbling and deep.
You sucked in a breath and desperatley tried not to let it show how deeply his voice affected every inch of you. The low growl combined with the way he held you was awakening something within you, though you weren’t feeling reciprocal of the hunger he seemed to be talking about. It was enough to make you forget all about the pulsing in your head and drove you to baser instincts, your cheeks heating and your heart pounding.
“What’re you hungry for?” you asked, blinking slowly up at him.
You’d hoped to entice him. Coyly biting your lip and dropping your voice, trying to charm his body to slope even further into yours and take what he wanted, do what you desired.
“You want know what I’m hungry for?” He asked, voice whispering and soft.
“What?” you breathed.
“Two bacon rolls at the very least, and some fruit and- oh stop your groaning. I have needs!”
You’d lost that round.
-☠️-
König - despite ruining your fun - wasn’t a complete taskmaster. He let you slowly meander over to the bathroom and even had the decency to avoid complaining too much when it took you almost an hour to emerge from your room and meet him in the hallway. You’d milked every little second that you could to move at a snail's pace and sit at every opportunity that presented itself.
However, you’d practically had to hold your jaw in place when you finally saw him again. He’d taken a shower as well, and was standing there with his damp fluffy hair and aged Rammstein shirt as if there wasn’t an arctic chill blasting its way through the old hotel. It was ridiculous, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, tried to let that dominate your assessment of him - but nothing could stop you finding him ridiculously hot. The thought of jumping over to him and convincing him against breakfast was only stopped when he took you by surprise and grabbed your hand leading you to the stairway.
“C’mon, or everything will be shut before we make it outside,” he’d urged, making a point to speed up his pace.
You were still taking in his appearance and controlling your rogue urges to stroke his hair and run your hands over his weather hardened body. His muscles were strained and taught and, even when you’d tried to mention that you could go back for his jacket, he’d still insisted that getting to a food source was more important. He only had one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t going to be overridden by the weather or any of the urges you had.
He was nothing if not persistent - something that you were grateful for every time you got the opportunity to lean into him. Smelling the fresh citrusy body wash he’d used while you caressed his arm, you dazedly walked beside him and let him take you to breakfast, nothing more than a passenger along for his ride. A ride that you could hardly complain about, he let you cuddle into him in the booth at breakfast and wrapped his arm around you while you’d waited for food to come. Your cure.
It was important that you’d gotten a good breakfast and fixed yourself up, it prepared you for your mission ahead - sneaking snacks into the hotel without the old bat at reception seeing. Even after a feast fit for several kings, König was still peckish and you’d bought a whole bagful of chocolate and pringles and cookies to ensure you’d avoid being dragged out again. After all, you didn’t want any interruptions to your movie day.
“Happy now?” König asked, stroking your cheek.
You’d gone to your room first and he’d thrown your bag of goods up to you through the window. That was how you’d found yourselves wrapped up and back in your bed again, occasionally munching on snacks while nuzzling into him. Rocky 2 played quietly from your tablet, propped carefully on the flimsy bed stand and served as a nice lazy day movie to cuddle up to. König’s body was nice and soft, and now that you weren’t drunk or hungover you could fully appreciate every contour and soft muscle as he flexed and shifted with his ever present restlessness.
“Very happy actually,” you hummed contentedly.
“Good,” he murmured.
You sighed and watched the movie for a little longer before you’d begun to get distracted. Your eyes had strayed from the screen and onto König’s face. Sharp ridges and little scars were catching your gaze, his sparkling eyes were fixed on the screen, reflecting the moving figures. They hadn’t caught onto your staring yet, which you’d realised all too late was getting a little too gratuitous, so you quickly cast your gaze down toward his T-shirt.
It felt like your head had been filled with cotton. Your hand snaked out and dragged over to the centre of his chest where the fading chunky white letters on his T-shirt were burning holes into your vision - forcing you to mindlessly trace them. You were simpering away while you did it, obsessing over the thought of kissing him. It wasn’t like it’d be the first time, but for some reason you felt too shy to just do it. Perhaps because the only times you’d done it before the moment had been right for it, filled with passion.
This was a different situation entirely. This felt almost…domestic? The air was calm and there was no pulsing static and roaring flames crying passion, you were just lounging in bed together like a long established couple, cosily intertwined. Would it be ok? Would he want you to kiss him out of the blue?
“What are you thinking about?”
You jolted and hazarded a quick look back up at his face, not missing his sly smile. Mind Reader. You bit your lip and finished your ridgid path across the soft second M of Rammstein, shrugging.
“Tell me,” he urged, pinching your hip.
“Not if you do that again,” you laughed, narrowing your eyes at him.
“Alright...tell me then.”
“You have to promise not to laugh.”
“I promise I’ll try not to,” he said seriously, smiling when your eyes slitted further.
You held eye contact for a moment longer, but soon chickened out when you finally decided to tell him what you’d been thinking about. You hoped he wouldn’t think you were being silly for getting all shy about something you’d already done before, as if you weren’t cuddled up to him bed and stroking his chest with no issue.
“I wanna kiss you,” you mumbled.
He was quiet for a second before he exhaled, the rush of his breath coming down warm on your cheeks.
“Why would I laugh about that?”
You looked back up at him and shrugged again, feeling a nervous grin tug at your lips. Even knowing who he was, knowing so many of his habits and flaws and humanity, there was something so intimidating and untouchable about him. No matter what you’d done before.
“Because I was too shy to just do it,” you explained, cheeks heating to boiling temperature. “I’m getting all silly and in my head about it.”
“It's cute that you’re so shy all of a sudden,” he rumbled. “But I hope you know that you can kiss me whenever you’d like.”
Your lip was getting sensitive now, teeth grazing harshly against your swelling flesh. Chills stole their way through your back and sent your limbs shaky as you crawled up to meet his face. Suddenly the room felt like it was a hundred different temperatures all at once.
“Thought we weren’t allowed to use the word cute,” you challenged.
“Only when it’s directed at me.”
You rolled your eyes. He tsked at you - your only warning before he quickly rolled you both over and held you down with the weight of his body. His lower half completely secured you to the shrieking mattress while his arms flanked your sides, a firm reminder that you weren’t going anywhere. It had you swallowing a difficult breath and shifting your legs, adjusting to the tingles that were coursing through your body.
“I don’t think you like me being cute all that much really... I think really you like it better when I’m like this,” he said, his sultry voice like smooth honey to your ears. “Whenever I have you under me, you always look like you’re trying to hold yourself back.”
Freezing temperatures be damned, you were practically sweating through the sheets listening to his voice drop so low. Your eyes felt too full as you took him in, eyelids drooping to compensate for your blown out pupils. You could feel your lashes dancing across your skin like flustered butterflies.
König watched as you adjusted your hands, eyes flicking and following your movements like a hunter. You pushed yourself up and weakly rose, wrapping your arms around his tensing back and pressing your fingers into the bobbling old fabric of his Shirt. That had to go, you thought. This was going to be so much more than a simple kiss, you’d decided, you were ready.
“You’re right. Definitely like this,” you whispered.
With a newly discovered confidence, you met his lips and kissed him deeply. Your head pulsed and throbbed as stars burst across the darkness and pierced through the veil of your eyelids like a firework show. Your chest felt like it was being crushed as you melted against him, the pressure too much, your combined heartbeats creating a frenzy. His mouth was so perfect and his tongue twisting around yours was driving you wild, it had you moaning, a sirens call pervading the room.
