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wheresarizona · 3 months

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Learning to Live Part 32

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hadn't wanted one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Big tantrum?” Benito asked.

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

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

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

The other two men were smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What did he mean by that?

“What about you, Javi?” Ken asked.

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

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

He met the other man’s eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know—are you okay, baby?”

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

Oh, she was drunk and missed him.

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

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

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

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

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

He could tell she held the phone toward them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was already on the road heading toward town.

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

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

“Probably.” He shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Meh, you’re cuter.”

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

“Fine.”

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

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

His mouth turned down in a frown.

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

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

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

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

“Calling Javi,” Cielito answered.

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

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

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

“I need him,” she whined.

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

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

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

“Yes?” she answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, baby, I’m still here.”

“Where are you?”

“Maybe ten minutes away.”

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

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

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

What she said had Javier grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To your left.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looked so cute and it had him smiling.

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

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

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

“Oh my god, yesss!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that moisturizer?”

“Yes.”

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

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

Her bottom lip was trembling, and it worried him.

“You love me,” she whispered.

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

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

“You love me,” she repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?” he whispered.

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

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

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

“I mean it this time.”

“Uh-huh, right.”

“I do—this is embarrassing.”

“I think it’s good practice.”

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

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

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

His eyebrows furrowed. “Seahorses?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re definitely more badass than me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still feel sick?”

“Not really—just dizzy.”

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

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

“Okay, mi amor.”

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

“Yes, Cielito?”

“You’re worth it.”

“Worth what…?”

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

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

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

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

“And I can’t fucking wait, Mr. Peña.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She giggled. "Your babies will be spoiled."

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

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

"I know," you sighed.

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

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

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

She straightened and turned around to pick it up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sound of his voice had your heart beating faster.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we alone?" he countered

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

"Yep."

“You feel beautiful.”

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

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

Your eyebrows creased. “Orders? What orders?”

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

“That is insane.”

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

“It’s sweet and extremely intense.”

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

You smiled. “Gotta love loopholes.”

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

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

“Maybe both?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, mi amor?”

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

"Not as good as you."

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

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

"A beautiful mess."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm in love."

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

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

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just wanna know.”

“But why does it matter?”

“You’re deflecting.”

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is better…”

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

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

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

“Yes, Cielito?”

“I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married today, and I hope you like my dress.”

He smiled brightly. “I’m really fucking happy we’re getting married, too. I’m gonna love your dress.”

“I hope so.”

“Baby, you could show up in a paper bag, and I’d be blown away.”

“The bar is so low. Do you wanna feel what I’ll be wearing under the dress?”

The pink of his tongue quickly peeked between his lips, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

His timbre deepened. “Yes.”

You poked your head out the window to ensure no one was around, then loosened the belt, holding your robe shut. Taking his hand, you started at your shoulder beneath the silk, letting his fingertips graze over the bare skin, trailing them down to the lacy cup of your strapless bra. He couldn’t help himself and palmed your covered breast before you moved his hand once more to continue the journey downward, where he got to feel the smooth, stretchy material hugging your middle; you let his fingers find that the spandex covering the warmth between your thighs, too.

“Not very sexy,” you said. “Well, the bra is cute. The rest is so I don’t look lumpy in the dress or have panty lines.”

He was about to say something, but you spoke before he had a chance. “Yes, Javier, I know you love my natural body, including the bits I don’t, but I wanna look my very best, and that means Spanx.”

He was frowning. “Are they uncomfortable?”

It warmed your heart that he was concerned for your comfort.

"Not really," you answered truthfully. "They're like my bicycle shorts, so stretchy and breathable. Will it make you feel better to know I have sexier bottoms I'm gonna wear when I change into my comfier dress after food and our first dance?"

He didn't know what your wedding dress looked like, but he had seen the one you were changing into after it.

His free hand went to the window frame, feeling along it until he found where the opened window stopped and ducked his head under it. His face was close to yours, one of his palms still between your legs, the other carefully sliding up the edge of your open robe.

"I'd prefer you wear no panties," he rasped, pulling the silk off your shoulder. His mouth pressed to the newly revealed skin, the soft kiss of his lips and tickle of his mustache, paired with his hand on your pussy beginning to rub, had sparks dancing down your spine. "It's gonna make me hard," his words were muffled between kisses as he moved across your shoulder toward your neck, "seeing you in your wedding dress.” Your fingers went into the hair at the back of his head, his spare hand palming your breast. “I'm gonna lose my fucking mind hearing you say 'I do.'" He was kissing and nibbling at your throat now, the added friction of his palm at the crux of your thighs making it hard to think. "It's gonna drive me fucking crazy that you're my wife—my wife,” he repeated against your throat. “And I’ll be your husband—I already want you, but all I’ll be able to think about after we’re pronounced husband and wife is getting you alone, and if you’re not wearing panties, it’ll make it easier for me to lift up that pretty—“

“No, Javier!” Robyn interrupted, and you felt cold water mist against your bare skin, the spray bottle hissing near your ear. “Bad!”

“Fuck!” he yelped, his head narrowly missing the bottom of the raised window as he pushed back from you so fast you’d think he was burned. His expression had turned grumpy as he stood. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I promised your daddy I wouldn’t let you see her,” she said, looking mad. “But out of the kindness of my heart—” She pressed a hand to the left side of her chest. “—I went against my word to your father, and how do you repay me? By wastin’ time gettin’ fresh with your fiancée when I’m riskin’ your daddy bein’ madder than a box of frogs at me for not doin’ what I said I’d do—you’re bein’ real rude Javier Peña, exploitin’ my niceness and I’d appreciate you sayin’ your goodbyes, and bein’ on your way.”

His eyes were covered, but it was visible how his face shifted from grumpy to guilty.

“I’m sorry, Robyn,” he said.

“Apology accepted. Say goodbye, and then we gotta get back to work.”

“Okay,” he replied.

The other woman headed back to the en suite. Leaning forward, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to step toward you.

“Thank you for coming to see me or, you know, talk to me,” you told him.

He smiled, squeezing your palm. “There was zero chance of me waiting to talk to you until the wedding. I love you too much.”

“I’m happy you did, and I love you, too.”

He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know you will, and I’ll be there.”

Javi sighed. “I better go. Bye, Cielito,” he said and didn’t move.

“You’re gonna see me in a little bit—get going, babe.”

He sighed again. “Fine. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

This time, he quickly pecked the back of your hand and started quietly walking along the front of the house. You assumed he had taken off the sleep mask to sneak away.

You closed and locked the window, shutting the blinds and curtains, feeling happy that you'd be seeing him again soon.

It took some time to finish getting ready, as you wanted to look perfect. Robyn did a fantastic job on your makeup, and your hair turned out well. When you saw yourself all dolled up and wearing your dress, you almost couldn't believe it was your reflection staring back at you in the mirror.

The white, silky satin hugged your curves as it cascaded to the ground to pool around your feet, the fabric having some stretch to it so your movements weren’t hindered. The neckline dipped in a slight V, your upper back bare from under your armpits up, and thin straps went over your shoulders connecting the two sides.

With how the satin draped over your figure, perfectly fitting the contours of your body, then flared out below your knees, it had a Morticia Addams feel to it—change the color of it to black, add sleeves, and you’d find it in her closet.

Javi was right. You looked so amazing that he was absolutely going to get a boner when he saw you.

And wasn't that just the sweetest thing?

A man so in love with you he gets aroused even when you're fully clothed because he thinks you're that pretty. He was also the kind of guy who sometimes got too excited from a kiss, and you had to wait a little while in the car for him to calm down…

"What do you think?" Robyn asked beside you. She'd put on her dress—a lavender-colored, A-line, floor-length gown with ruffled short sleeves and a V-neckline that, as an added bonus, had pockets.

You met her eyes in the mirror. "That I've never looked more beautiful—if you ever wanted to get out of nursing, you'd be a fantastic makeup artist."

She smiled, her full lips painted in rose-pink lipstick. "Thank you, but I prefer doin' it as a hobby and bein' able to help my friends out."

"Well, thank you for making me look insanely pretty."

"All I did was enhance what was already there, girl—Javi's gonna lose it."

"I hope he does."

A knock sounded from the bedroom door, and without a word, your friend went to see who it was.

"Is it okay for Chucho to see you?" Robyn called from the other room.

"Yes!" you answered, and nerves started fluttering in your belly over what he'd think.

Within seconds, your father-in-law was standing in the doorway, where you faced him with a grin.

"Dios mío (My God)," he gasped, his hand going to his mouth, “eres tan hermosa (you’re so beautiful)!” His dark eyes behind his glasses started to shine.

He was wearing light grey slacks, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a tie in the same shade as Robyn’s dress resting against his chest from a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, his camera dangling from a strap around his neck; as usual, his long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

“Ese vestido es perfecto (That dress is perfect)!” he said. “Estoy tan feliz de que lo hayas elegido porque te ves increíble (I’m so happy you chose it because you look amazing). Javi se va a volver loco (Javi is going to go crazy)."

"You really think so?" you asked, looking down at your outfit.

"Oh, yes." He nodded. "He's not going to leave you alone. We'll have to get a crowbar to pry him away from you."

You giggled, looking at him. "Yeah, I have a feeling he's gonna be stuck to me all night."

"When isn't he?"

The question made you laugh. "Touché."

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to," the older man started, "but I went through mi amor's jewelry to see if there was anything I thought you might want to wear—it could be your something old—” You hadn’t figured out what to do for something old; your something new was the perfume Javi got you for Christmas that you saved for today so he’d have a scent memory. Something borrowed was Chucho’s land, where your ceremony and party would take place, and something blue was a garter from Robyn around your thigh under your dress. “—and I found this necklace,” he said.

That's when you realized he was holding a large, thin, black leather box in his other hand.

Chucho walked closer to you, holding it in a palm, while the other lifted the hinged top—the necklace was made up of many silver waves connected together, purple sapphires resting in each dip, that you counted seventeen in total. It was stunning, the metal and precious gemstones glimmering beneath the lighting.

"I gave this to mi Antonia on our twentieth anniversary," he told you. "We'd visit her family in Mexico two, three times a year, and always for Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). On one visit, she saw this necklace and fell in love with it—it's Taxco silver and known for its high quality; many pieces made with it are crafted by hand and marked, so you know it's real. She wouldn't let me buy it for her because she thought it was too expensive for something she’d hardly wear, but the way she looked at it, I had to get it for her anyway, so I did and surprised her with it on our anniversary; she yelled at me," he chuckled, smiling. "Then had me put it on her and covered my face in kisses." He sighed fondly. "I think if she were here today, this is what she would've chosen for you, too—if you don’t like it, we can go upstairs for you to pick something else out..."

"No, Pop," you said quickly, meeting his gaze. There was a lump in your throat at the thought he'd put into finding you this piece of jewelry. "It's perfect, and I'd love to wear it. Can you help me put it on, please?"

"Yes, Mija." He set the open box on the bathroom counter and picked up the necklace with the same care as you would a newborn. Turning so your back was to him, he had an end in each hand as his arm went over your head to get the silver and sapphires around the front of your neck, clasping it at the back. He stepped away, and you faced him again.

There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were soft. "Mi hija hermosa (My beautiful daughter).” The sentence had your breath hitching. “¿Ella es preciosa, no (She is gorgeous, right)?" he asked Robyn. She understood Spanish but had a hard time speaking it.

The other woman was beside him, grinning. "She sure is," she agreed. "A real stunner."

"I'm so happy this day has finally come." Tears were brimming on his eyelids, and he took off his glasses to wipe them away. "I just wish mi amor was here to see our son marry such a wonderful woman."

Your eyes were burning as you held back from crying. He'd put his eyeglasses back on, and you stepped forward to hug him, being careful of your makeup. His arms went around you, squeezing you back.

"I wish she was here, too," you said. "At least we've got you, the best dad in the whole world. I love you, Pop."

"I love you, too, Mija. Thank you for loving my son and making him the happiest I've ever seen. We're blessed to have you in our lives, and I can't tell you how much joy I feel that you've decided to take our last name; I think it suits you better."

"I think it suits me better, too."

“You’re gonna kill the grass if you keep walking back and forth like that,” the other man told him.

They were at the oak tree on the hill, and the sun was getting close to setting. Javier had his whole outfit on: a black tuxedo and bow tie, white shirt, and lavender pocket square—he’d borrowed a pair of his father’s golden cufflinks, and one of his mother’s violet roses was pinned to his lapel. He didn’t have a cigarette to calm his nerves, so he was pacing, but the comment had him stopping with a sigh.

"Are you wearing a hole in the ground 'cause you're being impatient?" Steve continued. "Or are you nervous?"

His gaze went to his best friend, who was standing in front of him holding a small, white, heart-shaped pillow adorned in lace that went around the edges—there were two golden rings, one bigger than the other, secured to the top of it by a satin ribbon tied into a bow. The older man was dressed in a charcoal-colored suit he regularly wore to work, with a new tie provided by Javier that matched his lavender pocket square. Nate was in a carrier on his back; the parents put the one-year-old in a onesie that made him look like he was wearing a tuxedo and some dark pants, the child happily chewing on a football-shaped teething toy.

His hands went to his hips as he frowned. “Both?” Javier answered. “I can’t wait to see her, and I’m nervous about saying shi-stuff—“ He quickly corrected himself with the children present. “—I usually save for when we’re alone.”

Steve was giving him a weird look. “My kids are here. This ‘stuff’ is appropriate for them to hear, right…? It’s not anything… lewd…?”

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not anything like that, you judgemental pri-prude.”

The blonde man’s free hand went up in a placating gesture. “Hey, you said you save it for when you’re alone, and y’all have stayed at our house—any time the two of you were alone, you… folded laundry.”

“Folded laundry…?”

“Javi,” Connie said to get his attention, and he looked over to where she was fussing with the purple bow in Olivia’s hair. “You know when there’s a big load of laundry that requires two adults to fold, and they have to lock the bedroom door so there aren’t any distractions.”

Oh, ‘folding laundry’ was their code word for sex—that was smart.

“Mom and Dad have been folding a lot of laundry together lately,” Olivia added with a quizzical expression. “I didn’t know it was so hard to do alone—the baskets don’t seem that big.”

Javier smiled, his head turning from one parent to the other, seeing they were avoiding his eyes and blushing—good for them, fucking regularly.

“It’s more satisfying to do laundry with someone, so it gets done quicker,” he said.

“Doesn’t seem to get done quicker,” she replied.

Steve cleared his throat before he spoke. “Anyways, enough about laundry—what are you planning to say that’s got you nervous, Jav?”

He stopped smiling and scratched his mustache. “Uh, like, lovey-dovey, romantic crap…”

His best friend’s smile grew into a shit-eating grin. “What, like, super cheesy stuff? Are you gonna read the poetry you wrote about her eyes in your diary or something?”

Javier ground his teeth.

"Leave him alone, Steve," Connie said. "In our wedding video, before I walked down the aisle, you were clearly figuring out where all of the nearest exits were in the church. It’s refreshing and sweet that Javi’s gonna be vulnerable in front of everyone for the woman he loves.”

"I was checking where the exits were in case of a fire!" Steve rebuked. "All those candles they lit made me nervous."

"If that's what you tell yourself." She didn’t sound convinced.

“I was! Why did we need to be here forty-five minutes early?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “I was really enjoying the food your aunties were feeding us back at the house.”

There wasn’t a chance for Javier to respond; the answer to the question was he wanted to show how eager he was to marry the woman he actually loved and avoid any chance of being late—it also was a ‘fuck you’ to the people betting against him at the bar.

"Tío, tío!" The three-year-old Stevie shouted, running up to him; he was holding a Ninja Turtle action figure he'd been playing with in the grass.

Javier smiled, his attention moving to the child, crouching to be at his level. "Yes, mi principito (my little prince)?"

"We match!" His tiny finger pointed at his little light purple bow tie over his white dress shirt. The kid refused to wear a regular tie like his dad, and the only way they got him to agree to the clip-on bow tie was by telling him Javier had one, too.

His friends weren't by any means struggling with money, but Javier and his wif-fiancée, sent them a check to pay for their trip to Texas, which included flights, lodging, a rental car, and clothes for the wedding since they wanted those at the ceremony to match—Olivia got a new dress and so did her mom in the shade of lavender everyone else was wearing.