The moment lasted as if a spell were cast. As if you were both trapped in time and held close forever in your kiss, melted within an abstract portrait of impossible feelings and highs. Mind scrabbling, you slowly lay back, breaking the kiss and let your hands wander to his sides, coming to the hem of his T-shirt and lifting it slightly, stroking the soft flesh underneath.
“What are you doing?”
Hearing König’s voice snapped you out of your stupor and you giggled, pursing your lips like you’d done something bad. You’d certainly thought of bad things, even if you were only trying to lift his shirt…
“Want to feel you,” you mumbled.
“Oh…I see,” he murmured, quirking his lips and perching his head onto his hand.
He rolled to his side and shifted his weight onto the arm that now dug into the bed beside you, tipping you closer toward him. It was just another reminder of how much of him there was, the sheer size of him. You wanted him so bad, it was the only thought you were capable of thinking as you scrambled to sit up and meet his gaze.
“I need more.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you repeated dazedly.
“Are you sure?” He asked, voice a little more tentative.
“What do you mean, am I sure?” you giggled, body screaming out for him to get back to work. “Of course I’m sure! Are you sure?”
He licked his lips and looked off to the side for a moment, as if some cue cards might appear over by the window. Rocky continued to play in the background - the scene where he goes to the press conference and Creed tears into him. You let out a little exhale of laughter when you hear Stallone talking about snowcones and it draws König’s attention squarely back to you. His eyes are unreadable tomes, he looks like he could be about to say anything which has you holding your breath and unwittingly freezing in place.
“Don’t get me wrong, I want this more than anything but…most of the time whenever I do this- uh, whenever I’ve been with people, they’ve…not been people I’ve really known or cared about, but I really care about you. I don’t want to rush things or do something wrong, you know?”
He barely breathed as he made his confession, his face filled with consternation all the way from his pursing lips to the bob of his adam’s apple. Despite that though, a flood of relief washed through you. He wasn’t pausing because he didn’t want you, he was just getting in his head about things too. Rightfully so, when you knew that deep beneath the cool hard exterior, König had a lot of anxieties buried underneath it all, spackled behind thick walls.
You weren’t sure of the extent of his insecurities, but you knew that you wanted to help to break down those walls in any way you could. With that in mind, you cupped your hand on his cheek and stroked it with your thumb, grazing it along the golden line of his stubble while you looked at him straight in his searching eyes.
“König, I really do want to do this with you and I don’t think you’d do anything that I didn’t want. I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of time I’ve spent thinking about this without sounding like a creep,” you laughed, watching as he dropped his tensed shoulders and seemed to shed his anxiety like a robe. “I’ve wanted this for so long, but especially when you showed up at that bar and finally showed me your face and your arms, I just-”
You trailed off and withdrew from him, suddenly getting self conscious as you realised you were about to vomit out your fantasies to him. It seemed like a good idea when you’d started speaking and then all too quickly you realised how embarrassing it was to say what you were going to say. Though, unluckily for you he wasn’t letting you off easy.
“What do you think about my arms?” he laughed, face finally relaxing into an easy smile again.
“I think that they’re nice,” you said weakly, throat drying like the sahara.
“Oh yeah? What is it about them that’s nice?” he asked with a glint in his eye.
“I um…oh god,” you laughed, taking your turn to look away.
He laughed in turn, but instead of letting you have your moment with the invisible sitcom audience, he turned your face with his hand and stared you down with renewed purpose. Suddenly the simmering flame had been brought back to boil and you were feeling your heart begin to stutter again.
“I want to know what you like, I want to give you everything you want,” he pleaded, making your legs go shaky. “I need you to tell me all those thoughts you’ve been thinking about me so that I can make you feel good.”
You could’ve passed away and gone to heaven there and then. His voice was so soft, but there was no mistaking the urgency in it. He was tense, filled with kinetic energy that was bursting to release, you could see it in the way he just barely shook, heart thrumming in his chest, could feel it crackling in the air around you.
“I like to think about you pinning me underneath you…like you were doing before.”
“Oh yeah?” he urged, shifting so that he could assume his position. “And what else? Tell me.”
You took a raspy breath and continued staring up at him while your body lay prone.
“I want you to take control, I want you to hold me…and grab me,” you breathed, utterly possessed by the idea you could make your fantasies come true. “I want you to kiss me again, König.”
His eyes were so dark, he looked feral. His jaw twitched as he listened to you and just before his lips were colliding with yours again, you took a moment to admire the way you’d undone him. Tracking the way his gaze raked over you, you widened your eyes as his hands gripped the sheets like they were the reins to a bucking stallion. You rose from the bed and met him, tongue darting out to his once more.
König leaned over a little more, his knees dropping so that his body lowered over you, securing you in your position. You could feel barely a portion of his chest on you, but still it was like having a bear act as your weighted blanket. Though even then, his kiss was never too forceful. His lips synced with yours in a perfect harmony and his hands brushed up your arms and traced the curve of your neck in a feathery caress.
“You’re like heaven,” König hummed.
You tipped your head back and moaned in turn as he pressed a kiss to your cheek then continued to trail them from your jaw, down your neck and grabbed your shirt, tugging it aside so he could kiss your collarbone. He lit little fires with every kiss, his breath tickling your flesh and setting off a flare of goosebumps. Your breaths were coming out whiny, filling the room like restless spirits.
“König, more…take it off please…”
You were begging, voice overflowing with desperation as you clawed at the hem of his shirt again. He laughed softly, but König must have been feeling benevolent because he didn’t make you wait much longer. He pushed himself up into a kneeling position and towered over you, pulling his shirt up over his head like a parachute and abandoning it behind him.
“Is that better?” he asked innocently.
You held your breath for a moment and felt your eyes almost vibrate as you drank him in. Even though you’d been cuddled up with him for a good portion of the day, you were still in disbelief when you finally saw what he looked like underneath the shirt. You were forced to bite your lips so as not to squeal. He was the kind of man that inspired statues, from the defined pecs and abs to his soft belly, he was beautiful.
“How do you look so fucking good?” you groaned.
He snorted at that and shook his head.
“You overreact everytime you see more of me. Are you going to faint if I take my trousers off?”
“I wouldn’t rule that out,” you squeaked, not even beginning to imagine how you’d cope.
He rolled his eyes at you, not losing his smile for a second. Secretly, he was loving the attention, loving how much you fell for every inch of him. The moan that he let out when you ran your hand down his sternum spurred you on, showing you just how much he enjoyed the worship.
“You’ll have to even things out, of course,” he said breathlessly, looking at you with purpose.
You bit your lip and looked down toward your own chest for a second, before sitting upwards to meet him. Your top layers were off in seconds, a new record, abandoned to the other side of the room like rags. Before König could get a chance to take you in you were kissing him again and urging him to keep going, drawing his head back to your neck, gasping as he gently grazed you with his teeth.
His growls rang in your ears and pulsed all the way down your spine and to your legs, sending you shaking. Animalistic pants and noises were all that filled the room as you both explored each other, running your hand over bumpy scars, course hair and soft skin, kissing the thick expanse of his body when you could. Your senses were filled with him and only him, citrus and musk and muscle all combining to form a catalyst that soon had you crawling onto his lap and bucking against him for friction.
“You need this don’t you?” he said softly and slowly, dragging out each word with a groan. “Does that feel good? Does it feel good using me like that?”
Your heart beat triple time - you were barely able to respond to him. He was gripping your thighs and teasing his hand over your crotch in small intervals, delighting in the noises you made when he touched you just right. It was the best kind of agony feeling him through the thick material, had you aching to get it all off.
“Feels sooooo good,” you moaned.
You stared into his eyes, watching as he smiled and gripped the back of your neck, forcing you to keep eye contact with him
“I like it when you look at me like that. I love your beautiful doe eyes, looking at me so hungry. You look like you’re so ready for me. Do you want more?” he rumbled.
“Yes! More, please König please! I feel like m’ on fire,” you cried out, only barely coherent. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”
He laughed mournfully at that,, the kind that suggested he had bad news. The kind that said he’d love to indulge you, but not yet.
“I don’t have condoms with me,” he groaned.
“I do,” you grunted, separating from him for a moment.
You leaned back and fumbled with the bedside table, knocking your tablet down loudly just as Rocky landed a punch, and pulled out a couple of foil packets from the drawer and a bottle of lube. It was as if you’d performed a magic trick, König went from looking regretful to looking stunned then finally settled on holding a sly smile.
“Have I ever mentioned how often you surprise me?” He muttered, not hesitating in taking the paraphernalia from you.
“No, but you can tell me all about it after,” you moaned.
König bit his lip, trapping the smile that clearly wanted to break loose. He was completely entranced by you. Instead of laughing at how feral you’d grown, he set to work unbuttoning your trousers and pulling them off of you, taking everything with them until you were fully naked and on display. He tilted his head downward and blinked slowly, looking like he was in disbelief at your body.
“You’re perfect,” he sighed.
Blood rushed to your face like a tidal wave, and you broke your stare for a moment of respite. He was so intense, looking at you like a stalking wolf does a deer. Your chest felt thick with anticipation, not even in the least bit prepared for what was coming. He continued to hold you, one arm wrapped around you while the other was occupied, busy with what was to come.
You gasped as he lubed up his fingers and began to slowly and painstakingly circle them around your entrance. He played with you, barely letting his sights leave your face. He clearly got off your stilted breaths, watching as you adjusted to the cold gel, moaning as he listened to the noises you made with a blissed out smile on his face.
“You sound so pretty,” he purred. “Keep making those beautiful noises for me, yeah?”
You groaned in response, not able to give him much more.
Finally when you were prepared enough, he easily slipped a finger inside of you and stretched you out, gently plunging it back and forth before adding another. He mixed up his motions, massaging you and curling his fingers and creating a rhythm that had your ears filling with pulsing fuzz and thighs shaking like you’d been labouring for days. You cried out for him, begging him to fuck you, repeatedly telling him ‘please’ and whimpering when he just smiled at you and shook his head, eventually adding another finger.
“Please König, need to feel you…”
“These are my fingers are they not?” he said, chuckling meanly.
“Not what I meant!” you huffed, collapsing into his chest with a particularly hard thrust. “I want your cock! I want you to fuck me König!”
He snarled out a sigh and withdrew his digits, then kissed you, silencing your begging with his harsh mouth and tongue while he fiddled with his belt and buttons. After a few seconds he was parting from you again, lip dripping with spit, and rucked down his trousers and boxers in one. He pulled at them harshly and tossed them aside just like everything else.
“Tell me again,” he uttered.
You drunkenly looked him over and had to double take when you saw him playing with his cock, generously coating the huge length of it with lube, getting himself ready for you. That was what he’d been (somehow) hiding this whole time! Before you could do anything to help it, your mouth hung open and you let out the most pathetic noise you’d ever made, a low lustful whimper.
“Oh, you like that do you?” He chuckled.
“It’s so big,” you said wondrously, voice fading into nothing.
“Mhmm…you ready to take all this?” he smirked, pumping upward and opening his hand so that you could see the full hard length of it. “Don’t be shy, tell me how much you want it.”
“Oh god.”
You were so lost that you couldn’t even respond properly to his question, his soothing tones too gentle to register. It was going to be a struggle. You were going to feel every inch of it filling you up like a bed post, it was so impossibly long and thick to a degree that it filled even König’s hand. Though, still that didn’t deter you from bucking your hips against him like an animal in heat, welcoming him to ease it inside of you.
“C’mon, I want to hear you say it again,” König ordered. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me,” you all but gasped.
“Fuck me?” he repeated back. “You can - ah- do better.”
He was gritting his teeth, his body straining as he tried to keep himself together. The speed of his hand was picking up its pace and you whined, feeling like you were taking on some kind of punishment. You would feel far better than his hand did, why wouldn’t he just fuck you already?
“Fuck me, König! I need you to fuck me with your big cock,” you whined.
“Oh, yes,” he growled, “I love hearing my name like that. Come here, let me take care of you.”
He wrapped his arms around you and ushered you over his lap, dragging you both to the edge of the bed so that he could set his legs on the ground. You squeaked as his hands gripped harshly at your hips and lined you up with his cock, breaking his hold for a second while he teased his tip at your entrance, gently guiding you down onto it as if it weren’t going to split you in half.
“S’already so much,” you moaned, loudly exhaling into the cavernous room. “You’re so big König.”
“Shh, it’s ok,” he soothed, bracing his forehead against yours. “You just need to take it slowly, yeah? Let me guide you.”
“It’s too much,” you cried out, wrapping your arms around him. “But it feels…s- so good.”
You dug your fingers into the soft flesh of his back and buried your head into his hard shoulder. A rush of hot tears were welling in your eyes, it felt like you were going to sob as you were fucked down further onto him. Though still, you were lightly bucking your hips back and forth, easing yourself further down and moaning in joy in how he perfectly filled you, how good the growing pressure felt, the burning tension in your thighs and in your stomach.
Your breaths sped out quick and uneven and you dug your fingers into the ridges of his back all the more, unknowingly carving tiger stripes down the length of him. You were both seething, but neither of you tried to pull away, instead you only got closer, feeling like you’d been sucked into a black hole when he finally bottomed out, your atoms spread into a breeze.
“There, doesn’t that feel good?” he asked, sighing deeply against your shoulder. “You feel so tight around me, you feel perfect.”
“Mhmm,” you whimpered.
“I need you to tell me how good it feels. C’mon,” he encouraged, gently rubbing your back. “Tell me.”
“I feel…so full. Feels so big - but - but it feels so good,” you cried out, feeling as if you had nothing left in your head.
“Oh yeah? You look so good like that, all dazed,” König murmured. “I want to savour this, remember how you look when I’m on base. I’m going to feel the ghost of you clenching around me when I’m in my room, you know that?”
You were clenching just at the thought! Humming when you heard him hissing in pleasure. His eyes were just as drunk as yours, drooping full of lust, a perfect mirror. He grinned just slightly, then gripped your hips tighter, forcing you up before bringing you back down again. You both panted and groaned, taking in the sensations zipping through your bones and burning flesh.
It started off slow at first, König gently fucked you, letting you get used to his girth. You’d barely seen dildos that compared to the size of his cock, let alone experienced anyone fucking you like that before. It had you tipping your head back and parting your lips, whimpering up into the air like a pathetic wolf howl. He groaned and growled over you, breathing quicker and quicker as he increased his pace. He slowly but surely set himself into a rhythm, setting his head on your chest and teasing one of your taught nipples with his flickering tongue.
You were wailing, gripping onto his shoulders with one hand and threading your fingers through his damp hair with the other. He got faster, pulling in and out of you and sending your heart into overdrive. A warzone could’ve broken out around you both and you’d hardly notice over the booming of your hearts, the creaking of the bed, and the lewd sound of his thrusts against your slicked up flesh. Every stroke set off a new wave of fireworks inside you, a hand would lift from your hips and stroke you between your legs, only acting as a catalyst to the growing explosion. Your belly grew tighter and tighter as an orgasm stirred to life, crackling and sparkling at the base of your stomach.