The family had gotten into town the day before. Cielito and Javier had shown them around town and taken them out to the ranch where Chucho and Connie finally got to meet in person—there was a lot of hugging—and that evening, they all, including his father, went out to dinner. Today, he’d spent more time with his friends before they all needed to get ready, then they followed him out to the ranch to distract Chucho while Javier covertly went to see, or, well, talk to his bride-to-be—the sleep mask was Connie’s idea, and she thought them sneakily meeting without anyone knowing was incredibly romantic.

"We do, bud,” he said. “You look so cool." He gently patted the child's arm.

Stevie was grinning. "I'm gonna walk from Mommy to Daddy and give him the rings?"

The hill they were on wasn’t too steep; Olivia was fine with walking up it from the bottom—she was excited to do it. For her younger brother, it was too much for him, so Connie was going to stand with Stevie a little before the land evened out at the top to signal when it was time for him to walk to his father.

"Yes," he nodded. "You'll walk while holding the pillow with the rings and hand it to your dad."

"It's a special job?"

"It's very special."

"Sissy's gonna throw flowers?"

"Yes, flower petals."

"It's a special job, too?"

"It is. They’re both important. Thank you for helping me, mi principito (my little prince).” He ruffled the child’s dirty blonde hair, making Stevie laugh.

Javier’s primos, Sebastián, and his tía Rebeca's daughter, Angelita, were taking care of the videography and photography, respectively. Seb had the video camera Javier bought, and Angelita had her own gear since she was a professional photographer—when you had fourteen cousins on just your father’s side, the odds were in your favor, one of them could either help with what you needed or knew somebody who could.

Photos were taken of Javier with the Murphys when they all first got there, and then his primos told everyone to pretend they weren’t there while they got candids and views of the scenery—his cousins arrived together in Sebastián’s SUV.

“Hey, Javi?” Seb said as he walked toward him.

"I gotta talk to him, buddy," Javier told Stevie. "I'll be back." He rose up with a groan, taking a few steps to reach his primo. "Yeah?" he answered.

When camcorders first came out, they were big and had to be rested on the operator’s shoulder, but the one Seb was using, he held in one of his hands with the side pulled open to see the little screen that previewed what was being recorded. The younger man hit a button on the video camera to pause what he’d been doing. “Do you want me to interview people?” Seb asked. “Ask how they like the wedding, if they have any advice, that kinda stuff.”

"Uh." He thought about it and Cielito would probably enjoy that. "Sure.”

"Perfecto (Perfect)." Seb nodded, hitting the button to record again.

Javier immediately regretted his decision when the camera was put in his face.

“It’s your big day, primo,” Seb said. “How are you feeling?”

“Um, excited and nervous.”

“The audience would like to hear how you met your bride.”

Javier smiled, heat rising on his cheeks. “At the grocery store, in the produce department—I guess it was obvious I was struggling to pick out a tomato, and she came to my rescue and showed me what to look for.”

“What was your first impression of her?”

He scratched at the back of his neck while looking away. “Uh, that she was sweet for helping me out, and beautiful. I could tell she had a good, kind heart and—” he lowered his voice so the children wouldn’t hear him. “—no fuckin’ clue who I was.” He chuckled. “I was hooked from that first conversation; an instant connection—there was something about her that told me she was going to be someone important to me, and I’d never felt that with anyone else.”

“What’d you do for your first date?”

His immediate thought was what happened after the bar, and his face felt hot. “We, uh, went out for drinks.”

“When did you know you loved her?”

He looked at the camera. “Honestly? Our third date. We were dancing in her kitchen to “¿Y cómo es él?”—”

“Mi mamá loves that song,” Seb said.

Javier huffed, smiling. “All my tías do. So, uh, we were dancing in her kitchen, and I realized she was the woman I was going to marry. I could see us having a future and was picturing what our Sunday mornings would look like—which, they’re exactly how I imagined—yeah, I knew I loved her on the third date and that we were going to get married one day.” He cleared his throat. “When my dad tells the story of the first time he saw my mother, he says his gut told him she was the one, and I always thought he was talking out of his—ass,” he whispered. “But it’s real and crazy to know deep down inside that you’ve found the person who completes you—feeling that confirmed she was it and that I truly did love her.”

“I think I know the feeling you’re talking about, and it’s great.”

“It is, and at your wedding, I’m gonna grill you on camera about it.”

“Hey, your wife is gonna eat this up, and you both want kids; think about your hijos (children) watching this one day and seeing how much you love their mom on your wedding day.”

The thought of sitting on the couch surrounded by his wife and kids, watching this wedding video, made him soften to the point he was putty—he wanted it to be a reality one day.

“What’s something you want to say to the bride before you get married?” Seb asked.

“I love you, and today is the best day of my entire fucking life—”

“—Eso es un dólar en la jarra, tío (That’s a dollar in the jar, uncle).” Olivia interrupted.

She meant the swear jar.

Javier sighed. “Lo siento, mi tesorito (I’m sorry, my little treasure). As I was saying, mi Cielito, I love you, and today is the best day of my entire freaking life. Happy isn’t enough to describe how I feel about us starting this new chapter of being husband and wife, and I’m looking forward to our future full of love, happiness, and hopefully, a lot of kids.” He smiled big. “I love you more than anything, and I will tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).” To end the sentence, he blew a kiss at the camera lens.

In order to get to where Javi was, it involved Chucho driving you off-road, and the trip was bumpy; you sat in the passenger seat, and Robyn was in the backseat, and because your father-in-law was probably as nervous as you were about speaking in front of people, he held your hand the entire way.

The previous day, when you brought the Murphys out to the ranch, you’d taken them to where you were going to be wed to do a quick rehearsal on how things would go; Olivia was beyond ecstatic to be a flower girl, and Stevie didn’t really understand what was going on, except that his tío Javi had an important job for him.

Chucho pulled up and parked at the base of the hill with your door opposite it so you couldn’t get a closer look at everyone atop it. The butterflies in your belly were flapping around so hard you thought they might get out, while your mind was racing with what could go wrong like you falling—that was a reason you wore flats, but with how much of your dress touched the ground, there was a chance of it tripping you up. Or what if Javi’s handsomeness made your brain stop working, and you couldn’t speak a single coherent word? Something that has happened before. God, your heart was pounding, and you thought you might be having a minor panic attack due to your vision starting to tunnel—a small silver flask was held up in front of your face, the cap already twisted off.

“Take a drink, Mija,” Chucho’s soothing voice said. “It’ll calm you down.”

The man was a lifesaver.

You grabbed it, taking a big swig, and your face pinched as the whiskey burned down your throat—from the taste and smoothness, you recognized it as Javi’s favorite, which was top shelf, a little spendy, and probably came from the bottle your fiancé gifted his dad to thank him for his help in getting you to give the green light to start your family.

The effect the alcohol had on you was almost immediate, feeling all of the tense muscles in your body relax at the same time. Your father-in-law took the flask from you and knocked it back with a drink of his own.

“Robyn?” he asked when he finished, holding it up for her to reach.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she replied, accepting it from him to take a gulp.

“I couldn’t see Antonia before our wedding,” he said, his head turned your way, “or talk to her. We were kept apart at the church, and I was so nervous that I was shaking like a leaf.” He chuckled. “Not about getting married, but having to stand in front of so many people. It had to be minutes before I needed to go out with the priest that mi amor’s maid of honor, her best friend, found me to give me an opened bottle of tequila and a note written by Antonia that read, ‘Mi amor, un trago para el coraje (My love, a drink for courage). Yo también necesitaba uno (I needed one, too).’ And she left a lipstick stamp of her lips at the bottom, where she kissed the paper. I won’t deny it. I kissed where her lips had been and took two shots.”

The story made you smile.

Chucho had put on a jacket that matched his light grey pants, and you watched as he pulled something from the inside pocket. It was a small folded piece of paper that’d been ripped from the notepad he kept by the answering machine at his house to write down messages. He passed it over to you, and you unfolded it, finding Javi’s scratchy handwriting. You read what he wrote:

Cielito, You said you were never drinking again, but I think this can be an exception since you’re probably freaking the fuck out about embarrassing yourself like I am. I’m worried I’ll see how beautiful you are and forget how to talk, or my brain will stop working. Have a drink to calm your nerves, and know it will all be okay because we’re doing this together. I love you, Your husband

The note was touching, especially since he knew how you’d be feeling.

“When did he write this?” you asked Chucho, whose eyes you met, the man smiling.

“When he met up with Connie and all of them at the house before they came out here. I’d given him the flask when he got there as a gift, but he told me to keep it for you and asked if he could write you a message. It reminded me so much of his mother, I couldn’t say no.”

“Thanks, Pop. I needed it.”

“I know you did, Mija.” He patted your leg.

When Javier saw his father's truck in the distance, his heart rate increased, and by the time they parked at the bottom of the hill, his heart was beating so fast that he was sure it was going to beat right out of his chest.

With where he was standing at the tree and how the land sloped, he didn’t have a visual. Steve was beside him with Nate still in the carrier, Connie and Stevie, who was holding the pillow with the rings, had walked to the top of the hill and were looking down it, probably watching Olivia, who booked it to join the people at the truck. Seb was near Steve's wife and kid with the camcorder and a battery-powered boombox on the ground he was supposed to hit play on when Robyn gave him the signal.

Sweat was forming on his brow and on his palms. He turned to Steve.

"Do I look okay?" he asked his friend. "How's my hair? And the bow tie?" He lifted his chin.

The other man was wearing an amused smile. "Hair and bow tie look as fine as they did when you asked five minutes ago." He put a hand on Javier's shoulder and squeezed. "Relax, man—you look great. She's gonna love what she sees."

"I fucking hope so."

The sun had started its descent on the horizon and was the backdrop for the place they’d be standing; the sky where it met land was lit up in burning orange, bleeding into golden yellow where the sun was positioned, and high above that, it turned into a calming mauve.

The soft, melodic sound of a piano began, and it was Javier's cue to face the others. Christine McVie’s voice floated through the air as she sang the opening to the Fleetwood Mac song, "Songbird:"

“For you there'll be no more crying For you the Sun will be shining And I feel that when I'm with you It's alright, I know it's right.”

Seconds later, Robyn came into view, smiling while holding a small bouquet of sunflowers with a lavender ribbon wrapped around the stems. She shot her boyfriend, Sebastián, a wink as she passed him. She took her spot across from Javier beside where Cielito would be.

When he discussed with his wife-to-be the music for today, she only knew for sure what she wanted them to dance their first dance to, and since Javier didn’t object to it, she left what she’d walk down the aisle to up to him. He knew she’d hate the traditional “Bridal Chorus,” a couple of Elvis Presley songs came to mind, “No Sé Tú” by Luis Miguel perfectly described how Javier felt when they met and was a good option, “At Last” by Etta James would be appropriate, too, and “I Could Fall in Love” by Selena was in the running, because, Selena, but then he remembered this song on Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours—his favorite album, and for good reason with it having some of the band’s best classics like “The Chain,” “Dreams,” and “Go Your Own Way;” it was also seeping with palpable heartbreak of a messy breakup, except for the track, “Songbird.” It was a major tonal shift from all the angst with its pretty piano and Christine McVie crooning her love. What sold him on it were the lines:

“To you, I’ll give the world To you, I’ll never be cold ‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you It’s alright, I know it’s right.”

He loved it when he heard it played live at the band's concert twenty-three years ago—he’d been seventeen and still in high school; he and his buddies snuck off to Fort Worth to see them, and “Songbird” was the last song of their set before the encore.

It was his three-year-old sobrino’s (nephew’s) turn to walk forward, his mom sending him to his dad with the rings—they all laughed at how he ran as fast as he could, making Javier smile.

"Here, Daddy," the child said to Steve, holding up the pillow.

His father accepted it.

"Great job, kiddo—high-five." His friend had to bend a little to gently hit his palm to Stevie’s tinier one, and the toddler turned to Javier expectantly, who, of course, bent his knees and high-fived him.

"You did good, buddy,” he said.

Steve told his son to stand with him, and Connie went to be next to Robyn as everyone watched Olivia walk up, tossing red rose petals from a small white basket, leaving a trail of them behind her. He hum-sang under his breath along with the song:

“And the songbirds are singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before.”

Finally, his bride came into view, her eyes locking onto his, and all the love he had for, all of his happiness, and thanks he had to the universe for making this day happen overflowed from him, falling as tears down his face and made his smile so big, he could feel the dimple in his cheek.

She was breathtaking and better than anything he could’ve imagined; this moment would be seared into his brain for all eternity, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy in his entire life—he almost told Steve to make sure he didn’t float away.

Her bouquet was made up of roses from his mother’s garden, and his heart felt like it would burst. Then the dress—Jesus Christ, the dress was perfect with how it molded to her body and showed off her tits from the neckline V-ing between them. His fingers were itching to see if the fabric was as buttery smooth as it looked, wanting to explore the expanse with his fingertips, mapping out every curve, line, and dip he’d already ventured countless times before but now on a new canvas; He desired to feel her softness under his palms and cradle her beautiful face to kiss those delectable lips he so loved; he wanted to hold her in his arms, her familiar shape he knew as intimately as his own, pressed against him, where she belonged.

All of it was getting him too excited, and his pants were feeling tighter, just as he suspected might happen.

Javier’s dream wedding night would have them partying with their friends and family well into the later hours and holding off on consummating their marriage until they retired to the room he rented at the nicest hotel in town he was surprising her with. He’d been determined to do just that up until he had to spend the previous evening by himself where he was alone with his thoughts and ruminated on how beautiful she was going to look, that she was going to be his wife, and one day soon, the mother of his children; since she wasn’t there to distract him by simply being in his vicinity, he worked himself up until he was rock hard and had to take a freezing shower.

He didn’t see there being any chance they’d make it to the hotel without them fucking at least once beforehand.

God, she was so fucking gorgeous.

He had to wipe at the wetness on his face, his smile continuing to shine.

Telling her his feelings in front of everyone wasn’t all he’d been nervous about; his brain was a real asshole, and there’d been a tiny thread of worry she wasn’t going to show—it was stupid, to have even fathomed something so absurd, yet looking at how shitty his luck was up until they met, he thought it wouldn’t have been too surprising that this time he’d be the one left at the altar.

But she was here! She came! And he was so overjoyed he couldn’t stop crying.

Wait.

Oh, fuck, she was close now—what was he supposed to do? It only just registered that she was walking with his dad, and they were almost to him, and he couldn’t remember what needed to happen when she got to him. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and he was starting to panic that he didn’t know what his next move was, worried he was going to fuck it all up; it was unbelievable that he’d been in gunfights, had to think on the fly to stay alive many times, and put on press conferences, yet at this moment when there wasn’t any danger or eager reporters, he was so overwhelmed by the woman he loved’s beauty, and that she was marrying him, his brain had ceased functioning entirely, and he was spiraling at embarrassing himself with so many onlookers.

Javi was having a panic attack.

The change in his eyes, how they went from bright and happy to panicked, clued you in, and any nervousness you felt flew out the window because your only concern was helping him.

Unhooking your arm from Chucho, you held out the hand, not holding flowers to Robyn.

“Flask me,” you said. Quickly, she pulled it from her pocket and passed it to you, taking your bouquet in return. You stepped in front of your betrothed as you unscrewed the cap on the container of booze. “Hey, baby,” you said in a soothing tone. “You’re okay.” You grabbed his hand and put the flask in it, pushing it toward his face. “Have a drink to calm your nerves. Everything is gonna be okay, honey. Remember, we’re doing this together—it’s just us.”

The music had stopped playing.

He shook his head once like he was trying to shake the bad stuff out, and he took a drink, or several, with how his Adam’s apple kept bobbing.

“Looks like I’ll be driving us after this.” The adults surrounding you chuckled, and you smiled.

His hand lowered, and his vision focused on you, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No reason to be sorry—I freaked out in the car.” You took the flask from him, screwed on the cap, and handed it back to Robyn without looking. “Feeling better?” you asked, smoothing your fingers over his bangs while his eyes were on yours.

“Much,” he answered with a small smile, his palms moving to rest on your hips.

“Wanna get married?”

“More than anything.”

“Good—liquid courage helps.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek, then put your lips near his ear for only him to hear, “Say the word, and we’ll pack up, go party with everyone, and hit the courthouse tomorrow.”

He spoke softly in your ear, “Thank you, Cielito, but I promise I’m okay.” He kissed your cheek. “I told you I’d see how beautiful you are and forget how to function.”

You giggled, pulling back to look at him, taking in the black tuxedo jacket and bow tie over his crisp white shirt and the lavender pocket square and the pinned violet rose for a pop of color—his hair still looked good, and you rubbed away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.

When he saw you in your wedding dress, the expression on his face was something you’d never forget—it was a look of pure, uninhibited joy, and you were sure you saw hearts in his eyes with how they beamed his immense love and devotion. The way that it had him crying happy tears made you feel emotional that someone loved you with such magnitude. It’s why your immediate thought when you saw him panicking wasn’t that he wanted to back out, knowing from his note that he was freaking the fuck out about embarrassing himself, and the nerves got him.

“Let’s get married.” His head turned to kiss one of your palms.

“Let’s get married.”

Turning to your almost-father-in-law, you gave him a quick hug, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to give Javi a side hug, careful of the stuff held in one of his hands and whispering something in his son’s ear, you didn’t catch.

The elder Peña went to stand at his place in front of the tree, holding his worn, soft leather bible, with a picture of Javi’s mother stuck to the cover and a note card sticking out from between the pages to mark a spot.

Javier took your hand, and you both walked the few steps to your spots before his father; he grasped your other palm in his once you faced one another, Chucho on your left and Javi’s right.

Your husband-to-be mouthed, ‘I love you,’ and you silently replied with the movement of your lips, ‘I love you, too.’

Chucho cleared his throat, and your attention went to him.

“Welcome, loved ones,” he started, “we are gathered here today in the sight of God and each other to bear witness to the perfect union of Javier, and—” He said your name. “What a joyous day we get to share with them as they embark on this new journey of a life together in matrimony that will, no doubt, be long, healthy, and filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Mijo, Mija,” he addressed you both, “I called this union between you perfect, and I meant it. Besides my marriage to my dear Antonia, que en paz descanse (may she rest in peace), I cannot think of two other people more suited to share a life together. It’s clear the good you bring out in one another and how happy you make each other.” His eyes landed on you. “And you truly make my son happy. This might come as a shock,” he said to everyone in attendance, “but Javier is a smiley guy when he’s happy, and I haven’t seen him smile so much in a long, long time.

“He also has never been able to hide his feelings because that handsome face of his tells his secrets—it’s his—” He glanced at you. “—I’m stealing this from you, Mija—it’s his puppy dog eyes, he got from his mother, and she suffered the same problem.” His gaze stayed on you. “I know Javier loves you more than there’s blue in all the sky because he looks at you the same way mi amor looked at me, and as we know, their eyes don’t lie.”

He was right, and it made you choke up that he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such honesty and the weight of so much love.

Chucho looked at his son. “Your media naranja (soulmate) isn’t much better.” He nodded toward you. “Her eyes betray her, too, even when she does her damndest to hide behind a mask. When she looks at you, though, the truth of her love is revealed—her thoughts are loud when she stares at you, and sometimes I think I can hear them; the declaration of ‘I love you,’ she’s repeating over and over again. She looks at you like you’re her whole world, and I know it’s true from those looks, how she treats and cares for you, the things she does for you, even when you don’t ask, and the effort she puts into cultivating your relationship.”

He spoke to you both again. “Marriage can be wonderful with the right person, but it isn’t always easy; I want to take a moment and give you some advice that kept my marriage happy.

“Be best friends—talk about everything, even when you don’t want to or it’s a hard subject. Communicate your needs and wants constantly, and don’t stop talking to each other. Be best friends who share everything, and I mean everything, because your relationship needs to be built upon trust, and there’s nothing better than spending your life with your best friend.

“Keep having fun—joke around, cook together, dance in the kitchen, don’t stop having fun. And keep dating each other. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean that the dating stops. Go out, stay in, just have romantic time you dedicate to one another; that way, the spark stays alive. I know it’ll be harder to do when you have kids; you’ll be exhausted and won’t have much energy. Dating still needs to be a priority, and it doesn’t have to be anything exciting; it can be as simple as putting the kids to bed, staying up, watching a movie together, or baking cookies.”

“—or folding laundry together,” Steve interjected.

Javi chuckled, and you were confused. He leaned toward you to whisper in your ear, “It’s their code word for sex.”

“Oh, that’s smart,” you said as he straightened.

A furrow was between Chucho’s eyebrows. “I guess folding laundry can be romantic…” the older man said. “Now, where was I?” He opened his bible and pulled out the notecard, his eyes scanning over. “Oh, yes—anyone can fall in love; it’s nurturing that love, sharing your life with the other, facing challenges together, and growing as one that makes it real love, and what you have is real. The love you share and I had with my wife is beautiful, but it’s also fierce, it’s powerful, and all consuming; it’s not something anyone can get between and will live on even when you no longer walk the earth. I know you didn’t want a religious ceremony, but there’s a scripture I’d like to share that perfectly describes what I mean. May I?” he asked, his bible already open to the page.

Javier and you figured he’d slip in a verse or two simply because he was a devout Christian man. It was nice of him to ask permission first, though. You turned your head to meet your almost-husband’s eyes and shrugged that you were fine with it. He smiled, his attention going back to his father.

“Go ahead,” Javi said.

Chucho had a toothy grin. “Wonderful—it’s in Songs of Solomon 8 and reads: Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.”

He shut the bible with one hand, his notes resting atop it.

“I wish more people got to experience that kind of love—it’d do the world a whole lot of good. Javier—” He looked at his son, then over to you, saying your name. “I know with how you feel for each other, it’s natural to think marriage is the next step in your relationship. I want you to be sure you know what you’re getting into.” His eyes were moving between you both. “This is a lifelong commitment that will have its ups and downs, highs and lows, and you’ll need to challenge yourselves to love the other more completely each and every day. Are you ready to take this step?”

Without missing a beat, Javi and you said simultaneously, ‘Yes,’ your hands still in his.

Chucho smiled. “Wonderful. Javier—” His eyes went to his son. “—do you take—” He said your name. “—to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you honor her, cherish her, love, trust, and commit to her and her alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Javi said.

His father turned his attention to you and addressed you by name. “—do you take Javier to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor him, cherish him, love, trust, and commit to him and him alone, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever else life may throw at you both, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” you answered.

“It’s time for you to share the vows you’ve written for one another before you exchange rings. Who’d like to go first?”

“Me!” you said immediately, and everyone laughed. “I need to get them out of the way before Javi makes me a blubbering mess. Robyn, vows me.” Turning her way, you put out your hand, and she juggled the two bouquets she held to pull a folded piece of paper from her pocket to hand to you. “Have I told you your dress is amazing?” you asked her.

“Thank you—I look good and have pockets. What could be better?”

“Dresses with pockets are a game-changer.” You faced Javi, and heat bloomed up your neck and on your face at remembering you had to say how you felt in front of people.

“Hey,” Javi said to get your attention, and your gazes locked. “It’s just me,” he whispered. “Talk to me—no one else is here.”

“Right.” You smiled, then focused on the lined notebook paper you unfolded that had your writing on it. “Javier Jesús Peña López,” you began, “the first of his name, King of my heart, Lord of our tiny apartment, and Protector of me—”

“Just Javi’s fine,” he said.

You giggled. “Javi, not a day goes by that I am unaware of how lucky I am to have found you. When I think about how much time you spent away from this town—that I both love and hate—all the people you’ve met, the life you’ve lived, and the things you’ve gone through, it’s a miracle our paths crossed, and possibly Divine Intervention or the universe doing me a solid, that after everything that’s happened to you, you’ve ended up here, with me.

“It’s crazy the number of obstacles we’ve had to face together and how many people are obsessed with making your life difficult—this isn’t me complaining. I’m weirdly thankful for it; it’s kept us on our toes and tested our bond. It’s improved our communication and has built a strong foundation for our relationship.

“Something I’m also thankful for is the trust we share. I can count on you. I know you’re true to your word, and I have no reason to worry about you ever being deceitful.

“What’s also reassuring is your star signs back up the faith I have in you—as a Sagittarius, you value honesty, and when you find someone you think is really worth it, you commit, and you commit hard. With Capricorn and Scorpio in your top three, you’re super loyal, a little possessive, and definitely a relationship guy. To sum all of that up, you’re pretty much perfect and an amazing partner.

“You’re a good man, the best I’ve known. My life is better with you in it. Thank you for loving me.” Tears started to distort your vision, the emotion coming through in your voice. “Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for your unwavering support and for being my rock. Thank you for being my protector and making me feel so safe with you. Thank you for being my best friend and the love of my life.”

You had to take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Here are my promises to you,” you said, “I promise to love you until the end of time, and if I happen to go first, haunt you until we can be together again.” He chuckled. “I promise to be your protector and to always have your back; I will go to battle for you in a heartbeat, and hopefully, you know that. I promise to be honest, and it should go without saying because, as we’ve established, you’re perfect, but I promise to be faithful. I promise to keep making you laugh and smile. I promise to put you first and to always be your best friend—sorry, Steve.”

“You can have him,” Steve replied, and everyone laughed.

You continued speaking, “I promise to make your mother’s tamales a couple times a year—I promise to make you one of her other recipes on the days you miss her particularly bad. I promise to keep reminding you that you’re sexier and better than Harrison Ford.” That one made him and the others crack up. “I promise to rap “Whatta Man” for you every time it comes on, so you don’t forget whatta man you are. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen every chance we get. I promise to try, keyword here, try, not to recite the movies word for word when we watch Star Wars or Addams Family Values. I promise to always make sure we don’t run out of limes or your hot sauce or side-eye you when you put either on the perfectly seasoned food I made. I promise to always leave you the last of the ice cream because you’re a dirty liar when you say you don’t want it. I promise to tell you I love you every day until the day I die. I promise that you and your love will always be enough, and I’ll always pick you; I’ll always choose you over anyone else.

“Today, the separate books of our lives have come to an end, and we’re starting the next one together—I can’t wait to see what each new chapter will bring. What I know for sure—” You glanced over at Chucho. “—I’m stealing this from you, Pop—” Your eyes went to Javi’s, and his were reddened, his face glistening from crying and flushed from the alcohol. “—What I know for sure,” you said, “is this new adventure we’re beginning, will be filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

“Javi, you are my person. You’re the love of my life, my one true love, mi media naranja, the person I want to go to sleep with every night and wake up with every morning. You’re my best friend and my forever.

“I love you, Javier Jesús Peña López and I am so happy I get to spend eternity with you.”

His smile was big enough his dimple was showing and you hated that you couldn’t kiss him.

Chucho sniffled, putting his bible under his arm to get his handkerchief from his pocket, lifting his glasses to wipe away his tears.

“That was beautiful, Mija. When you’re ready, Javi, go ahead.”

All she said had Javier feeling so unbelievably happy that he couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears streaming down his cheeks, and he thought his smile might be permanently stuck on his face—he was sure the alcohol wasn’t helping him to keep his composure.

His dad’s speech had gotten him, too, especially about how Chucho could see her feelings for him and said their love was real. He always wondered if the intensity of what he felt for her was normal, and hearing that his parents were the same way reassured him that they just had a strong connection. His father’s advice was helpful, too, and he planned on following it.

She looked incredible and smelled amazing; her perfume wasn’t one she’d worn before, but he knew the scent because he got it for her as a Christmas present—it was intoxicating, and he was dying to shove his face into her neck to drown himself in it. With the emotions she was eliciting from him, her beauty, the perfume, and the whiskey he drank, it was a heady combination that had him feeling buzzed, and he was so caught up in all of it that it had completely slipped his mind that he had to speak.

“Shit,” he said under his breath and barely pulled open the left side of his jacket to get into the inside pocket. First, he grabbed his reading glasses, which he put on, then the folded piece of yellow, lined paper he’d taken from a legal pad at work.

“I am literally the luckiest woman in the world,” Cielito said, and his eyes lifted to her. She was smiling, her eyelashes wet, and she looked incredibly delighted.

“The glasses?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered. “You’re spoiling me. I get glasses Javi in a tuxedo, and he’s gonna say pretty, romantic things about how much he loves me—talk about the best day ever.”

“With how you look?” he said. “It’s my best day ever, too.”

She playfully smacked his arm. “Stop it, don’t make me want to suck—”

Robyn started coughing loudly, and his wife-to-be’s eyes widened.

“—hug you more,” she tried to save and cringed. “Hugs, not drugs, am I right?” She chuckled nervously.

He snorted, shaking his head. “You ready?” he asked.

“Wait.” Her upper body twisted so she could look behind her. “Tissue me,” she said to Robyn, and her friend got a clean one out of her pocket and exchanged it for Cielito’s folded paper. She faced him again. “Okay, I’m ready. Remember to focus on me. No one else is here.”

“That’ll be easy.” He cleared his throat, his eyes moving to what he’d written. It wasn’t something he said often, but he let her first name slide off his tongue, thinking how perfect it was going to sound paired with his last. “—mi Cielito, mi amor, mi alma, mi media naranja, y ahora, mi esposa (My Cielito, my love, my soul, my soulmate, and now, my wife), my life didn’t begin until the moment I met you; what I mean by that, is I was alive, yes, I was breathing, I had a pulse, but I didn’t start living until we met. You made me want to live and be happy—for so long, I thought I would die miserable and alone, and you showed me that I deserved happiness and to be loved.” His eyes were burning, and the following sentence made him choke up. “You showed me I deserved a family of my own.” Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I thank the universe, the powers that be. I thank whoever let you find me because I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

He went off script to look into her beautiful, teary eyes. “Pop was right; I love you more than there’s blue in the sky, I love you more than there’s water in all the depths of the oceans, I love you more than there are stars in the entire galaxy—I love you more than anything, and I mean anything.”

He focused on what he’d written again. “I once told you I didn’t believe in true love, and I didn’t—that was just made-up stuff in the cartoon movies I watched with Olivia. Or at least I thought it was before you, and then, having you in my life, I discovered it was real. With you, ‘media naranja (soulmate)’ isn’t just a term of endearment; it’s an acknowledgment that you’re my other half and that we’re two parts meant to be together. Love with you transcends what most people have; we feel it deeper than our bones, all the way down into our souls, where we’re connected.

“Our love is true love.”

Wetness was dripping from his eyes to splatter onto the paper.

“Those fairytale movies got something right, and it’s that this kind of love would make a person fight dragons and sea witches for their true love. As my father said, it’s fierce, powerful, and all-consuming. It doesn’t end when our hearts stop beating; it continues on—it’s infinite—what we feel for one another is more than a single life can handle, and I’ll follow you when this one’s over; we’ll find each other again, and live another life together because there is no me without you or you without me.

“From the first day we met, I knew you were special. We spent hours talking in that bar, and I’ve never felt such peace or so comfortable with someone; with you, I don’t have to keep my guard up. I can be vulnerable, speak what’s on my mind, and openly show my affection. With you, I’m safe, and from the first night, you were my Cielito, my little heaven—there’s no better name for you, not with how happy you make me, how you make me feel, and how much better my life is with you.

“You’re my little heaven, mi Cielito, my everything. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known—thank you.” His voice faltered, and he had to wipe at his eyes as best he could beneath his glasses. “Those two words aren’t enough to express my gratitude, and I will spend every waking moment showing you how thankful I am for you and all you’ve done.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, “it’s not enough, but thank you.”

He sounded gravelly, the words thick. “In you, I’ve found love, a wife, a partner for life, a best friend, an incredible lover, a home, a teacher to show me how to live; someone who makes me happy, makes me laugh, someone to have a family with, who supports me, inspires me, and makes me want to be a better man.

“Thank you for being all of this and more. Thank you for marrying me today and making me the happiest man in the entire goddamn universe.

“Fuck,” he breathed, taking off his readers to hold with the paper while his other hand scrubbed away the tears. “I really hoped I wouldn’t cry this much—it’s embarrassing.”

“I love it,” she reassured. “It just shows you really mean what you’re saying.”

He put the lenses back on and looked at her, seeing her eyes were red from crying, the tissue in her hand stained with mascara—she’d managed to keep from ruining the rest of her makeup.

“I do mean it all,” he said.

She was smiling. “I know.”

Javier composed himself by taking a deep breath and clearing his throat. Finally, he was ready to speak again. “It was hard figuring out my vows because I wanted to promise you everything your heart could possibly desire, but Pop said that was boring.” He frowned.

“And that he needed to do better,” Chucho added.

Javier sighed.