Though, just as you were hitching your breath, preparing to let go within a matter of minutes, you both were brought to a halt. Footsteps loudly crashed across the flooring outside and a hushed conversation ensued between two older sounding people, something about a strange noise they were hearing. How fucking curious.
“Geh scheißen!”
You giggled a little at König’s hissed curse and watched as his eyes took on a thunderously dark shade, looking like he was going to go out there and strangle the couple for their interruption. Rather than let him get too worked up however, you decided to take action and gently eased yourself off of him with a soft groan, soon feeling horribly empty. Once the couple seemed to retreat again you made your move, grabbing the edge of the mattress.
He frowned at you, looking evermore confused as you gestured for him to get off the bed, but he complied with your order. Soon enough it was apparent what you were doing and he assisted, dragging the mattress off of the noisy frame with a thud. The further interruption had you both pausing, listening out for the couple’s return, but they never showed. They left you alone in the ringing silence.
“C’mon, looks like it’s safe,” you grinned, lowering yourself onto all fours
“Oh it’s like that, is it?” König snorted, watching you assume your stance.
“What? You don’t like doggy?” you asked, wiggling your butt at him teasingly.
“Didn’t say that,” he corrected, picking up the lube again and reapplying it generously to his swollen cock. “I just like to look at you… you looked so pretty when you’re getting fucked. I like seeing you cock drunk and broken against me.”
You twitched as he told you that, pursing your lips in a ridiculous show of chaste embarrassment. You both knew you weren’t that innocent, but hearing him say filthy things like that had you dissolving under his gaze like powdered sugar in hot water.
“Unfortunately you’ll have to be a little quieter now,” he sighed, finally coming down to kneel behind you. “I’ll miss those moans of yours.”
He sounded almost comically wistful.
“My moans-” you began, outraged at the idea that it was you alone contributing to the racket.
“Your moans and whimpers, yes. It’s - ugh - a wonder you ever…got called Sneaky,” he chuckled, cutting you off as he eased back into you. “You’re so loud and responsive for me. Can’t wait to hear you cum.”
You both groaned when he’d plunged his cock back down to the base - you from the sensation and the dirty things he’d said to you. Though, before you could make a rebuttal, or moan any louder, he curled himself over you, melding his stomach to your back while wrapping one of his big arms around, covering your mouth tightly with his hand. He had you secured against him, stuffing you full of him and trapping you with nowhere to go. Not that you’d want to be anywhere else.
“You like this, hm?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed, not able to get anything else out past his hand.
“Good. Because even if someone beats down that door and watches, I won’t stop fucking you until we’re both spent,” he warned.
You clenched hard around him and heard his breath of laughter as he felt the shockwaves of it.
“You’re so dirty!” he purred, beginning to slowly thrust again. “I love it.”
He didn’t take as long to work up to his punishing pace this time. You whined muffled moans behind his hand, but very little noise sounded around the room beyond the gentle squeaking of the mattress springs and König’s whispered growls that tickled by the back of your neck. He sent your body wild with the things he said. Every word felt as if it zipped straight from your ears and down between your legs, your whole body electrified with the pulsing thrill.
You feel so good around me, fuck, so tight!
Your body was made for me. You’re so perfect.
You’re mine.
You’re only mine, no one else can have you now. You’re mine!
You panted hard around him, could feel your breath ricocheting off of his fingers. The room felt like it was caving in around you, stars sparkling around your vision until you closed your eyes, embracing the fizzing sensation that grew from the back of your skull until it filled your head. The tight coil inside you was waiting to burst, you were ready to let go, could feel yourself crumbling over the edge.
After a few more hard thrusts König could feel you going, he could hear the desperate whining that escaped from his hand and groaned. He fucked you with purpose, lengthening his thrusts and plowing into you harder, catching your sweet spot and getting you closer and closer.
“Let me feel you cum...I need it. Cum for me, Come on, cum for me,” he commanded.
Somewhere down the line you obeyed and let go, seeing a white hot screen seer your vision behind your closed eyelids, and feeling the warmth wash through you in an explosion. You moaned out loudly even despite your haphazard gag and sighed as the fire drowned down to a tingling ache that was allowed to settle only after you felt König chase his own release, sloppily thrusting until he ground to a halt, growling out a strangled moan.
Both of you collapsed shortly after that, rolling onto your backs like two animals that had brought each other to mutual destruction. Pants filled the air, the smell of sex and citrus intermingling, breath spilling out uncontrollably while you both fought to regulate your bodies, taking in the sensations that still tingled around your centres as aftershocks.
You sighed and turned to König smiling when you caught his blissed out expression, you’d never seen him so relaxed before. His hair was messily splayed out all over his head, practically glued to one side as it had likely stuck together from your clawing fingers. Then when you cast your gaze downward, you could see that veins had popped up all over his arms, his whole body puffed up while his skin burned hot with effort. He was aglow with bliss and seemed so cherubic lying there all splayed out and relaxed.
“So that was pretty good,” you whispered, disturbing his rest when you came to cuddle at his side.
He mumbled something in German and wrapped his arm back around you, tucking his head in against yours. A breath of laughter rushed past your lips.
“Is it your turn to forget English now?” you teased.
He paused for a moment, groaning tiredly.
“I said that I thought it was more than pretty good,” he said after a moment, curling into your side.
“You’re right,” you grinned. “Best I’ve ever had.”
You could feel his lips twitching into a grin at that. König’s whole body resonated with the compliment, you could feel him getting puffed up with the praise. It took him a while to return the favour and tell you he thought the same, but he cottoned on eventually. It had you both chuckling, though soon you both came to a rest, relaxing in each other's arms and napping a little until König started to shift after a bit, drowsily making his way into a standing position.
You gasped when you opened your eyes.
“What?” he asked, turning to look at you.
“Your back,” you whispered, drawing your hands over your mouth.
König raised his brows in question and wandered over to the mirror, taking heavy clumsy steps over to it. He turned and viewed the damage, shoulder blades rolling as he inspected the thick scratches that had snaked their way down his body like he’d been attacked. He caught your eyes in the mirror and grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself in a way you’d never seen before.
“Thought you’d mark me up and claim me as your own did you?”
Next part here
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hi! how are ya? I just drop in your blog and I just sooo in love! I was wondering if you could write hcs of dating Gwen stacy from spiderverse? thanks a lot!!!
(sure I can! I must warn you though this turned into a fic.)
Dating Gwen Stacy
You guys met in her dimension
You guys had to be good friends before you guys even considered dating
It's either a slow burn, or a love at first sight she tried to avoid
I don't even think she knew it was love at first, she saw you, felt something and tried to stay away from it
But then she couldn't, and you guys took time to be one good friends
When she first noticed she had feelings for you it was awkward as hell
She didn't know what to do about them at all
Was staring at you as you talked, and tried to play it off laughing awkwardly when you caught her
But most of all she just wanted to be around you
Makes time the best she can even if it's for a little bit
When you guys did get together, it was hella awkward at first
She still didn't know what to do
It was a very slow process she needed to get comfortable with
But it was the absolute best when you guys got the hang of it
Cheek kisses, hand holding, regular kisses
I feel like she loves hugs from behind, especially surprise hugs because she instantly knows it's you
Doesn't matter who's hugging who from behind, she loves either way
She leaves a lot of clothes at your place
Because she is constantly doing quick changes she leaves clothes everywhere
You found out she was Spider-Woman
She did not want to tell you at all, especially because so many people thought she murdered Peter
So when you found out she was terrified, was about to leave as quickly as she could
She is the one to run away before she can get hurt, or leave before the chance to be hurt even comes around
You stopped her though, and she is forever grateful you did when you did
Cause she didn't know if she was even gonna come back
Sneaks into your bed after a fight as Spider-Woman
Or if something happened with her dad
She didn't talk, she just wanted to be by you in bed
She got so close to you every time because she wanted to know you would still be there when she went to sleep and woke up
There were very rare times she cried
But when she did, you were always there to hold her or comfort her or just be there while she cried it out
She secretly loved that
You guys are very much so teen love
You guys sneak out to see each other, run around the city, have no idea what you guys are doing most of the time but just glad to be together
Hiding out in abandoned places or on the rooftops of buildings are your dates
Or sometimes you guys will go to a cafe, but she likes small and little dates
A little hopeless romantic I'm not gonna lie
She can sit between your legs and have you play with her hair for solid hours
She remembers very small details about you
Like if you pick at your hands or nails, will hold your hands to help you out with that habit
You like some drink or some specific food?