“I would’ve been fine with that vow,” Cielito said.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Pop was right. You deserve the best.” He took another deep breath and slowly let it out, looking at what he’d written and patting himself on the back for making notes—he was definitely too emotional and tipsy to have remembered everything he wanted to say. “Cielito,” he started, “you have all my love and devotion, and I give you myself; my mind, body, and soul belong to you. I vow to never stop loving you, even when this earth is no more and the stars stop shining. I vow to make you feel loved and cherished until the end of my days. I vow to always be your best friend, your confidant, your shoulder to cry on, y un chismoso contigo (and a gossiper with you)—me encanta chismear contigo (I love to gossip with you).”

She giggled, and he smiled.

“I vow to be your equal in everything and give more than I take. I vow to always be there for you no matter what, in sickness and health, when life is easy and hard, I’ll stand by you and be your anchor.” The next one made his smile get bigger. “I vow to treat you like una reina (a queen) and be the best husband you could ask for so when you brag to your girlfriends, they can see their worth and deserve to be treated like queens, too. I vow to be the best father, one you can rely on, and doesn’t call watching my own children babysitting; I’ll pull my weight, I’ll never let you get overwhelmed, and I’ll be an active parent who loves our kids so fu-freaking much.”

“I vow to keep you safe and always make you feel safe; I’ll protect you and our children with my life. I vow to make sure all of your needs are met.” He smirked, glancing at her. “I vow to ‘fold laundry’ with you whenever you ask.” He winked, and she laughed.

“Why are adults so obsessed with laundry?” He heard Olivia ask.

“I’m wonderin’ the same thing, kiddo,” Robyn said. “I’m not obsessed with it.”

“Oh, believe me, you are,” Connie replied.

“I know the stars,” Javier said, “that astrology stuff you love, told you this already, but I want you to hear it from me, too: I vow to be loyal to you and faithful, always—to me, you are the only woman I see, or will ever want; I vow to put you and our family before all else.”

He looked at her with a smile. “I have some more things I’m gonna promise after hearing yours. I vow to always give you my pickles.” Her grin was big and happy as she giggled. “I vow to always let you sing Freddie Mercury’s parts in Bohemian Rhapsody while I do the guitar solo, and I’ll always leave you the last piece of cheesecake because I love you and value my life.” That made her giggle harder. “I vow to try, the keyword here is try, to not, as you put it, ‘creepily watch you while you sleep,’ even though you’re guilty of the same thing.” Her giggles transformed into laughter. “I vow to always dance with you when we’re cleaning the house and in the kitchen while we cook together. I vow to pretend—I mean, agree that you’re the best driver in Laredo and always know your way around, even when you don’t.”

There was a reason he drove them the majority of the time.

“Rude!” she gasped. “I’m an amazing driver!”

“I agree, mi amor, you’re the best in Laredo.” He winked again, folded his paper, and put it back in his inner pocket. He spoke as he took off his reading glasses. “There’s one more thing I vow,” he said, putting the lenses away. His hands were free and he grabbed hers, ignoring the tissue clenched in one of her palms, and stared adoringly into her eyes. “I vow that years from now—decades—after our kids are grown, and we’ve retired, maybe we’ll be living in Florida like other retirees, or we’ll still be here where our family lives and we made our best memories; I vow that when we’re old and grey and can’t hear or see shit without hearing aids or glasses, that we’ll look back on our life together, and we’ll have no regrets.

“Zero,” he said.

“We did everything we wanted and lived the life we shared to the fullest, filled with love, happiness, and laughter.”

Her shoulders started to shake, and she had to let go of his hand to blot at her eyes.

“Javier!” she cried, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. “Why would you end with something so sweet?”

“Para que sepas cómo nuestro futuro será (So you know what our future together will be like). Quería que vieras que cuando me des ese anillo, te daré mi futuro y lo que venga después de eso (I wanted you to see that when you give me that ring, I’ll give you my future and whatever comes after that).”

She leaned back to look at him, and he was impressed that only her mascara had gotten messed up. She poked him in the chest and said, “That ring is going on your finger right this second.” Javier chuckled as her head turned to his dad. “Can we do the rings now, please?”

Chucho laughed. “Yes, Mija, you can do the rings. Who has them?” he asked aloud.

“Me!” Steve answered and moved to stand next to the older man, being careful not to bump Nate, who’d fallen asleep in the backpack carrier. At some point, the three-year-old Stevie had gone over to his mom and was now sitting in the grass next to her, eating Goldfish crackers out of a plastic baggy from the diaper bag near them. Steve untied the ribbon keeping the gold bands secured, then picked them both up, the pillow getting shoved under his arm. “Here, Jav.” Javier turned a little, holding out his palm to his friend, and her ring was set in it. He faced his bride again.

“At this time, they will exchange rings,” Chucho said, holding his bible in front of him with the notecard atop it. “Javier, go ahead and place it on her finger.” She looked adorably giddy, presenting her left hand to him, and he held it in his palm as he slid the band onto the finger with her engagement ring, pressing it against the other. “Now, repeat after me,” his dad said, reading his notes, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

Javier’s eyes fastened onto hers, and he repeated what his father said: “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving husband forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.” When he finished speaking, he lifted her hand to press his lips to the new addition on her finger with a kiss, keeping his gaze on her watery one.

“I love you,” she told him.

His thumb rubbed over the gold as he lowered her arm. “I love you, too.”

“Mija,” Chucho said, “it’s your turn.”

Javier held his hand out for her to take, and when she did, goosebumps rose on his skin, practically vibrating from anticipation. Her palm was smaller and softer than his, and he watched as Steve passed her the remaining ring. A big smile formed on his face at her not waiting for his father’s instruction, putting the band onto his finger immediately—it got stuck on his knuckle, and she had to wiggle it a little to finally slide it home.

“Repeat after me,” Chucho said, “‘with this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

She held his larger palm in both of her smaller ones, gazing into his eyes and smiling as she said, “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your loving wife forevermore, and just as it has no end, neither shall my love for you.”

His breath hitched as he watched her raise his hand to kiss the band, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

His father started speaking to them, “Now that you’ve proclaimed your love for one another and exchanged rings as a seal of the promises you made today in front of these witnesses and myself, by the power vested in me by the great State of Texas, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife! Javier, you may now kiss your bride!”

There was clapping and hollering, someone patted his back, and Javier didn’t waste any time—he was told he could finally kiss this stunning woman in front of him, who he loved more than anything; she completed him and made him happy like no one else—ella es su vida (she is his life), su amor (his love), su media naranja (his soulmate), finalmente su esposa (finally his wife), his Cielito.

The fingers of one of his hands traced over the familiar line of her jaw, the other pulling her tight to his chest, finding the fabric of her dress was as buttery soft as he suspected. The sun had barely sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky fiery in its wake, and as it descended, so did Javier’s mouth onto hers, crushing his lips to hers. At the first touch, it felt like electricity was thrumming just below his skin, his heart racing, the press of her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck making tingles wash down his spine.

It was almost like he was kissing her for the first time, and it started out gentle, wanting to savor this moment with his wife—his wife—they were married. He was a husband and wearing a ring, the metal currently pressed to the warm skin of her cheek. His excitement got the better of him, and he deepened the kiss, licking in her mouth, her soft moan causing arousal to erupt in his belly, feeling blood begin to rush to his groin. She seemed to be just as ravenous as him, their tongues tangling and her hands gripping handfuls of his hair.

Javier didn’t think he could be happier than he was at this moment.

This was the best day of his entire fucking life.

He was a married man with an amazing wife and their lives were intertwined now, becoming one they both shared. What wound him up even more was her taking his last name—not in a possessive way, but because it was another thing they’d share, and Javier wanted to share everything with her. Name, life, home, things, children, all of it, he wanted to have and with her by his side.

His dad’s voice showed amusement when he heard him speak. “We’ll just let them get that out of their system.” People laughed. “It’s my great pleasure to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Peña!”

Mr. and Mrs. Peña.

Nothing sounded more perfect.

They hadn’t stopped kissing, too caught up in each other.

“Why are they trying to eat each other’s faces?” Olivia asked, clearly confused.

Steve shouted, “Cover her eyes, Connie!”

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

a/n: The song she walked down the aisle to was "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac. The bible verse mentioned is Song of Solomon 8:6-7 (RSVCE).

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #Javier Peña/you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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wynnyfryd · 3 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU pt. 55 (12.2)

part 1 | part 54 | ao3

A cop picks him up just outside Dinwiddie, two and a half miles from where he left his car on the side of the road. She’s plump and squat, with red hair and a midwestern accent, like Mrs. Henderson if she grew up in Minnesota.

“Wisconsin,” she corrects. “Hop in, I’ll take you to Lorraine’s.”

“Thanks, Officer…?”

“Greene.”

Steve accepts the offer because his fingertips are so cold they’re starting to burn through his leather gloves, and as she drives them to the diner in town he explains the flat tire — debris flying off an eighteen wheeler, a crazy loud clang followed by a flapping thud-thud-thud, the smell of burnt rubber as he eased onto the shoulder only to remember that he never replaced his busted tire jack.

“Coulda been worse,” Officer Greene shrugs, looking at him with a small grin and tapping a gloved finger against her temple. “Coulda hit ya in the noggin.”

“True," Steve chuckles, "could’ve gone four for four on the concussions.” He has to cover his laugh with a fake cough because he gets a flash of concerned crazy eyes in response, which is pretty fair, actually. Sometimes he forgets the details of his life all sound insane. “Uh. Sports," he amends. "I play— yeah.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. Steve watches the woods, the shadows reaching like blunt fingers over the hills, and the snow turns to freezing rain and pools in all the potholes as they splash down the sad main street, past a junkyard and an old schoolhouse, past boarded-up windows and short, stubby buildings full of failing small businesses. Lorraine’s is a hole in the wall at the end of a neglected strip, half the bulbs on the sign blown out so it just reads Rain’s in flickering yellow light, and Steve thinks that's fitting because this place is shit. This place is shit, and he feels like shit, and he’s going to have to drive home to his shitty trailer and see Eddie’s van parked across the street or maybe it still won't be there at all and he— he fucking—

"Easy," Officer Greene says. "You'll chew a hole through your lip doin' that." She parks the car and turns to him, squinting. "You okay?"

Steve pinches the end of his nose.

In the diner, she slides into the booth opposite him and insists on buying him coffee and a short stack, because, "Well, no offense, young man, but you seem like you may be goin' through it a bit."

Steve winces over his coffee, cradling the warm cup with both hands. “Yeah, well,” he sniffs, “my, uh…" Your what, exactly? "I got dumped.”

He doesn’t know why he gives her the details — the empty bed, the sticky note. Sorry. Something in her eyes makes him feel like he can trust her, and when they finish their meal she reaches over and lays a hand over his. Tells him it sounds like he’s got a lot of other people who love him; tells him he should think about giving one of them a call.

With a lump in his throat and fresh tears in his lashes, he fishes quarters from his pocket and trudges over to the phone. Dials one of the few numbers he knows by heart.

“Hello,” Claudia greets, “Henderson residence.”

A truly ugly noise escapes him, wet and thick with phlegm.

“Hello?” she tries again. "Dusty, is that you? Are you okay?"

Steve’s not about to cry where all the waitresses can see. “Hey, Ma,” he croaks when he feels like he can breathe. “It's Steve. Can I... do you mind if I stay with you for a bit?”

—

part 56

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #trailer park steve au #my writing #my fic

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cobaltperun · 15 days

Note

lorraine gets horny at 3am? (male reader pls)

3AM Needs

Lorraine Day x Male Reader (Request) (Smut - minors do not interact)

Masterlist

Word count: 0.7k

Lorraine moaned, her hips rolling and grinding against you as you gripped her hips, your own grunts and moans suddenly sounding further and further away as her eyes snapped open just before she was about to have an orgasm.

She was breathing heavily, drenched in sweat not only from the hot summer night but from the dream she just had. She didn’t get to finish, but worse than that, she was wet, and your arms around her waist as you slept peacefully behind her weren’t helping her. She turned around in your arms, taking your features, bathed in moonlight, in. Your jaw, a tiny old scar above your lip from when you were kids, the serene expression on your face. Her gaze traveled lower, to your body, down to your crotch. What time was it anyway? It hardly mattered, she had a wet dream, she was horny, and she really, really wanted you to fix that.

So, she reached up caressing your cheek and leaning in to place tiny kisses around your lips. “Hey,” she whispered in your ear, smiling mischievously as you grumbled and frowned. “Wake up,” she trailed kisses down your jawline.

“Lorraine,” you muttered sleepily though you tilted her chin up and kissed her, though a bit lazily, having gotten used to her occasional late-night needs.

“I had a wet dream, Baby,” she said, kissing your neck as you slowly woke up. “Us. Me riding you,” she told you and noticed your pupils darkening.

“You want to do it now?” you asked, lifting her nightgown up and getting it off her.

“Mhm,” she bit her lips as the cool night air hit her skin and her already hard nipples ached for touch. “You just stay,” she nudged you back, getting you to turn on your back. “just like this, and let me do everything.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you teased her lightly and helped her get your clothes and her panties off.

Lorraine stroked your cock, loving the way it gradually got harder and bigger just because of her, because of what she was doing to you. She smiled as you began fondling her breasts, giving her aching nipples the attention they craved. She was wet from her dream, but she still grabbed your wrist, guiding your hand to her pussy and moaning as you began rubbing circles around her clit. “Oh, oh, right there,” she pleaded, your touch torturously slow as her wetness dripped down to your thigh.

You groaned at how wet she already was, at the warm wetness surrounding your fingers, at her beautiful body looking like it was shining in the moonlight. At the way she was biting her lips as she put a condom on your cock and then finally, she moved, rising above your fingers and getting in the position. You threw your head back against the pillow as she began riding you. “Raine,” you moaned and placed your hand on her hip.

Her soft moans, her face twisting in pleasure, her breasts bouncing slightly as she rolled her hips around, grinding her clit against you,.. you were captivated, a willing prisoner of your desires for her. And she was the same, losing herself in pleasure, her pussy gripping your cock as both of you quickly approached your orgasms.

Lorraine dug her fingers into your abs, grounding herself as the feeling of being full, of riding you overcame her. And then your thumb rubbed against her clit, and she was reminded of the dream she had. Her own moans mixed with your own, loud, needy, filled with lust and love as she came, her pussy clenching around you and pushing you over the edge as well.

Satisfied, though a bit reluctant to move, she got off you and lied down next to you, breathing heavily as you hugged her. “Think you can fall asleep now?” you asked as she caught her breath.

“If you cuddle with me, sure,” she smiled as you immediately wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close to you. Just for a few minutes, just until she calmed down. Then you could go back to sleep.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #x (2022)#x male reader #jenna ortega x reader

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ajortga · 2 months

Text

the 1900s

pairing: lorraine day x reader (implied fem?)

summary: with safe-kept memories from your past with your sunshine-like lorraine, more memories with your new family are unraveling for your future. (time is more in the past)

word count: 1.4k+

based off request! (thank you for the support anons!)

hi! i love your writings, they're so good! i just hope that you can write something cute about pregnant lorraine and reader chilling in their farmhouse with their children, please? thank you 💛

“Melly, look at the camera baby!” Lorraine’s sweet, baby-voice echoes. Your doe-eyed daughter, who’s hair is currently in braids that your wife did when she had the shortest length of hair, coos and runs up to the both of you, her hands flaring to the air.

Melly’s hands make grabby arms and you pick her up and spin her around as she giggles. You curl up to Lorraine and nuzzle her neck as she plays with your daughter's hair. She puts a small strawberry hat she knitted on her tiny head, making Melly babble and erupt in laughter.

Her eyes look up at you, blinking as her little hands come up and nestles her fingertips into your smooth hair. You do the same for Lorraine, pressing your lips to the side of her head as you fondle with her dark, wavy hair. You make a small squeal when Melly tugs on your hair, not enough to hurt, "Stop that!" Melly giggles more and plops her head onto your shoulder, "Hair."

“You are so cute! Your eyes are so pretty!” She fusses, lending the camera to you as you carefully hand Melly to her, cautious of Lorraine’s belly that is currently bloating that carries your soon to be child. You rub the bump that's forming, leaning down and letting your hands rub shapes under her yellow sundress. The freckled brunette gives you a warm smile, in which you let her kiss your forehead as she speaks, “She has your eyes, you know? That’s why I love her even more.”

“Well, she has your cheeks, I can squish them all day!” You giggle, pinching Melly’s cheeks lightly and squishing Lorraine’s.

Your wife squeals at you, and you pick up an incoming Theodore that is now racing towards you with his cow stuffed animal. His dark brunette hair is ruffled, in which Lorraine rubs it to smooth it out.

“Hi Teddy!” You say, recording him as he looks up at the camera with his overalls and a farmer hat you secretly stole from Mr. Days' most prized stuffed animal collection. He shows his cow stuffed animal to the camera, like a trophy and plunks on the haystack, his eyes noticing the tractor push-car placed next to him. He crawls off the stack and tries to crawl into the mini, self-drive tractor. It makes you and Lorraine giggle.

Your camcorder gets placed down on one of the stables, where it can capture everything. Then you pick up Theo and spin him in your arms, making him squeal happily. You bounce him up and down in your arms before placing him into the tractor and watching him click all the random buttons. He places his cow, which he’s recently called Sam, in the passenger seat. Then he puts his hat on him.

“Car,” Theodore’s tiny voice states, making him around to you. His eyes are questioning.

“Yes tiny, that’s a car.”

His tiny toes step on the pedal and the tiny tractor slowly begins to drive to you, making small ‘vroom’ noises as his tractor goes in circles in time with his wheel spinning.

“Baby, I think Theo would be a race-car driver one day.”

“I think he’d be a great race-car driver,” you say, about to talk about all the cool things he would do, until Theodore’s tractor bumps into Lorraine’s knee.

“Ouch!” She gasps, playfully. The small boy giggles his heart out, so much you can see his brunette hair going up and down.

“Excuse you, young man. You cannot try to crash into a pretty girl’s knee that is currently going to grant you another sibling!”

He backs up and this time charges to your knee, bumping into it.

“Hey! That hurts!” You shout, Theodore is giggling again, his cheeks are flaring red and you and Lorraine can’t help but giggle. “I hope he doesn’t do that in class.”

Lorraine shakes her head, placing Melly next to Theo as she puts his stuffed animal back into Theo’s lap, watching them go.

She looks at you, as if you were the sweetest person to ever exist. “My daughter and son look even more beautiful because of you.” You flush pink, the smile that forms on your face can’t be stopped, “I think they’re only beautiful because of you ‘Raine.”

Her finger places over your lips, before kissing them and looking into your eyes. Your head rests on your shoulder as you look up at her with those puppy eyes she’s been melting in since she first met you years ago, “Well they’re our children, the cute girls and boys we always pointed to when they passed by our house to try out our cookies. The children that we’ve always talked about having. They’re ours Y/N. I can’t imagine it, or being happy with anyone that isn’t you.”

You nuzzle her chest, inhaling her sweet, musky, citrus scent, “I’ll never be happy with anyone else that isn’t my sweet Lorraine.”

The both of you smile, before watching your children drive around the barn.

“Cow!” Theodore states as he brings his cow stuffy up to show it the cow in front of him. His name was Mabel.

A little while later you and Lorraine are asleep on each other with your backs laid against the barn. Theodore and Melly are feeding your netherland dwarfs and holland lops strawberries. Both your eyes flutter as you hear your sweet girl’s giggle, peeking out of the barn door. Your bunnies are licking their hands. And even after they bite into the strawberry, Melly eats the rest, making a small, ‘mmm’ noise.

“Wait, where did she get those strawberries?”

“The door where the sink is closed!”

“She’s eating the strawberries we grew without washing them!”

Before Melly can eat another one you two shriek, “Wash those strawberries!”

The four of you, well five, if you include your 3 and a half month golden retriever, (Pickle) are back at the farm house. The chilly breeze of the air conditioning cools you two down as you make Lorraine, Melly, and Theodore milkshakes. You cut some strawberries and mash them into a sauce, before adding some sugar and condensed milk. Then you blend them up with some milk and vanilla ice cream.

“Milky.. Shake!” Melly and Theodore say happily as all of you drink your milkshakes at the table. You steal a small sip from Lorraine’s strawberry one as she takes a sip from your vanilla one. She presses your lips on yours quickly, a light peck. You look back at the brunette girl and kiss her again.

“Ewww..” Theodore says, looking away from the romantic and cute sight that was in front of his eyes. Melly covers her face and makes a fake gagging noise, “Icky.” Theodore hugs Melly and she hugs him back, they’re both hiding away from you two.

“Awhh,” you both coo, watching them peek at you, Theodore peeks at you from the crevice of Melly, checking if you two are done.

Lorraine laughs in your ear as you hide in her neck and rub her belly, “When they’re older we’ll be teasing them and gagging when they have someone to bring home.”

“You’re sure right baby.”

You both are silent for a moment, taking a moment to appreciate everything around you, and what memories are yet to be created in the comfort of your home. There are pictures of your children’s footprints, the four of you as a family, Melly hugging Pickle when he was a baby, and Theo hugging Melly. Your eyes linger on a picture with them having spaghetti sauce all over their face and flour on the floor, like they’ve been caught committing a crime.

“That’s my favorite photo,” you say, looking up at it and grinning.

“That’s mine,” Lorraine points at the one when you four went to the pool for the first time, both your babies floating on the water with safety lifeguards on.

Then your eyes meet a polaroid photo that you two took years ago, maybe even more over a decade. It feels so long ago, yet you remember it like it was yesterday. Your heart aches knowing that time has passed by so quickly with your sweet ‘Raine. Lorraine smiles seeing the way you’re smiling.

You still had braces in and that stupid, silly smile. It was the photo of when Mabel, the cow that is still mooing today, was still a calf. Lorraine was wearing overalls and toothily smiling at the camera while you had ice cream in your hand. It was after the carnival you two went to freshman year high school. You remember Mr. Day had taken you both when celebrating your good grades. You two looked so young, yet it didn’t even look like you aged either way. You two were still the same old Y/N and Lorraine.

The both of you lean into each other, “No, that’s my favorite photo,” you both whisper. The polaroid photo that wrote, 1997.

“I love you Y/N," her voice says, smooth like vanilla. You smile, curl yourself more into her.

“I love you more ‘Raine.”

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x you #vada cavell x y/n #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader

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sw-33-ts-stuff · 1 year

Text

She Don’t Wanna Marry Me

Lorraine Day X Reader

A/N: I would like to apologize and thank everyone for the likes comments and reblogs. You guys are awesome and I suck 😭 having some writers block but I’ll try to get to those requests and finish what I started for now here’s a random one shot I wrote in the middle of the night

3rd Person POV

7 years old

You watched as a snot nosed boy pushed a pretty little girl with a pony tail, overalls and freckles into the sand.

It wasn't until teary big brown eyes met yours that you stepped into action. You cocked your fist back and let it fly smiling as it made contact with the boys face. His cry catching the attention of your teacher who grabbed you by the arm dragging you to her office.

The brunette in the sand box sniffled as she sent you a small smile and wave.

It was after school as you sat waiting for your mom (who you knew wasn't coming anytime soon) when she came next to you.

You both sat on a bench you still as her feet swung from one after the other.

"My names Lorraine." You glanced to see her not looking at you but rather her shoes.

"Y/n." You mumbled.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble."

"S'ok. Brian's a dick." The girl looked at you wide eyed.

"Daddy says I shouldn't say words like that." You shrug.

"He's not here." You smile cheekily at her. The girl stares at you for a beat before she continues.

"He said my voice was weird and my freckles were ugly."

"I like your voice and I think your freckles are pretty." The girl smiled as her feet kept kicking her eyes watching as her shoe laces would bounce with her.

"Lorraine!" An older woman stepped out of her car walking up to the two of you. The girl jumped up from the bench hugging the woman around her legs making her laugh. "Hey baby. How was your day?"

The sound in her voice was thicker than her daughters and she was very pretty. You looked back to the girl seeing the similarities between the two.

"I made a friend today!" She smiled up at the older woman before bringing her to you.

The woman looked down at you smiling slightly concerned as she noticed the quickly emptying parking lot.

"Well any friend of Lorraine's is a friend of mine! What's your name sweetie?"

"Y/n L/n, ma'am." She laughed.

"Don't call me ma'am it just makes me feel old." You nod not meeting her gaze. "Where's your parents sweetheart?"

You shrug. "Sometimes mom forgets to get me."

Her eyebrows furrow.

"And what about your dad?" You shrug again.

"I don't know him." Mrs.Day softly placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Do you know how to get home?" You nod. "Come on then I'll give you a ride."

You stand up slinging your back pack on your shoulder, grabbing Lorraine's as well. Her mom smiles at the action helping you in the car as her daughter bounced excitedly in the back seatbelt already on.

You tell her mother how to get to your house and she pulls up to see a car in the driveway house lights on. She notices besides the directions you were quiet as her daughter retold your meeting today. As you go to leave you thank her quietly almost reluctant to leave the car.

Mrs.Day waits until you get inside seeing a shadow greet you before you wave politely and shut the door.

"Rainey baby?"

"Yes mama?"

"I want you to keep an eye out for your new friend alright? Y'all stick together." The small girl nodded bouncing in her seat.

13 years old

"Say it again asshole." You grit your teeth pulling the boy closer to you. The boy in front of you trembling in your hold on his shitty t-shirt.

"Y/N!" A small hand grabs your shoulder

forcing you to loosen your grip. "Let him go. You can't get in anymore trouble."

You look into deep brown eyes sighing, pushing him away from you. "Beat it."

He doesn't hesitate to run from you quickly grabbing his bag as he flips you off. You scowl before turning back to his savior.

"C'Mon Raine." You whined. She crossed her arms over her chest raising one eyebrow at you. You huff grabbing her bag as the bell rings. "Alright." Your shoulders slump slightly. "Lemme walk you to class." She smiles linking her arm through yours as she laughs.

"Mama always said underneath that tough exterior is a giant teddy bear." Your scowl deepens but you say nothing as you keep walking next to her preparing for an hour of monotone voices and bullshit. "Remember the day I made you marry me?"

You glance at her lips almost turning up into a smile.

"I also remember a very demanding doll yelling at us to kiss." Olive cheeks bloom red as she pushed some of her hair behind her ear.

"Well I remember someone promising to love me forever and ever and never marrying anyone else." Mischief swirled in her eyes and she dug her fingers into your side: it was your turn to flush embarrassed as you thought back to the day you two had been "married". Her father and mother had a field day helping the two of you make Lorraine's dream wedding.

The backyard full of flowers a few chairs and her father even walked her down the isle to you.

You cough shrugging her off. "Whatever, I'll see you after class?" She nods smirking and taking the bag from you. Her smirk falls as she points a finger to scold you.

"I expect you to go to class after this Y/N you know how upset mama and daddy will get if they hear you're ditching...again." You nod, the girl always knew how to get to you. She smiled knowing she'd won leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You turn quickly so she can't see your smile as you run down the hall. Your pace getting even faster as you hear the warning bell.

18 years old

"So everyone I would like us all to raise our glass to Lorraine who's going to university."

You raised your cup before bringing it to your lips, Mrs.Day's sweet tea tasting bitter as you watched everyone celebrate Lorraine's soon to be departure.

The girl in question saddled up next to you. "You know it's not too late right?"

You looked down at her wanting to tell her. It is too late, you tried applying to the same school as her but your scores weren't as high and you refused to take advantage of her parents. It was enough they took you in and cared for you since you'd met them. You'd never be able to repay them if they covered your college tuition.

You shrug. "You know I'm not meant for college."

Her eyes softened as she looked at you. "I know that's what your mom told you, but that doesn't mean she was right."

"So miss big shot...maybe I should get your autograph now before you become a big time author." Her smile grew wide as you said this but she shrugged.

"I doubt it." You shook your head.

"You're gonna forget about us small town folk once you get to the big city."

"I would never." She looked up at you, a comforting silence fell between the two of you and you felt the tension growing as her gaze went from your eyes to your lips. You leaned in pausing to see her reaction, and for a moment you swore she was leaning in too.

"RAINEY! COME GIVE YOUR GRANDPA A HUG!" You sighed licking your lips as you leaned back, the girl quickly regaining her composure before she went to greet her other family members.

"Love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that they themselves commit." Mrs.Day appeared next to you.

"Shakespeare." She looked to you not surprised that you'd known where the quote came from, he was her daughters favorite author.

"It's not too late." You almost laugh at the irony. Like mother like daughter.

"She doesn't know but I tried." You turned to her mother. "I spent hours, nights, days studying but I just kept falling short." The older woman's eyes softened as your confession pulled at her heart strings.

"We can-"

You shook your head. "You all have given me so much I refuse to be more of a burden to you."

"Now stop right there." You straightened up as the usual soft tone in her voice grew harsh. "Mr. Day and I love you like our own and we never-"

"I know but.." you sighed. "You guys should focus on Raine and her needs, I made sure I got a job so I at least wouldn't be mooching off you too much by staying here."

You looked to see the girl smiling and laughing with those around her. Mrs.Day looking to you and then back to her daughter who'd always seemed to keep a close eye on you without you knowing. When one wasn't looking the other was. She shook her head after the day you two had met you revolved around one another like magnets the further anyone tried to hold you apart, the stronger the connection would pull you back together.

21 Years Old

Your foot bounced as you sat at the table with Mr. and Mrs. Day awaiting the guest of honor, their daughter. Over the years she'd visit home here and there but you'd always seemed to just miss her whenever she'd come by. At first you two would talk every day and night but the calls came less frequent, you'd be lucky to get a text on your birthday or if she'd heard good news through the grapevine.

Your breath caught at the sight of her walking through the front door and you felt a smile work it's way up, you went to stand but quickly fell back as a tall scrawny boy followed behind her. His nice attire and constant eye twitching telling you all you needed to know.

"Mama, Daddy I want you to meet RJ my boyfriend." She hasn't noticed you were there yet her parents insisted they'd surprise her with your presence. Mr. Day looked to the boy sizing him up as Mrs.Day just stared. You cleared your throat.

"Hey Raine I hope you don't mind me joining." The small girl looked up wide eyed and incredulous.

She threw her arms around your neck almost choking you in the process. Her mother still staring with a look of confusion as her father said nothing. Deciding to play nice you shake the boys hand.

"Nice to meet you RJ." He gulped smiling gratefully to you as he shook your hand wincing at the grip.

"You too uhh...."

"Y/n. I'm guessing Lorraine hasn't really mentioned me huh?" The realization stung as you'd gone to sit back down you'd happen to glance at the girls finger seeing a diamond catch the light.

"Umm baby is there something you want to tell us?" Mrs.Day had caught sight of it before you did and planted one hand on yours hoping to comfort you.

"We're getting married!" She squealed. Mr.Days mustache twitched as he stared in silence. You cleared your throat.

"This feels like a family thing so I'll just excuse myself. Nice to meet you Reggie." Mr.Day finally cracked a smile as Mrs.Day held back a laugh.

"It's RJ." He murmured. You nodded.

"Right, good to see you Lorraine." You nodded at her. Her eyebrows furrowed it was rare you called her by her name when addressing her.

"But Y/n-" Her mother cut her off to help you.

"So tell us how did you two meet?"the sounds of the restaurant faded as you quickly drive to the closest bar you could find.

Once you pulled into the parking lot you sat for a moment fists pounding the wheel.

"FUCK!"

22 Years Old

You read the same invitation over and over until the words were permanently etched into your brain. Their wedding was set just a few months from today, you felt numb as you thought back to the countless drinks and the one night stands you tried to have to erase the girls hold on you. Unfortunately for you it never left, not when you'd met girls who were the exact opposite of everything she was. Not when you'd move out of her parents house insisting it was time for you to stand on your own two feet, and especially not now when her wedding invitation stared back at you, taunting you.

Your phone buzzed as you'd received a text from Mrs.Day

Come to the house I know you haven't had a decent meal in months and Lorraine's here

Sorry Mrs.Day gotta catch up

On work

You put the phone down quickly immersing yourself in meaningless tasks.

"Hello?" The timid voice accompanied by the soft southern accent was unmistakable and you silently cursed to yourself when you bumped your head shooting up in surprise.

You grabbed a towel wiping your hands before following her voice.

"Hey Lorraine." You cleared your throat as you rubbed the back of your neck. The woman smiled softly at you as two girls next to her came closer.

"Ooooh Mouse you didn't tell me your childhood best friend was such a cutie. Hi baby I'm Bobby." Pearly whites shined at you as the next girl came closer eyeing you like a piece of meat.

"I'm Maxine." She purred holding her hand out, you shook it being polite before looking back to Lorraine.

"They're my bridesmaids and roommates. They wanted to meet you but mama said you were busy so she gave me the address." She looked around a proud grin on her lips. "You always had a thing for cars." You nod again a slight smirk to follow.