She gets it for you everytime
Favorite color, animal, how you create to certain things, how you like your stuff arranged, she remembered every small detail
She is a very teasing partner
Doesn't outright say I love you even if she wanted to
It took a long time to say she did
Let's you steal her clothes while she steals yours
Your closets are just combined at this point
Will sit and let you mess around with her hair, she's just glad to stare at you with a smile when you do
Likes watching movies on the couch with you all the time
Movie marathons with just her head on your lap, laying down and you both throwing commentary at the screen
Kiss her forehead or her lips while her head is in your lap
Trust me. Do it.
Can talk about absolutely anything and everything with you
But the most important moments in your relationship are the quiet ones
Like when she shows up at your door, just standing there
Don't say anything and just take her in
Those are stuff that mean the most to her
You guys goof off constantly
Doing each other's homework in subjects one sucks in but the other is great in
You guys cannot take anything seriously
You were her absolute embodiment of her own vision of her own true love
She didn't think you would come along when she was going through tough times, but she's glad you did
She would've stayed with you forever
Would've
She had to leave you behind in her universe, she didn't want to, but with her dad, she did
She didn't see you for a long time, and your last goodbye wasn't meant to be a goodbye
She was in the Spider Society, and she refused to go back
One, because of her dad
And two, because she couldn't face you after leaving you behind with no warning for months
Until more shit went down with Miles, and Miguel sent her home
She had to face her dad, and she had to face you
You thought your eyes were failing you, dtsnding in your doorway.
You wanted to believe, you wanted to. You hoped for months this would happen, but once it did you couldn't move.
Gwen, your Gwen, stood in your room.
The Gwen you spent so long loving, comforting and holding when she and you both needed it.
The Gwen that left without a trace, with a goodbye that wasn't meant to be goodbye.
So you could only stare at her, watching her anxious face as you stared with a blank face, her eyes scanning you over in all the differences and similarities since she had left.
"I know. I know- it's bad." Gwen stumbled over her words, walking forward a step as she held her hands out.
"But- (Name)." Gwen tried once again, more panicked at your silence than your yelling or your words.
Gwen panicked even more as you finally moved, letting go of the door handle to walk closer to her.
"Look! I know you hate me, I would too!" Gwen kept talking, refusing to walk backwards as you got closer and closer.
"But I didn't mean to leave, honest!" Gwen stated, words faster and faster as you now stood right in front of her.
"Oh, come on! Say something!" Gwen exclaimed, your silence scaring her as you merely stared.
You stared right at her, never looking away as her face begged for you to say anything.
You merely sighed, a more angry and relieved one, quickly pulling Gwen into a hug, much to her shock, holding onto her like you would lose her.
Gwen froze, her arms frozen at her sides, hesitant to do anything as she felt your head in her neck, no sound but your breathing and no movement but the rising of your chest.
Gwen slowly, but surely wrapped her arms around your back, her own eyes filled with fear and somewhat comfort as she finally could hold and be held by you again.
"I thought you were dead." You finally spoke up, your words muffled by Gwen's shoulder.
"And I thought you would hate me." Gwen quipped back, holding the back of your head and her arm around your waist as she reveled in your touch.
"I do." You stared, both scaring Gwen and relieving her, knowing she deserved it, just confusing her too.
"Then why-" Gwen tried, confused as her words failed her, you pulled back from her hold slightly, able to look at her with more than a blank face.
"...I'm more happy you came back. I'll yell at you later." You stated, your eyes washing over her face, hesitantly reaching up a hand to hold her cheek.
You moved slow, Gwen noticed. Almost afraid and hesitant to touch her, like she was glass or that she would be gone when you did.
Gwen slowly nodded, sniffling herself as she couldn't help but give a small smile, her hand coming up to hold your wrist.
A lot of shit happened, Gwen knew that. And she didn't deserve to come back to you like nothing happened.
But Gwen needed you, she knew that.
And maybe, she would be selfish once.
Because she was back with you.
And Gwen missed you.
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“Little Girl to Little Lady”
Dads best friend! Miguel x Younger! Fem! Reader
Warnings : Cock Warming, Age gap, oral, mentions of masturbation (and slight but very little), dirty talk? Breeding king (per usual lmao) and I forgot what else but it’s sex so
Summary : Miguel and you have always been close… but even closer now
It always annoyed me whenever people would say “you grew up so fast” or “I remember you when you were just a baby”. It was even worse when Miguel O’Hara, your dads best friend, would say it. He didn’t say it often, but when it was a late night of drinking with my father he would always say it to me, almost as if he was telling himself. Whenever he said it he sounded like he was trying to reason with himself rather than just making small talk or being an emotional drunk. It wasn’t like Miguel and I weren’t close either. In fact my dad had always left me at Miguel’s house to babysit when I was younger, no naturally I looked at him as an important older figure in my life.
Well actually I looked at him more than just a supportive adult. To say he wasn’t an attractive man was a total lie. He was gorgeous, body chiseled like a greed god. He was the reason I even got sex toys and explored my kinks. Because every night he would plague my mind as I got older.
He was 20 when I was born, was married and had his daughter, Gabriella at 25. His wife passed 5 years later when he was 30. It was heartbreaking to see him and Gabriella in such despair and pain. Me and my dad had visited more often. I had felt the pain as well, especially as a 10 year old. Dana was a mother figure to me ever since my mom had up and left after I was born. Naturally this led me to help take care of Gabriella and be a supportive woman in her life. She lost her mom and I didn’t want her to feel the  loneliness that I felt. I was (obviously) 5 years older than Gabriella so when I turned 15 I was able to babysit her alone when Miguel and my father had went out. I taught her about body and how she would be changing, helped her dress up and learn makeup. It was almost weekly that our parents would come home and find us cuddled together, sleeping with a movie on.
When I had turned 19 it was a little harder to visit Gabriella but I was always a text or phone call away if she ever needed me. My connection with her and Miguel was still very strong, as they came over for “family night” often. Obviously Miguel and my dad would drink while forgetting about whatever card or board game we were playing soon after. Gabriella started to get tired, it was around 10:30 as I put her to bed in my room. Whenever she fell asleep I would always share the bed with her. That’s what led me, Miguel and my dad to be downstairs, still drinking.
I didn’t drink really, Miguel and my dad knew this, never offering alcohol unless I specifically asked for it. I didn’t have a reason to drink, my social life never landing me at parties. When it came to relationships, I was hopeless. I was usually into older guys and besides a decent fuck, I didn’t see myself getting attached to them. At the end of the day, I always thought of Miguel when they were on top of me. It was shameful but most of the time the guys were too horny to even realize I wasn’t moaning their name.
I sat next to Miguel on the big couch as my dad sat in the arm chair to our right. He smiled as he listened to my dad, looking over at me. That’s when I heard the usual.