Bobby eyed the both of you nudging Maxine as she did so, the former already catching drift of what was going on. The two shared a glance before turning to the scene in front of them. Lorraine stepped closer looking at you up and down a mixture of interest and concern.

"You look good, mama said she's worried about you eating though." You shrug laughing.

"It's a physical job and you know how your mom is."

"We'll she's worried about you." A pause. "I am too." You look into soft brown eyes and feel your shoulders slump. You sigh beginning to slide your overalls off your shoulders displaying a greasy tank top.

"Ok, I'll go to the house to get dinner when I finish." The same look that made you cave in high school gets you again. You groan. "Alright Raine I'll go now and close up shop sound good?"

She smiles victorious as the girls behind her begin giggling. You follow them out as Lorraine makes sure you're right behind them. You climb the bike you've spilt blood sweat and tears on making Maxine whistle.

Lorraine feels odd watching her friend walk up to you and place her hand on your shoulder fingertips dragging slowly down before making their way up the path again.

"Hey girl you ok?" Bobby gets her out of her own head as she nods.

"YOU GUYS GO AHEAD IMMA CATCH A RIDE WITH GREASE LIGHTNING!" Lorraine hears you huff out a soft laugh. Your rev the bike twice before you pull up next to her.

"We'll meet you at the house Raine." She watches as you race to her house.

"Let's go." She says harshly to Bobby marching to her car.

She finds you standing in her driveway waiting patiently as Maxine lays across your bike trying to get to your attention. You straighten up as she gets out the car smiling slightly confused as to why she’s pouting. The only other times she’s done this was when you were younger and wouldn’t follow her plans. The door swings open warmth and familiarity wrapping around you.

Her mother greets you with a hug and kisses all over your face and it occurs to her maybe she wasn’t exaggerating, you haven't been home a lot either.

Mrs.Day smacks your shoulder. "You've had me worried sick."

The girls melt as they watch you soften up and hug the woman. "Sorry."

Mr.Day laughs seeing you get scolded by his wife. "I told ya she'd be coming for your hide. Now come here and give your old man a hug too."

You smile as you both try to crush each others spines.

"Now you..." Mrs.Day pulled you away. "Need to get ready, go shower that gunk off and be sure to wear something nice."

When you came back down Maxine let's out a slow whistle. "And I thought you looked good before."

You rubbed the back of your neck clearing your throat. "Thank you."

Lorraine stares hard at Maxine slowly getting more and more agitated by her behavior around you. This doesn't escape her mom or Bobby's attention. It also doesn't slip past Bobby that displayed proudly by the stairs is a picture of you and Lorraine in what seems to be a wedding as kids. She already felt Lorraine was out of RJ's league but to know she had someone waiting for her just solidified her predictions. She watched Lorraine walk up to you quiet as always. Church mouse was her nickname for a reason but at the moment she was anything but. Lorraine lays a hand on your shoulder effectively taking your attention away from anything that isn't her.

She watched as she used that hand to pull you into the kitchen and prepare you a plate of food. She cocked her head to the side as she gauged your reactions, she knew Lorraine well enough but you were another story entirely and yet she felt as if she may have already figured you out. The way you moved with her, gave in, and followed her she would've thought you were her fiancé. Especially with how attentive she was as you sat to eat, you going as far to give her some bites as you saw her eyeing certain foods on your plate.

"Rainey baby where are you?"

And just like that your bubble is broken, Bobby watches as you suddenly grow stiff and lose your appetite. The minute Lorraine leaves the seat next to you, she fills it.

"I got a question for you honey…”You look up surprised before nodding at her to continue.

"How long you've been in love with Lorraine?" She pulls out the picture of your first wedding. You smirk sadly chuckling a bit as you stroke the picture.

"I don't think there was a time when I wasn't in love with Lorraine."

"What happened?" You shrug.

"She don't wanna marry me."

Taglist: @alexkolax @wol-fica @natasha25052 @pdione11 @dksjskx @the-camilucha

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wlw post #lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #lorraine x reader #x film #Lorraine day imagine #Lorraine day x female reader #Lorraine day x gn reader #jenna ortega imagine

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bradshawsbaby · 6 months

Text

What Christmas Means to Me, My Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Summary: You're determined to make your first married Christmas the best one yet. But when you start to overextend yourself, Bob steps in to remind you what's most important.

Word Count: 10.6k

Author's Note: Whew! The relief I feel that I was able to get this story completed before Christmas Eve! This is my contribution to @lewmagoo's A Lew Magoo Christmas challenge! It was inspired by the Stevie Wonder song, "What Christmas Means To Me." I hope you all enjoy!

(Special shoutout and thanks to @luminousnotmatter and @ryebecca for listening to me ramble when I was having a total meltdown about writing this story. I'm very thankful for you both!)

Warnings: References to being stressed during the holidays and a few brief innuendos, but it's mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

From the time he was a young boy, Bob Floyd had been cognizant of one very fascinating phenomenon—his bed never felt so comfortable or so warm as when his alarm clock was blaring in his ear, giving him a rather forceful reminder that it was time to get up and start the day. After he met you, that troubling phenomenon seemed to increase tenfold. As responsible as he was and as much as he prided himself on getting to work early each day, Bob would be lying if he said there weren’t times when he felt like chucking his alarm clock across the room and playing sick just so he could stay tucked away in bed all day, cocooned under the blankets and wrapped around your sweet warmth.

This morning, as his alarm started roaring at 7:00 on the dot, Bob let out a small grunt of protest, blindly reaching out from beneath the comforter to pound a resentful fist on the top of his alarm clock. Once it was silent, he rolled over in the bed the two of you had been sharing as husband and wife for nearly six months now and reached an arm out, fully expecting to wrap it around your soft, pajama-clad body. When he was met with emptiness instead, Bob blinked his eyes open in confusion and sat up slowly, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his vision as he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and slipped them onto his nose, albeit a bit crookedly.

“Sweetheart?” Bob called out, frowning when he was met with nothing but the early morning stillness of your quaint little home.

Immediately, he flung the covers back and climbed out of bed, padding towards the bathroom to see if maybe you were in the shower and couldn’t hear him calling you over the sound of the running water. That theory was quickly disproven, however, when he found the bathroom door hanging open, lights off and no sounds of a shower in progress. But as he flicked on the lights, Bob discovered that you must have been in there not too long ago, for the mirror above the sink was still beaded with condensation and the bathmat had the imprint of damp footprints.

“Honey?” Bob called again, thinking maybe you’d stepped outside to enjoy your morning coffee on the front porch. Although why you’d be up this early—and showered already, too—on one of your days off from work was beyond him.

Walking into the kitchen, Bob immediately spotted a piece of festive note paper resting on the countertop. He recognized it instantly, the cream colored paper outlined with a ring of cheerful poinsettias. You’d been ecstatic when you’d found it at the dollar store a few weeks ago—"You never know when something like this will come in handy during the holidays, honey," were your exact words. But what stood out even more was your delicate handwriting etched across the paper in dark ink. Picking up the note, Bob adjusted his glasses and read the message you’d quickly penned on your way out the door.

Good morning, honey! I decided to head out early to try to hit some of the stores before they get too crazy. There’s a lot that I still need to pick up, so I’ll probably be gone most of the day. Also, Lorraine and I are going to run over to check out the venue for our staff holiday party and finalize the menu. Speaking of which, I also need to finalize the menu for OUR party, plus Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Text me if there’s anything you want me to get! Hopefully I won’t be home too late. I love you!!!

P.S. I almost forgot—I packed some lunch for you and left it in the fridge! And there’s a pot of coffee ready to brew. Have a great day!!!

He sighed softly as he set your note back down on the counter, running a hand through his honey brown hair, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as he silently lamented your early departure. He could hear your voice in his head as he read your words, chuckling to himself as he pictured you quickly gulping down a cup of coffee—in your favorite Christmas mug, no doubt—and shoving a piece of half-burnt toast in your mouth before running out the door.

You absolutely lived for this time of year, and all the hecticness that the season entailed.

Bob had known, almost from the very start of your relationship, how much you adored Christmas. It was one of the things, in fact, that had made it so easy for him to fall in love with you. Seeing the way you lit up like a firefly when a Christmas song came on the radio or when your favorite coffee shop started offering peppermint-flavored drinks made Bob’s heart melt in absolute love and devotion. He had never known anyone as whimsical or as full of genuine Christmas spirit as you. And your joy was infectious—Bob had never loved the holiday season so much as he did once he started celebrating it with you.

Waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, Bob couldn’t help but grin as he glanced around the kitchen at all the decorations you’d been putting up since Thanksgiving. They gave your home a warm, cozy feeling that had nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with the loving care with which you’d hung them.

To Bob, every day was Christmas so long as he got to spend it with you.

Which was why he sighed again as he poured a splash of cream into his coffee mug, brows furrowing above his glasses as he considered how little he’d seen you these past couple weeks.

With both of you working full-time jobs, it made sense that you couldn’t possibly spend every waking moment together. But Bob looked forward more than anything to your routine of dinner in the early evening and then hours spent lounging in each other’s arms, talking about your days or listening to music or watching a movie together. It was a habit you had gotten into even before you were married, and it was made all the sweeter by the fact that your lives were now entwined so intrinsically.

These past few weeks, however, that routine had been seriously upended by all the hustle and bustle of the holidays. Bob knew you took this time of year seriously—and he really did love how happy it made you—but it seemed like this year more than ever, your schedule was jam-packed and filled nearly to bursting.

On top of the usual shopping that needed to get done—you bought gifts for everyone, even down to your mail carrier and the barista who made your favorite coffee—there were preparations for not one, not two, but three separate parties you had volunteered to host. First up was your staff holiday party. Your colleagues knew that no one loved Christmas more than you, and so they had unanimously nominated you to spearhead the planning, which you’d graciously agreed to, with some help from your co-worker, Lorraine. Then was the party for the Daggers and their families that you had convinced Bob it would be fun to host a few days before Christmas Eve. All of your friends couldn’t stop buzzing about it, and you were going to great lengths to make sure it was perfect. As if all that wasn’t enough, you were also going to be hosting both of your families for the holidays this year, parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, and all.

“It’s our first Christmas as Mr. and Mrs. Floyd,” you’d told him one night, when he’d asked if you were really okay with all of the planning that would be involved. “I want it to be special.” Your smile when you said it warmed him from the inside out. As introverted as he could be, he’d gladly host twenty parties so long as it made you happy.

The reality, however, was that you were swamped. Every day after work, you were either running around to stores or scouring the internet for the best cyber deals or researching recipes that you wanted to try for Christmas dinner. One night, Bob had even found you making an alphabetized list of holiday games you could play at the parties.

“Are you sure you’re really okay?” Bob asked at one point, when he caught you yawning over your dinner. “I know I’ve been busy with work, but I can help more. Just tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine, silly,” you giggled, waving off his concern with a hand. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”

“They will,” he told you, resting his large, calloused hand over yours. He looked intently into your eyes, sincerity shining in the blue depths of his. “They’ll have a good time no matter what. You don’t have to make yourself sick over planning.”

You had just smiled at him and given him a kiss, but clearly you hadn’t heeded his words because now you were even using your day off to run errands, waking up even earlier than your naval aviator husband to do so.

Rinsing his empty mug out in the sink, Bob frowned as he thought of how tired you’d seemed these past few days. Your joy and your sweetness never diminished, but he could tell just from looking in your eyes how exhausted you were getting. You were overextending yourself, and he was terrified you were going to burn out before Christmas even arrived. Not being able to fully enjoy your favorite time of year would devastate you, and nothing would hurt Bob more than that.

You needed to take a day for yourself, Bob decided as he let the warm water flow over him in a quick shower. No shopping, no planning, no organizing—just a day where you actually got to enjoy all your favorite things about this season.

That idea remained buzzing around in his head as he drove to work, hanging on the periphery of his consciousness even as he spent hours flying test runs with Phoenix and the rest of the Daggers. On his lunch break, he enthusiastically hunkered down in the rec room to research some of the plans that were percolating in his mind. And by the time he drove home that evening, he was wearing a smile bright enough to rival any of the Christmas lights twinkling in your neighborhood.

The fact that you still weren’t home when Bob unlocked the front door and carefully placed his work boots on the shoe rack only further solidified his plan. As if you could somehow read his mind, his phone buzzed suddenly with an incoming text.

Are you home? I’m so sorry I’m not back yet! I’m on my way now. I picked up some dinner from that BBQ place that you like 😋

Bob’s heart squeezed with affection as he read your words. You’d been up for nearly twelve hours at this point, and you were no doubt exhausted, but you were still always putting others ahead of yourself. He typed out a quick response as he walked into the living room to turn on the lights on the Christmas tree.

Yum! Thank you, sweetheart. Can’t wait for you to get home ♥️

About twenty minutes later, just as Bob was stepping out of your bedroom after changing into a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt from his time at the Naval Academy, he heard your key jiggling in the lock and hurried to meet you.

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise when your husband swung open the door before you could finish turning your key. “Hiya, honey,” you beamed, holding up the bag of take-out food you’d picked up especially for him on your drive home.

“Man, I tell you, these delivery people keep getting cuter and cuter,” Bob teased, drawing you close and taking the food out of your hands as he dropped a kiss on your lips.

“Mmm,” you giggled against his mouth, kissing him back as you felt some of the tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders slowly dissipate. “Maybe this delivery girl can join you for dinner tonight,” you winked playfully, smiling when you felt Bob’s fingers lace through yours.

“I was counting on it,” he chuckled, tugging on your hand as he turned into the house.

“Oh, just give me a couple minutes, honey,” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering you’d left your car idling in the driveway, the backseat and trunk filled to the brim with your purchases of the day. “I just want to get everything out of the car.”

“Sweetheart, it can wait,” Bob insisted, glancing longingly between you and his dinner. “Your food’s going to get cold. I’ll help you unload the car after we eat.”

You bit your lip in hesitation, but finally relented when you saw the puppy dog expression on your husband’s face. “Okay, fine, let me just go turn the car off.”

A few minutes later, you and Bob were seated side by side at your small kitchen table, your legs pressing together and your fingers brushing against one another as you nibbled on wings and scarfed down some chili mac and cheese.

“How was your day?” you asked curiously, glancing up as you took a sip of water and wiped your fingers on a napkin.

You always asked that question so sincerely, even after all this time. It made him feel so seen and loved. Smiling, he rested his hand over yours and squeezed your fingers gently.

“It was good,” he said lightly, not yet ready to divulge the plans he’d been formulating all day. “You know, same old, same old. How about yours?”

“It was great!” you chirped, beaming brightly.

Bob smiled and nodded as you told him about the gifts you’d picked up for all the nieces and nephews, the menu you and Lorraine had decided on for your staff holiday party, the grab bags gifts you’d snagged for the Dagger party, the new gingerbread recipe you’d just heard about, and a whole host of other things.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you murmured sheepishly after you realized you’d hardly stopped for a moment to take a breath.

“It’s okay, I love it when you ramble,” Bob grinned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Mmm, I love it even more when you taste like barbeque,” he laughed, nudging your nose with his own.

Laughing, you wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders and kissed him tenderly. Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his with a contented sigh and gazed into his eyes. “Want to go find a movie to watch while I do the dishes?” you suggested.

Bob pulled back slightly to more fully look at you, though he kept his large hands wrapped loosely around your waist. “As much as I love the sound of that plan, I think we should call it an early night tonight, honey,” he said softly, reaching up to lightly brush your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You look exhausted.”

You pouted slightly, but couldn’t stifle the yawn that suddenly came upon you, which made the both of you laugh. “I guess you’re right,” you admitted ruefully, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment.

“How about you get started on the dishes and I’ll unload everything from the car? Then we’ll head to bed, alright?” Bob asked, hyper aware of the drawn look around your eyes.

“Deal,” you nodded, giving him one more kiss as you jumped up to clear the table.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were cuddled up under the covers, the warm glow from the little battery-operated lantern you kept near the window casting a cozy feel over the room.

“Do you have any plans for Saturday?” Bob asked softly, running his fingers up and down your arm gently as you lay in his embrace. Saturday was the one day that the both of you had off, and he intended to make the most of it this weekend.

You let out a soft sigh, snuggling up further against his chest. “There are a few new recipes I wanted to try for dinner on Christmas Eve and Christmas, so I figured maybe I should test them out ahead of time, just in case they end up being a disaster. Saturday seems as good a day as any to do that. Want to be my taste tester?” you grinned, eyes crinkling as you smiled over at him.

“Uh-uh,” Bob shook his head, a slightly mischievous smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him. “Why not? You’ve got other plans?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, his blue eyes twinkling, which you could see even in the dark of your bedroom. “I’m going to have a very full day.”

“Doing what?” you huffed jokingly, arching an eyebrow as you rolled onto your side, gazing at him curiously.

“You’ll find out,” Bob grinned, not letting the cat out of the bag just yet. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” you asked, clearly taken aback as your eyes widened once again. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he chuckled, leaning over to give you a quick kiss.

“Bob!” you exclaimed, nudging him lightly with your foot.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he grinned, rolling over and closing his eyes. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as he heard you huffing softly beside him, clearly desperate to know what he was planning. Within minutes, however, he heard the sound of your breathing soften and deepen, your eyes closing in a deep slumber.

Turning back over, Bob watched you sleep peacefully and felt his heart clench inside his chest. You were going above and beyond this Christmas, and it was clearly taking its toll, whether you wanted to admit it or not. He was glad to see you sleeping so comfortably after such a long day.

You were striving so hard to make this Christmas magical for everyone else. This weekend, Bob was going to make it magical for you and remind you what this season was really all about.

Nobody deserved it more than you.

Saturday morning dawned bright and crisp, just as Bob had been anticipating. He’d been checking the forecast every day to make sure that nothing was going to interfere with his plans for today. The weather was better than he could have hoped for—the sun was shining bright, hardly a cloud in the sky, but the air had a nice winter chill as the temperature hovered somewhere between the high fifties and low sixties.

That was one of the only things you ever lamented about moving to San Diego—it was harder to make it feel like Christmas when it was still warm enough to wear shorts and go to the beach. But today’s weather, while certainly not cold by any stretch of the imagination, would at least give you an opportunity to wear one of those new sweaters you’d bought for yourself.

Grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning, Bob quietly tiptoed into your bedroom, where he was delighted to see that you were still fast asleep, buried so deeply under the covers that only the top of your head was poking out. Swallowing back a laugh, he sidled over to your side of the bed and carefully placed the treats he’d set out early to procure on your nightstand.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured softly, gingerly taking a seat on the edge of the bed to avoid crushing you. You stirred slightly, but didn’t open your eyes, so he bent down to drop a kiss on the crown of your head, still the only part of your body exposed to the mid-morning light. “Honey, wake up,” he tried again, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

Letting out a soft hum in response, you slowly pushed the covers back and ran a hand down your face before opening your eyes halfway, peeking up at your husband through hooded lids.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bob chuckled, ducking his head to peck your lips tenderly.

“Mmm, good morning,” you replied, your voice still heavy with sleep as you stretched with a satisfied little groan. You were so distracted by the extremely pleasant view of your handsome husband hovering above you that it took you a moment to realize how much light was filtering in through the windows, and to catch a glimpse of the time on your alarm clock. Gasping, you bolted upright, looking at Bob with wide eyes. “Is that really the time? I thought I set an alarm!”

It was nearly 9:45am. You couldn’t remember the last time you had slept in that late. Between work and all the other things you were usually running around doing, even on your days off, your internal alarm hardly ever let you sleep that long. Not to mention the fact that you normally had an alarm set. You could have sworn you had set it last night.

Bob had the grace to look a bit sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at you with those big blue eyes behind the frames of his adorably gawky glasses. “You did,” he began slowly, glancing guiltily at your alarm clock and then back at you. “I shut it off.”

“Bob!” you exclaimed in astonishment, uncertain what would have possessed him to do that, especially when he knew how busy you were lately. “Why would you do that?”

“You needed the extra sleep, honey,” he said in a voice so sweet and filled with concern that you couldn’t even dream of staying mad at him. Reaching out, he took one of your hands between both of his, gently rolling the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “You’ve been running yourself ragged these past couple weeks. I wanted you to get some real rest.”

You bit your lip, averting your gaze as you silently thought about how busy you’d been lately and how exhausted you’d been feeling. You’d had three cups of coffee at work yesterday just to make it through the day.

“I guess you’re right,” you conceded, your lips curving upward in a rueful smile. “I do feel a little bit better already. Thank you, honey,” you told him, leaning forward to give him a kiss of appreciation. That was when your eyes landed on the cup of coffee and the small red-and-white striped bag on your nightstand. “Is that for me?” you gasped in delight, looking back at your husband eagerly.

“Mhm,” Bob chuckled at your open excitement, reaching for the cup and the bag and placing them in your hands.

Your very favorite coffee shop in all of San Diego, which also happened to be the spot where you and Bob went on your second date, was a tiny little hole-in-the-wall place not far from where you worked. From the outside, it didn’t seem like much to behold, but it was one of the city’s best kept secrets. Their coffee was brewed to perfection and their baked goods were a sweettooth’s dream. But what you loved most of all was the way they went all out for the holidays. The entire cafe was decked out in garland and bows and twinkling lights, Christmas music pumped through the speakers all day long, and their menu reflected everyone’s seasonal favorites.

At this time of year, your go-to order was a large peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream and a gingerbread scone that you swore you wanted to be your last meal on this earth. Bob had gotten to the cafe just in time that morning to get a scone fresh out of the oven.

“Oh my gosh, it’s still warm,” you sighed happily, the spiced molasses melting on your tongue as soon as you popped it into your mouth. You closed your eyes in bliss, washing it down with a sip of the peppermint mocha. “Thank you, honey. This is such a sweet surprise.”

“The first of many, I hope,” Bob smiled, resting a hand on your thigh as you enjoyed your breakfast in bed. “I have lots planned for you today, Mrs. Floyd.”

“You do?” you asked, raising an eyebrow over the rim of your coffee cup.

He nodded, his smile only growing wider. “Don’t you remember what I said the other night? We’ve got a lot to do today. So as soon as you’re done enjoying your breakfast, you better hop in the shower. We don’t want to be late,” he told you, his gorgeous baby blues sparkling as he rose from the bed and started towards the door.

“Wait!” you cried, jumping out of bed with your coffee and scone still firmly in hand. “What are we doing?” you called after him, chasing behind him in bare feet. “Bobby!”

“You’ll find out,” he laughed, turning around and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Just wear something comfortable,” was all the information he gave you.

You sighed in a purposely dramatic fashion, shooting him a playful glance. You knew from the look on his face that he wasn’t going to tell you anything else, so there was no use in trying to get the information out of him. Instead, you quickly gulped down the rest of your coffee and finished off your scone—still trying to savor every bite—before tearing off your pajamas and jumping into the shower.

An hour later, you were ready to go, dressed in a cute pair of jeans and a new red and white sweater you’d just recently purchased. The weather today finally gave you an opportunity to wear it.

“Is this alright?” you asked Bob as you stepped into the living room, holding your arms out at your sides. It was hard to know what to wear when you had no idea what you were doing.

“It’s perfect,” Bob nodded, smiling as he rose from the couch and took in your appearance. “Just like you,” he added, winking as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I could say the same thing to you,” you giggled, resting your hands on his broad chest. He was wearing a dark green crew neck sweater and dark jeans that fit his long figure exquisitely. “Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Bob just shook his head, laughing out loud when you released a groan of exasperation. “Patience, my sweet wife,” he teased, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the front door. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

You really hadn’t been sure what to anticipate when you climbed into the car with Bob. As many guesses as you tried to make to figure out what his plans were, your husband’s expression was impenetrable. He didn’t give anything away, no matter what you said.

What you hadn’t been expecting was to pull into the parking lot of Petco Park.

As soon as Bob put the car in park, you glanced over at him curiously, trying to figure out what you were doing here. Your husband wasn’t a big baseball fan. And even if he was, it was the middle of December.

“I’m guessing we’re not here for a Padres game?” you ventured with a playful smile, glancing around the crowded parking lot.

Your husband laughed, shaking his head. “Not exactly. Come on,” he told you, climbing out of the car and hurrying around to the passenger side to open your door.

Slipping your hand into his, you followed his lead as he guided you through the milling crowd towards the entrance to the baseball stadium. He seemed almost giddy as the two of you got closer and closer to the park, glancing down at you every few seconds as if to check that you were still with him. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but his excitement was infectious and you found yourself buzzing with anticipation.

You weren’t disappointed.

As soon as Bob handed over your tickets to the attendant, you were swept up in the crowd of people surging towards Gallagher Square, where you were met with a breathtaking display of Christmas beauty.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, coming to a halt as you stared, wide-eyed and in awe of the beautiful market that surrounded you.

“Do you like it?” Bob asked, a thread of nervousness in his voice as he looked at you, watching the way you were silently taking everything in.

Turning to face him, your face split into a huge grin and you threw your arms around him, peppering his cheek with kisses. “I love it! It’s so wonderful!”

It was as close to a German Christmas market as you had ever come, with vendors of all kinds set up in little wooden booths ringing the perimeter of the square. There were shopkeepers selling a whole assortment of things, from hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies to homemade candy to personalized ornaments to fine wine and jewelry. Amidst all the different stalls were small stages where performances ranging from choirs to magic shows were taking place, not to mention the life-size snow globes and the giant sleigh where guests could take pictures. And at the center of it all was a ginormous Christmas tree that had to be at least thirty feet tall.

It was magical. It made you feel like you were a little girl again, attending your town’s local Christmas fair with your family.

“I didn’t even know this existed!” you exclaimed, still holding tightly to your husband as you continued to gaze around you.

“I didn’t either,” Bob admitted, unable to stop smiling at how happy you looked. “But Phoenix and Hangman told me they took the kids here last week and had a blast, so I knew I had to get you tickets.”

“Oh, thank you, honey! This is amazing!” you beamed, wrapping your arms around him to give him an enthusiastic kiss.

Bob chuckled and blushed slightly as he adjusted his glasses with one hand, his other hand resting on your hip. “Should we walk around?”

Nodding, you took his hand and practically hauled him across the square, bouncing from stall to stall and oohing and aahing over all the various trinkets and baubles.

“Oh, honey, look! We should get this,” you cooed, holding up a sweet ornament of a hand painted Christmas tree with a little banner draped across it that read Our First Christmas as Mr. and Mrs.

It didn’t matter that you had three other ornaments with similar messages already hanging on your Christmas tree at home. Bob gladly pulled out his wallet to buy it for you, his heart fluttering at the gorgeous smile that lit up your entire face when the vendor carefully wrapped it up and handed it to you.

“Thank you, Bobby. I can’t wait to put it on the tree when we get home,” you told him, carefully slipping the wrapped ornament into your purse.

“Anything for you, honey,” Bob murmured softly, kissing your forehead. “Alright, what’s our next stop?”

You and Bob continued to wander among the stalls for the next couple hours, stopping on occasion to take a photo or grab a snack—"This is sustenance," you grinned, holding up the little brown bag of freshly glazed almonds that you’d purchased for the two of you to munch on.

At one point, as you were admiring the work of a local artist, you heard the sound of the sweetest voices imaginable. Following the music, with Bob trailing closely behind, you walked a bit further up the path before stopping in front of a small choir made up of the most angelic looking children you had ever seen. The sign in front of the platform declared that they were students from a local school for children with special needs.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, tears sparkling on your lashes as they sang the most beautiful version of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” you had ever heard. Resting your head on your husband’s shoulder, you let the music wash over you, smiling brightly as they transitioned from one song to another.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there exactly—was it for three songs or six?—but when the children finally stopped singing, you and Bob burst into thunderous applause, prompting nearby onlookers to join in.

The pride on the children’s faces melted your heart as they shyly waved to the crowd and began making their way off the platform.

A little girl with Down syndrome, who couldn’t have been older than six or seven, suddenly broke away from the others and grabbed her mother’s hand, dragging her towards where you and your husband stood.

“Thank you for coming!” she said brightly, offering an adorable little gap-tooth smile.

“Thank you for having us!” you replied brightly, squatting down so that you were on eye level with her. “You all sounded amazing!”

To your surprise, the little girl lunged forward to wrap her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” her mother exclaimed, touching her daughter’s shoulder and trying to pull her back.

“It’s alright,” you smiled, patting the little girl’s back before she let go. “No need to apologize.”

“Thank you for staying to listen for so long,” the woman said, looking between you and Bob. “The kids worked really hard on their program for today, so it was nice to have such a captive audience.”

“We were happy to do it, really,” Bob told her, smiling down at the little girl as he rested a hand on your lower back. “Christmas music is my wife’s favorite,” he told her conspiratorially.

Her eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Mine, too!”

You all laughed happily at that.

“Well, I hope you have an amazing Christmas and that Santa brings you everything you’re hoping for this year,” you told her, grinning at the way she lit up at the mention of Santa.

“Santa! Santa!” she cheered.

“That’s right,” her mother nodded, brushing her daughter’s hair back over her shoulder. “We should get going soon if we want to go see Santa. What do you say to the nice people who watched you sing?”

“Thank you!” the little girl said sweetly, giving both you and Bob another quick hug around the legs. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” you and Bob replied in unison, waving to both mother and daughter as you went your separate ways, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re going to make an amazing mother one day,” Bob told you softly, the unadulterated adoration in his eyes warming you up from the inside out.

You just smiled dreamily in response, very much looking forward to the day when you would get to see Bob Floyd become a father.

“Well I think that was a very successful trip to the Christmas Market,” your husband said a few minutes later after you circled back to the center of the square.

“I had so much fun, honey. Thank you for thinking of this,” you told him, touched by the effort he’d made to bring you here and make it such a lovely afternoon.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bob smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He glanced down at his watch and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, but we better get going if we want to stay on schedule. Still have a lot to do.”

“Wait…what?” you questioned, startled. “There’s more?”

“I said I had a lot planned, didn’t I?” That mischievous twinkle had returned to his eyes. “You didn’t think this was it, did you?”

“Bob Floyd, what do you have up your sleeve?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and looking up at him with a quirked brow, trying and failing to mask the smile tugging at your lips.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, taking your hand and leading you back to the car.

If you had been uncertain about what your husband’s plans were when you’d arrived at Petco Park, you were doubly unsure what he had in mind when he turned onto the bridge connecting San Diego to Coronado.

“Are you taking me with you to work?” you wondered with a laugh, looking out the window at the afternoon sun sparkling on the San Diego Bay. You often told Bob that you were jealous of the view he got to enjoy on his commute to and from North Island.

Bob laughed at your question, but simply shook his head in response, turning up the radio as Mariah Carey began belting “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

“Hmmm, saved by the Queen of Christmas,” you joked, nudging him playfully as he took a turn off the bridge.

“Now, honey, you know that you’re the Queen of Christmas,” Bob retorted, winking at you as he made a few more turns.

“True,” you giggled, singing along to the radio until Hotel Coronado appeared in your sights, in all its glorious grandeur. You glanced over at Bob curiously, but he didn’t say anything as he searched for a parking spot.

“The suspense is killing me, Bobby,” you lamented, clinging onto his arm once he finally did manage to park the car. “What are we doing now?”

Turning to face you, Bob was struck once again by just how deeply he loved you. There was no one else he’d drag himself all over San Diego for on his day off from work.

“We’re going ice skating,” he explained, chuckling at the shocked expression on your face.

“You mean…Skating by the Sea?!” you gasped excitedly, practically bouncing up and down in your seat. “Bobby, you got tickets?”

“Sure did,” he nodded, pulling them out of his pocket to show you.

“Oh my gosh, how?” you breathed, reaching out to touch them as if you were afraid they would disappear.

“Mav knows a guy,” Bob chuckled, shaking his head affectionately as he thought of his boss and mentor.

As Hotel Coronado’s most popular winter attraction, it was nearly impossible to get tickets to Skating by the Sea during the Christmas season, but when Bob had mentioned it at work, Maverick had promised that he would be able to procure him a couple tickets. How he managed it, Bob didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either. All that mattered was that you were looking at him right now like he had hung the moon and the stars, and there was no better reward than that.

“Ready to go?” Bob asked, holding out his hand to you.

“Ready!” you cheered, placing your hand in his and holding on tight.

It had been quite some time since you had actually been ice skating, and you were a bit rusty, especially in comparison to your midwestern husband, who had grown up ice skating on frozen ponds every winter. Still, despite your wobbly knees, you were determined to enjoy every moment of this experience.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Bob murmured encouragingly, holding tightly to your hands as he guided you onto the ice, sticking close to the wall in case you needed extra support.