“Seeing you take care of my little Gabriella reminds me of when you were younger. You’re much more grown now though. A little Lady instead of a little girl”. I laughed as my dad finished his drink.
“Well Miguel? Let’s look at some baby photos!” My laugh abruptly stopped as my face flushed. I always objected, saying that Miguel has seen me as a kid so many times already, that he didn’t need to see anymore or be reminded. They always laughed me off as my dad took out the book.
“Even if I took care of you then, it’s nice to be reminded. I may still see you as a kid but the pictures remind me of how much you’ve grown”. There was that tone again. The one where he sounded like he was fighting himself to reason. But to reason over what? That I was a growing into a woman? Or that he thought I still acted like a kid? I grumbled as Miguel finished his beer and flipped through the photos with my dad. Even though I objected at first, it was nice laughing all together about my funny photos. As the night went on, my father slowly fell asleep on the couch, a smile on his face. I shook him awake, helping him to bed. As I came back down I saw Miguel still flipping through the book. I sat next to him again, looking over his shoulder.
Then there was a photo oh Miguel, feeding me cake as I sat in his lap. We both looked so young. I was probably around 6 in the photo, his frame still much larger than mine. He sighed, sliding his thumb over his bottom lip. I looked at him, as he looked at the photo for a good few minutes.
“Uhm.. Miguel is everything okay?” He glanced over to me, face flushed. I had never seen him look that way. He put his bottle down, next to the many other bottles…. I knew Miguel could drink but when did he finish so many? While we were looking at the photos? Miguel definitely wasn’t drunk but he was positively tipsy. He put his hand on my thigh, running it up and down my leg. I shuddered at his touch. “Miguel?”
“I would kill to have you in my lap like that again”. He said unwavering. I felt the heat rush to my face as he said it, I looked away and shifted awkwardly.
“M-Miguel where is this coming from?” He chuckled and stopped his hand at my upper thigh.
“The only reason I’m able to say this is because of what I heard you doing to yourself last night”. My face drained. He saw that? How much did he see? I was face down, ass up with a vibrator, is he talking about that? Or is he pulling my strings? Did he hear me moan his name?
“What are you talking about? I was in my room reading.” I said, my voice wavering. I wanted to seem convincing, I really did but I was so nervous under his gaze.
“Were you? That’s not what it sounded like… or what it looked like.” He shifted onto the ground, moving in between my legs. His arms on either side of me, trapping me on the couch. I couldn’t move. I was so nervous as my body trembled. “Did you imagine me eating you out? Or maybe you imagined me fucking you, hm? You were so loud.. just for me”. He kissed my legs, slowly inching towards my inner thigh. I slightly opened my legs on instinct. He chuckled and didn’t move any closer. “Use your words querida.” He said firmly as I shook my head. This was too embarrassing for me. Even being below me he had so much control over me. He shrugged his shoulders and began to get up. I panicked and grabbed his shoulders.
“P-please don’t leave…”. I pleaded. No matter how embarrassed I was, I have been wanting this for so long, so painstakingly long. He licked his lips as he got on his knees in front of me again. Kissing my thighs again. “I thought about you… uhm well I thought about you eating me out” I choked out. He already knew that I thought about him, no point in hiding it. He smirked into the kisses and slid his fingers to the hem of my shorts. He unbuttoned and unzipped them slowly. Miguel looked at me for conformation and I nodded my head. He pulled them down and off my body, leaving me in a shirt and panties. He brought his fingers to my clothed pussy, feeling the drenched fabric.
“Ahh so wet already. Were you thinking about me today?”. I nodded my head as he looked up at me. “Why? Tell me what made you think about me”. I felt embarrassed again, hoping he wouldn’t be mad about the answer.
“When I was putting Gabriella to bed I thought about having a family with you… a-and what it would feel like to have you put a baby in me”. His laugh was deep as he put his hands on my lower back and pulled me closer to him. His lips hovered over my panties, kissing my heat through the cloth. I twitched from the contact
“Oh my… you’ve got more of an imagination that I thought. Would you want to be a mother? Have my babies inside you?” I nodded my head again and he snarled. “Words cariño.” His tone was stern, not making things easy for me
“Yes, Miguel”. He nodded his head in approval before sliding my panties down and blowing over my heat. I yelped as the sensation, his breath was hot, and it made my body shudder. “Miguel please~”.
“Please what?” He asked teasingly as he inched even closer.
“Please eat me out”. He chuckled and latched his lips on my pussy. He took no time sliding his tongue in. He lapped at my juices as I threw my head back, gripping onto the couch. I whimpered while biting on my lip. I didn’t want Gabriella or my dad to wake up. He moved his hands to my thighs as he prevented them from clamping on his head as he continued to eat me out. His tongue did wonders and he moaned into me, letting the vibration of his moan toy with me. He spread my thighs further apart, allowing him to go deeper with his tongue. I didn’t think it was possible but the sliding of his tongue left me shaking. I wanted to squeeze my legs around him so bad, I wanted him to stay right there.
“Miguel more please~” I whispered, I was so scared to release a moan that I squeaked out the words. I was surprised he even heard me as his hands moved to my ass, allowing me to close my legs. I felt the knot from in my stomach as he continue to tongue fuck me. My legs squeezed around his head as I came in his mouth. He lapped up all of it, licking his lips. I panted as he chuckled and wiped his cheeks. He played with my juices on his fingers, putting them up to my mouth and making me taste myself.
“Was that good? I don’t think any guy your age could do as good as me”. He stated proudly as I nodded my head, still dazed from the sensation.
“I’ve only ever fucked older guys… but no guy has ever done that for me in the first place”. He scoffed
“Really? So un-classy… good thing I’m taking care of you from now on hm?” I giggled at his response. He was really getting an ego boost from this. He moved me from the couch and brought me upstairs to the guest bedroom.
Him and Gabriella were over so often that it was pretty much his. The only problem was that it was right nexts to my dads, and the walls weren’t exactly thick either. I reminded myself to stay quiet so we wouldn’t wake him. “Rest for a few minutes. Im gonna clean up downstairs and then I’ll come back up and give you what you really want”. I nodded my head, feeling my pussy throb and clench on nothing. He walked out of the room, my body trembling thinking about him. I wonder how big he is…. I mean I’m already much smaller than him so he would probably stretch me out.
I let my fingers slid down to my pussy, gliding over it. I let out a breath as I slid my fingers in, toying with my walls. I bit my lip again as I finger fucked myself to the thought of Miguel. He was amazing with his tongue but his dick would be 100x better. Hitting every spot, reaching deeper and deeper… then coating my walls with his seed-
My wrist was grabbed and my fingers were pulled out. I gasped at the sudden emptiness as I saw Miguel over me, licking my fingers. I stared up at him, watching him clean off my digits. He cleaned up that fast? Or was I imagining him for that long?
“Really? You couldn’t wait 5 minutes?” I looked away embarrassed. He chuckled pushing me flat on my back. He took his jeans off and tossed them across the room. He slid his boxers down just enough. Miguel stood at the edge of the bed and pulled me towards him. I yelled as I felt my pussy press against his cock. He finally lifted up my shirt, unclasping my bra. “God you look perfect”. He stared at my flushed face, hair sticking out everywhere with lustful eyes. My nipples hardened at the cold air, perking up. He left one hand on my waist for support, the other hand lining himself up. I wrapped my legs around him as he lined himself up with me. I gulped. The most I’ve taken in is 5 inches, Miguel was at least 8 and his girth…. He pushed his tip in and I gasped.
He continued to push himself into me, my pussy stretching more and more. Tears brimmed in the corner of my eyes. He cusped my cheek and wiped the tears. “You’re almost there querida, breathe”. He got half way before my pussy clenched again. He grunted before putting both hands on my waist. He rubbed circles, trying to help me relax. “Mi amor please you have to relax or else I can’t fuck you”. The words ‘mi amor’ rung throughout my head. My body relaxed as I thought about it. I didn’t know Spanish but I knew that much. My face heat up as I brought my hands to my face. Mi amor? Would he call me that even if we weren’t fucking? Did he like me? I mean I liked him, hell I loved him. Did I love him or did I just want him to fuck me?
I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt his push the rest of himself inside of me, I moaned out loud before quickly covering my mouth. I wasn’t ready for it as he bottomed out. He chuckled as he brought his lips close to mine.
“What got you so distracted? It’s almost like you forgot that my dick was in you”. I blushed as he stayed in place, me basically just cock warming as he spoke.
“I- uhm…. You called me ‘mi amor’ and I started thinking”. I trailed off, looking away. I didn’t want to move or else I would moan again. His eyes widened at my reaction.
“(Y/N) look at me”. I hesitated. “Look at me now.” I turned my head and met his eyes. Before could explain myself he kissed my lips. But it was warm… so warm and loving. I kissed back, wanting to feel more of his passion. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. As our kiss deepened he began to rock his hips into me. I moaned into his mouth, letting him slide his tongue in. He took immediate control and continued to fuck me.
He bottomed out quickly, beginning to pound into me. “Listen to me (Y/N), wether I had you in bed or not I love you”. I nodded my head and whimpered as he continue to fuck me. He moved his hands to my breast, latching onto my left one with his mouth and playing and twisting my right nipple. I tried so damn hard to stay quiet as his balls slapped against my ass. If I spoke now I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from making noise. “Say it mi amor”.
“I- I love you too Miguel-mphm!” He shoved his fingers into my mouth, moving his to leave hickies from my shoulders to the valley of my chest. His tip hit every spot, I felt every vein on his girth as he continued to pounded into me.
“Yeah? So that means I can put my babies in you? Fill you up with my cum all night? You would want that wouldn’t you. For me to use you as a cum dump”. A ray of yesses left my mouth, said so drunkenly. I was so dazed from his cock I couldn’t think straight. The drool started to pour out of my mouth as he pressed himself deeper and deeper. He has so much stamina. He grunted as he watched my tits bounce. “Don’t be too loud… your dad might wake up”.
Miguel put his hands on my waist, wanting to let my boobs bounce on their own. Lewd noises filled the room as I saw stars, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. He staggered, my pussy clenching on every bit of him. A knot formed in my stomach as I continued to pant and whimper. It took every ounce of will power not to break and scream out his name.
I felt the knot burst as I came, a moan escaping my lips. A few more stores and Miguel coated my walls. I felt the heat fill me up to the brim. He hovered over me before pulling his cock out. He watched as our mixed cum began to spill out of me. Miguel pressed his thumb to my hole, keeping in as much as he could.
“Don’t want any of it to go to waste right? Or else we’ll have to do this again”. He was met with silence. Well besides my pants as I stared up at the ceiling with half lidded eyes and drool still lining down my cheek. He stared at my fucked out appearance and admired his work. He went into the bathroom (connected to the guest room) and grabbed a towel. He cleaned us both up before putting on a pair of boxers. He ventured to my room as he grabbed me a pair of panties. He looked over to Gabriella, sleeping soundly. He smiled and kissed her forehead thinking about how good of a mom I would actually be.
Coming back to the guest room he saw me sitting up, cleaning up my face and hair. We smiled at each other as he helped me put the underwear on. He gave me one of his shirts as it would fit like a dress. Although the sheets were slightly stained, that was something he would worry about another time. He debated his options. He could sleep and cuddle with me and run the risk of my dad seeing us or he could send me upstairs to Gabriella. As safe as it sounded he decided to keep me with him, wanting to be with the woman he just talked about having a baby with. It’s the least he could do after he just fucked you like that.
He pulled me close and laid down with me, spooning me from behind. I used his arm as a pillow, his other hand resting on my stomach. I smiled as I closed my eyes, painfully tired after our “little stunt”. He watched me fall asleep before kissing my head and closing his eyes as well.
OKAYYY SO IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR A FEW HOURS NOW AND IF YOU GUYS WANT A PART 2 OF LIKE THE AFTERMATH THEN JUST LMK! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED
If I do write a part two should I make the dad find out and have angst or basically keep it hidden until the reader is old enough to live on her own
PART 2 IS UP AND ITS FLUFF - I don’t know how to link it so bear with me please and just find it, it’s “Little Lady to Little Wife”
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i just feel like being itoshi rin's bestfriend is a whole new experience.
there is something about being rin's closest person that brings you a feeling of warmth and pride altogether. knowing each other for years, you were aware that the mighty itoshi rin was selective when it came to people he wanted to spend time with. sure, he had many friends, he was a professional player after all- but even he can't help but admit that nobody could compare with you.
maybe it's because to him, you aren't really a friend at all.
you're much more.
and he definitely does not want to admit that. so he does not.
you, on the other hand, have a hard time trying to figure it all out. one part of you thought in a more simple way.
he's just closer with me because we've known each other for so long, that's all it is.
and then there's the other part of you that is greedy and aching and yearning to get some sort of sign that he's interested.
you're not expecting much. this is itoshi rin we're talking about. he just doesn't do any of that stuff. it's crazy that you're even thinking about the topic of dating when all these years you haven't heard a single word from him about having a simple crush on someone. but again, this is itoshi rin. he doesn't say the things he doesn't want to say. he doesn't show the feelings that he doesn't want to show.
you scolded yourself every year for not getting over your little crush on your bestfriend. unfortunately for you, it went on increasing until your heart was overflowing with care and adoration for a guy who seemed absolutely clueless about romance and the wildly trending best friends to lovers trope in almost every recent book or movie.
in your case, the best friends to lovers trope feels a little less sad because rin never really showed any interest in other people.
oh, little did you know. but you're still glad that the person writing your story didn't pour the cup full of jealousy into your life.
it's almost comical how stupid the both of you are.
a hopeless romantic and her hopelessly unaware bestfriend.
the stupidity goes for a few more months. sneaky glances, touches that feel like a spark, those short words of affection that rin manages when you're at the lowest and oh, the birthday.
the stupidity finally stops at rin's birthday.
ten minutes left to 12 AM. you were trying to drive as slowly and as patiently as you could to rin's apartment. arriving early would just ruin the surprise. you needed to get out of the car when there were just 8 minutes left, so that by the time you reached the high floor of the apartment complex it would leave you with 5 minutes to prepare yourself and the box of cake in your sweaty hands, waiting outside his door. then you would enter when there's just a minute left.
only rin deserved this type of difficult and serious planning.
you felt the pride for being able to think so much and felt extremely smart for calculating this plan accurately. however, the feelings were quick to drain out and be replaced by nervousness.
he wouldn't be mad, no. you just didn't want to make him feel awkward.
rin never really made a big deal about his birthdays. that never stopped him from letting his teammates and friends from blue lock enjoy the day, though. every year, he booked some place they could spend time, eat, drink, party, whatever. he didn't care much, just watched bachira and isagi wreck havoc. as long as he had you sitting next to him, laughing at his friends' antics, he was okay. he also liked seeing you happy. his chest bloomed with some unfamiliar feeling every time you said that you were happy because he was happy.
one minute left.
you quietly entered with the spare key rin had given you.
for emergencies.
somehow birthdays counted, right?
the lights were off, and you felt a little dumb. it would be really embarrassing if rin wasn't even home. maybe even more embarrassing if rin didn't expect you to come at all and told you to go back home or something.
from the living room, you could still see rays of faint warm light making its way into the hallways, escaping through the doorway of his bedroom. judging by the low sound effects, you guessed he was watching another movie or tv show.
one thing your dumbass forgot to plan. how the heck were you supposed to call him into the living room without scaring him?
fuck it, you thought.
"rin, im home, come out here please." you tried, trying your best to sound as less alerting as you could, hoping you didn't scare the guy. from the way the sound of the movie quickly stopped after your voice, you grimaced.
quick, heavy footsteps followed as itoshi rin entered his living room. his expression was a mix between a scowl and a frown- a face only he could make. you paused before you could even try to explain.
paired with the handsome, annoyed face was the absence of a shirt.
what were you going to say again?
well, it didn't matter. rin spoke before you could even adjust to the unfamiiar view.
"what the fuck."
"uh, look-" you managed.
"no, what the actual fuck."
you pursed your lips in an attempt to put your mind to work, to come up with something- anything. those teal eyes felt vibrant even in the darkness of the living room with just more of the golden light from his room passing through- because of the bedroom door now being opened all the way. you shifted from one foot to another. he continued to stare, his eyes slowly travelling down to the cake you were holding.
"happy birthday."
itoshi rin, your bestfriend, exhaled.
two strides and he was standing right in front of you, expression unreadable, and maybe you were hallucinating, because in the slight darkness you thought you saw him smile.
"y/n, you're insane." he breathed out, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. rin's face felt a little warm when he realized how he looked in this situation. this is by far the most out of pocket thing you've done, in his opinion.
for you though, this reaction was somewhat better than what you'd expected. you bit your lip to hold back a smile and set the box down on the neatly kept coffee table next to you. "i might be."
it was already three minutes past twelve. but you didn't care anymore.
while you carefully removed the cake out and placed it on the table, rin turned the lights on, still not recovered from your sudden appearance.
"shit," you realized when the brightness of the light hit your eyesight, "i forgot the fucking candles in the car. sorry."
now as unbelievable as it sounds, it was rin's turn to hold back a smile as he muttered quietly, "stupid."
it was even harder to focus on the cake without candles in front of you, when itoshi rin was sitting next to you on the couch, shirtless.
silence filled the room, and none of you made a move.
why would you do anything anyway? wasn't it rin's job to cut the cake?
apparently, you seemed more interesting than the cake, because rin was staring at you instead. you stuttered underneath his gaze. "what, you want me to sing the song for you?"
he huffed, attempting to fix his hair so he could stop thinking about your sleepy eyes. god damn it. he didn't know how to deal with this, with the erratic beating of his heart.
"thanks. for this."
itoshi rin was malfunctioning. and you were the cause for that.
to that, you managed a genuine smile. it was nice to hear.
"it's nothing. i did it because i care." you said quietly, fiddling with your fingers, eyes focused on the cake. you don't think you can handle looking at him. it might tempt you to pour out all your feelings. you could save them for another day, just not his birthday.
the mess of your hair kept together by a hairband, your heavy eyelids and the nervous fumbling of your fingers, rin knew you meant more. you wouldn't do so much for him despite being so tired if you just cared. there was only one option he had, to show you how thankful he was.
you're out of your short anxious trance when his bare, strong arms slowly but confidently pulled you into him.
the shock doesn't last for long and you find yourself melting in his embrace, face resting against his shoulder as your arms made their way to his back, to hold him tighter.
the cake must be satisfied with this outcome as well because it doesn't complain as you both stay in the same position for quite a few minutes.
rin felt your breath against his collarbone and sighed.
"stay the night. i can tell you're tired."
you don't deny it, but still whisper, "let's eat the cake first."
he finally let out a soft chuckle, feeling relieved that you couldn't see him as he mumbled something along the lines of "that's why i love you."
wait.
did he say love?
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The Moment I Knew
*Part two
Summary: Spencer misses your 25th birthday and that’s when you realize your relationship can’t be fixed.
Word count: 800 or something idk ICBA shes a short one
Warnings: angst, Reid is a shitty boyfriend in this one
Note: hi this was written at 3 am and I’m new to writing so if this sucks sorry anyways but I got this idea from Taylor Swifts song by the Same name and I thought I would write it so yeah enjoy
Sure, you were so happy all your friends were there and everyone was having a good time… but you couldn’t help but think about Spence.
It was 10 pm, the party started at 8 and he still wasn’t there like he promised. You couldn’t help but think about him coming through the door right now, gifts in hand as he did on your last birthday with that baby I’m right here smile.
You knew he couldn’t be here, and you knew how much he valued his work, but, he wasn’t even on a case far away… he was here, in Virginia, and he couldn’t even call to wish you a happy birthday.
Your eyes were locked on the door most of the time as you socialized. People asked about him, about your relationship, and the most you could give them was a sad smile and a dishonest word about how great everything was going.
“So how have you been,” your friend Sarah said as she laughed and took a sip of her drink “I mean I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”
you plastered on the brightest fake smile you could and mustered up an answer just normal enough to get you by.
“I've been okay, you know, with work and everything.”
All you could think about was him, how he said he would be there. He told you- no he promised you weeks in advance that he would be here. But he’s not.
You felt stupid, standing there all dolled up in your tight black dress and red lipstick. You thought maybe if you dressed up nice he would make sure to be there, but then again, there you were with no one to impress.
You knew it was hopeless, there you were on your birthday staring at the door and watching the clock tick as everyone around you danced and laughed. You looked around the room, trying to spot him in the crowd but who were you fooling, you knew he wasn’t there.
As you listened to your loved ones sing happy birthday around you, you could only hear his voice in your memory. When you blew out those candles your only wish was for him to be there with you. You should’ve been so happy, but he was the one thing missing.
Then it was 1 am, and you were barely tipsy. you already had a nervous stomach, you knew drinking would only make it worse. By now you were sick of everyone being around you, you just wanted to be alone. You stumbled to the bathroom over some discarded red cups and locked yourself in there, tears burning at your eyes when you saw yourself in the mirror.
You did your makeup the way he liked it too so that if you sent pictures he really wouldn’t miss it, such a naive thing to think you told yourself. You heard a knock on your door and there were your two best friends, Tegan and Oliver, mixed with the emotions of seeing them staring at you with so much pity in their eyes and Spencer being away made you break down.
Tegan held you as you sobbed, mascara dripping down your cheeks with every tear.
“He said- he said he would be here…”
“I'm so sorry, love bug, I wish I could grab him and rip him into pieces. You deserve so much better.” Said Oliver, holding your cold hands.
You felt so embarrassed, sitting there in front of your friends crying about some stupid boy. But he was the one who meant the most to you and he wasn’t there.
The next morning you woke up on your couch, head pounding. Your apartment was trashed, there were plastic cups scattered all over the room. As you stepped over them to get ready for the day, you felt a sharp pain in your chest as you heard Spencer’s familiar ringtone playing from your phone.
“Hey doll, it’s me” he sighed on the other line of the phone.
“Hi, Spencer.” You mumbled. You knew it would hurt to say his whole name instead of the nickname you’d been calling him since the day you met him.
“I'm so sorry I didn’t make it babe I was caught up in paperwork and I lost tra-“ you interrupted his rambling, you didn’t care anymore.
“It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later Spencer.” You hissed into the phone before hitting the red button on the screen and setting your phone back down on the counter.
That was the moment you knew.
That was the moment you knew that this would never work out.
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