“If you had told me we were coming, I could have brushed up on my skills ahead of time,” you teased, glancing down at your white rental skates as you carefully slid one foot in front of the other.

“And ruin the surprise and the look on your face when I told you what we were doing? Never,” he grinned, gently squeezing your hands as you slowly started to become more confident and steady on your feet. “You’ve got it, honey. Try looking up at me. I won’t let go,” he promised.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze from your feet up to your husband’s midsection, and then finally up to his face, that face that you adored more than anything else on this earth.

“There you go, you’ve got it. You’re doing such a good job,” Bob praised you, his confidence unshaken as he moved backwards across the ice. It was incredibly attractive how sure of himself he was out here.

“I think I’ve got it now. Want to try letting go?” you asked with a grin, feeling a little nervous but willing to give it a shot.

Smiling proudly, Bob nodded and slowly released his grip on your hands, letting you glide independently for a few seconds. You moved forward tentatively, your hands still out at your sides so that you could grab onto him—or the wall—if needed.

“That’s it, honey! Look at you go!” your husband cheered, making you laugh as you carefully made your way over to the opposite wall, which afforded you breathtaking views of the beach and the ocean beyond.

Seconds later, Bob skated up beside you, resting with you against the wall and enjoying the same view. “Pretty beautiful, huh?” he asked, gazing down at you.

“Insanely beautiful,” you agreed, resting your hand over his and squeezing gently. “I’m so glad we’re here.”

“Me, too,” Bob nodded, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “But it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. I’m just so glad to be with you.”

“Honey,” you breathed out, touched by the sweetness of his words. They actually made you well up a little bit.

“I mean it, sweetheart. It’s not the things we do that make days like this special. It’s getting to do them with you. That’s all I really wanted. I’ve missed you these past few weeks,” he confessed.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Bob was quiet for a moment, just holding you close and resting his cheek atop your head.

“I love you so much, you know,” you told him, lifting your head to press a kiss to his jaw.

“I know,” he nodded, his mouth turning up in a tender smile. “I love you, too. More than anything.”

After a couple moments of comfortable silence, you took his hand and started to push away from the wall. “Come on, let’s go show everybody what an amazing skater you are,” you laughed, nearly toppling over in your eagerness. Thankfully, Bob had some of the quickest reflexes you’d ever seen and was there to catch you.

He was always there to catch you.

You and your husband spent the next hour twirling around on the ice, you trying your best not to fall and Bob trying his best to keep you from falling. By the time your legs were starting to ache in protest, the sun was just beginning to set over the beach, the sky exploding in hues of orange, pink, and red.

“Isn’t that the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?” you whispered in awe, resting your cheek against your husband’s strong chest and soaking in the moment.

“A close second to you,” Bob replied, chuckling at the adorable way you got all flustered at his compliment. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get those skates off you.”

Stepping off the rink, Bob carefully guided you to a nearby bench and sat you down before squatting in front of you to untie your laces.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” you asked softly, reaching out to lightly caress his flushed cheek as he ministered to you.

“I ask myself the same thing every day when I get to wake up beside you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your knee before pulling your skates off. He then rose and plopped down beside you on the bench, pulling off his own skates with ease.

After you returned your rental skates and collected your things, Bob stopped you on the pathway near the beach and looked down at you.

“I hope you’ve worked up an appetite after all this,” he told you, a knowing smile on his face. “Because we’ve got one more stop.”

“We do? Oh, Bobby! This day has already been so special. I can’t imagine how it could get any better,” you declared, wondering what more he could possibly have in store.

“Wait and see,” Bob winked, taking your hand as you began strolling off hotel property and towards where you had parked “Oh, and I’ve got a little something in the car for you to change into.”

The last thing on earth you had been expecting when your husband handed you a small duffel bag out of the trunk of the car was to open it up and find the beautiful red dress you’d worn last Christmas—the one Bob hadn’t been able to stop gushing about or get you out of fast enough after Christmas dinner—and your favorite pair of high heels, plus the diamond studs and pendant he’d gifted you last year, the ones you only wore on very special occasions.

And yet, there you were, sitting beside your husband in the passenger seat of his car in your holiday finest, flying along the open road towards some unknown destination.

You weren’t the only one who had changed after your ice skating escapades. Bob had packed a second duffel, it seemed, for when you had returned from getting changed, he was waiting for you, no longer clad in his crew neck and jeans, but in a pair of black slacks and a dinner jacket, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

“For you,” he said with a wide smile, handing you a small bouquet of red and white roses—another surprise he’d been hiding in that trunk of his.

You held the sweet-smelling flowers close to your nose now as Bob made a few turns, heading in a direction that was not totally familiar to you.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you whispered softly, a hint of emotion catching in your voice as you rested the beautiful bouquet in your lap. You couldn’t wait to put it in one of your Christmas vases when you got home and proudly display it on the coffee table in the living room.

Bob glanced over at you as he came to a red light, his blue eyes brimming with adoration as he soaked in how happy and content you looked. “You deserve it,” he told you, reaching out to rest a hand on your thigh, his fingers lightly stroking the inside of your knee. “You deserve all this and so much more. And I’m so lucky to be the man who gets to give it to you—or try anyway,” he added with a sheepish laugh.

Before the light could turn green, you leaned over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. “You succeed,” you murmured against his lips. “Every time. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

“I love you,” he smiled, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb before returning both hands to the wheel, ignoring the disgruntled driver who was honking behind him.

You giggled as you settled back in your seat with a happy sigh. “I love you, too, honey.” You paused for a moment or two, then tacked on, “Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nice try,” Bob laughed, shooting you a sideways glance. “I haven’t spoiled any of my surprises today. You think I’m going to start now?”

“Oh, fine,” you replied, heaving a dramatic sigh and then grinning. “I can’t wait to find out what it is though.”

“I have a feeling you’re really going to love it,” he said, his smile warmer than the San Diego sun as he tapped his hands excitedly on the steering wheel, his own anticipation building.

“I know I will,” you nodded, lifting the bouquet of roses to your nose once more and taking a delicate sniff. “I love anything so long as I’m doing it with you.”

A few minutes later, Bob made a final turn that led the two of you up a winding, gorgeously manicured road. Leaning forward, you gazed out the window eagerly, trying to place exactly where you were. At that exact moment, a large sign came into view that read FAIRMONT GRAND DEL MAR.

Gasping in delight, you practically had your nose smushed against the glass as your husband drove past stunning gardens and twinkling fountains, all decked out with the most darling, demure decorations you had ever seen.

Fairmont Grand Del Mar was one of the most luxurious and glamorous hotels in all of Southern California, and while it was basically right in your own backyard, you had never stepped foot on its grounds before.

You suddenly found yourself very grateful that your jeans and sweater were safely tucked away in a duffel bag. Thank goodness your brilliant husband thought of everything.

“Oh my goodness, Bobby!” you squealed, covering your mouth to try to control the delighted laughter that was bubbling up inside you. But it was no use. “It’s so beautiful here!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Bob hummed in agreement, taking in the view as he slowed his pace along the property’s winding pathways. “A beautiful girl in a beautiful place. Sounds about right to me,” he added, eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

You just smiled at that, a pleasant warmth rushing to your cheeks as you tried to take in as much of the views as you could. As if the hotel grounds weren’t breathtaking enough on their own, they’d clearly gone to great lengths to turn the property into a winter wonderland for the holidays and they had more than succeeded. You loved every inch of it.

Moments later, after Bob had helped you out of the car and handed his keys off to a valet parker, he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you into the lobby of what seemed to be one of the hotel’s restaurants. It was elegantly designed, with Persian rugs and cream-colored marble walls, scrolled detailing on the ceiling, and a roaring fireplace to give the room a cozy, inviting atmosphere. It was decorated for the season with class—golden candelabras, dark red poinsettias, aromatic garland wrapped in red ribbons and bows, giant wreaths practically the size of you hanging on the walls.

It felt like a little Christmas paradise.

You were thankful for Bob’s strong hand on your back, guiding you along as you tripped over your own two feet, gazing around the room in unabashed awe.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he whispered in your ear as you approached the host stand. “I’ll make sure to take lots of pictures of you in that gorgeous dress with this perfect Christmas backdrop,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I want you in the pictures, too,” you whispered back, grinning as you squeezed his hand where it was resting on your hip. “Too bad we didn’t think to come here for our Christmas card photo,” you added, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Next year,” Bob winked. He managed to tear his gaze away from you only when the two of you finally got to the stand and the hostess looked at you expectantly.

“Good evening,” she said in a voice that was calm, cool, and cultured. “Do you have a reservation with us tonight?”

“Yes,” Bob told her, squeezing your hip softly as he spoke. “Dinner for two. It should be under Floyd.”

The hostess checked her computer screen and smiled. “Ah, yes. We’re pleased to welcome you tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd. Please, follow me,” she said, leading you through a small maze of elegantly set tables, bedecked with what appeared to be antique tablecloths, romantic candles, and subtle hints of holly and garland.

The three of you finally came to a stop at a cozy table right near a window which overlooked the gardens, a twinkling Christmas tree right in your line of vision.

“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess told you as the two of you got settled in your seats. “We hope you very much enjoy our special Christmas menu here at Fairmont Grand Del Mar,” she added with a gracious smile before turning to head back to her post.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a soft smile, maintaining every ounce of decorum you could possibly muster until the woman was out of earshot. Then you let out a delighted squeal, the same sound you used to make when opening your presents on Christmas morning as a little girl. “Bobby! This is incredible! How did you manage this?” you demanded, gaping at him in amazement. Then you giggled. “Wait, let me guess. Mav knows another guy?”

“Actually this time, it was Payback who knew a guy,” Bob laughed, reaching across the table to take your hand in his, brushing his thumb across your soft skin. “His cousin works concierge at the hotel, so he managed to pull a few strings.”

“Amazing,” you grinned, squeezing his hand lovingly. “Don’t let me forget to thank Mav and Reuben when I see them at the party.”

“Just Mav and Reuben?” he teased, pretending to be wounded.

You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice as you told him, “Well I’m going to give you a proper thank you tonight.” Your eyes sparkled in tandem with the diamond pendant hanging around your neck.

Bob’s cheeks turned bright pink as he caught your meaning, and he reached up to tug lightly at the collar of his shirt, clearing his throat.

Winking, you leaned back with a smile. Your husband was saved from having to come up with a reply by the sudden appearance of your waiter, an older, dignified man named Antonio, who greeted you both warmly as he shared some drink recommendations.

Despite the fact that Bob hardly ever drank, he ordered the two of you a bottle of champagne that came highly recommended, which Antonio happily delivered along with a bucket of ice.

“To you, sweetheart,” Bob toasted, lifting the flute that your waiter had filled just a moment earlier. “This time of year wouldn’t be half as special if it wasn’t for you.”

“No, to you,” you smiled, raising your own champagne flute to mirror your husband’s. “Today was beyond words, and none of it would have been possible without you.”

“To us then,” he grinned, compromising as he tipped his glass towards you.

“To us,” you nodded in agreement, lightly clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. “Mmm, that’s delicious,” you murmured appreciatively, licking a drop of the champagne off your lip.

“Mhm,” Bob hummed, looking almost surprised. “I mean, not that I have much to compare to, but I’d say this is the best champagne I’ve ever had.”

“Better than at our wedding?” you joked.

“I stand corrected. This is the second best champagne I’ve ever had,” he chuckled.

You and Bob relaxed into smooth and easy conversation. Both your mothers would have scolded you for resting your elbows on the table, especially in such a fancy restaurant, but neither of you cared as you leaned in closer to one another, whispering over the candlelight as the twinkling lights outside the window illuminated your lovestruck faces. Faintly, in the distance, you could hear the soft sounds of classic Christmas tunes being played on a piano. It was the most perfect evening you could have imagined.

The food was some of the best you’d ever tasted. After much debate, you finally settled on the filet mignon with a bearnaise sauce, roasted vegetables, and what had to be the world’s creamiest mashed potatoes, while Bob selected the pork medallions with roasted garlic fingerling potatoes and a brussel sprout salad. Although really it was hard to say who had ordered what considering the way you kept picking food off each other’s plates.

By the time the sour-cherry cheesecake trifle that the two of you had ordered for the grand finale came out, you felt like you were going to burst right out of your pretty red dress. But like you always said, there was always room for dessert.

“You want to know the craziest thing?” you asked, looking up at Bob as you set your fork down on the plate resting between you and your husband. When he nodded at you, you went on, “I just realized that I didn’t think about any of my holiday planning at all today—the shopping, my work party, the parties we’re hosting, none of it. It didn’t cross my mind at all even though it’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks. Isn’t that funny?”

Bob set his fork down as well and gazed at you from across the table, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. “Good,” he said, reaching out to take your hand in his once more, gently playing with your wedding band. “That was my mission, and it sounds like it was a success. I wanted today to be a day where you just got to have fun and enjoy this time of year. I know how much it means to you, and I also know that it’ll be over in the blink of an eye, so we have to make the most of it while we can.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you felt the corners of your eyes pricking with happy tears. Your husband was truly the most thoughtful, selfless, caring man you had ever known. You would never know what you had ever done to get so lucky as to find him.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, mimicking his actions and lightly rolling his wedding band underneath your finger as you reached for his other hand. You were quiet for a moment, then thought of his words from earlier, the words that had been niggling the back of your mind on and off since you’d left the ice skating rink. “What you said before,” you began slowly, chewing on your bottom lip, “about missing me these past few weeks. Have I really been that busy? I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Bob gasped, squeezing your hands tightly in his own. “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty. I’ve just been worried about you, that’s all. You’re always so happy this time of year, and I know how much it means to you, so I hate to see you running yourself ragged like you have been. I guess I was starting to be afraid that you were going to burn yourself out before Christmas even got here.”

Your heart constricted at the genuine concern in his voice, at the way he was always looking out for you, even when you weren’t paying careful enough attention.

“And I have missed you,” he added softly, lifting one of your hands to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to it.

“I’ve missed you, too, honey,” you whispered, your throat clogging with emotion as you thought of the many nights you’d come home later than usual after running to the stores after work, too tired to curl up on the couch and watch a movie with your husband or just get to enjoy his company. “And you’re right—I have been running myself ragged. I can feel it. I’ve been so tired, and I feel like I don’t even have the time to enjoy all my favorite traditions.” You sighed softly, shaking your head. “I just—I just wanted everything to be perfect this year, you know?”

“It always is perfect,” Bob murmured encouragingly, gently stroking the inside of your wrist with his calloused fingertips, his movements slow and soothing.

“I know, but with it being our first married Christmas, I guess I just wanted it to be really perfect. I got it into my head that we needed to start all these new traditions and that I had to keep on top of everything at all times to make sure that it happened, but now I’m realizing that in the process of all that, I lost sight of what’s most important about celebrating our first Christmas as husband and wife—you,” you admitted, reaching up to lovingly cup his cheek in your hand.

He smiled softly at your words, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the inside of your palm. “Sweetheart, the good news is that we have a whole lifetime of making traditions together. So long as it’s you and me, then that’s all I need,” he promised you.

You nodded, a couple stray tears spilling down your cheeks, which you wiped away with a sheepish little laugh. “You’re right. Today was a pretty good start to some Floyd Christmas traditions, I think,” you told him with a grin.

Bob reached out to thumb away the tears sparkling like diamonds on your skin. “I agree,” he smiled. “But the truth is, I don’t care what we’re doing. We could go ice skating on the beach or watch a movie on the couch. We could have a five-star dinner at the Fairmont Grand Del Mar or eat take-out on the kitchen floor.” He glanced around for a moment, just to check if anyone had heard him, his blue eyes laughing as he turned back to you. “I just want to do it with you. That’s what Christmas really means to me, sweetheart. All the other stuff, that’s icing on the cake.”

“I love you so much,” you whispered, leaning across the table and capturing his mouth with your own, the taste of sour cherries and champagne still clinging to his lips.

His fingers tangled in your hair as he cradled the back of your head and kissed you back until you were both sitting breathless in your chairs.

“You’re the love of my life,” he told you. “No matter how many traditions come and go, that’s one thing that will never change.”

As soon as you and Bob got home that night, exhausted in the best way after a perfect day together, you both ran to change into the Christmas pajamas you’d worn last Christmas Eve, then curled up on the couch with steaming mugs of hot cocoa to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas.

“Tired?” Bob asked softly as the Peanuts crew sang “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” while the credits rolled.

“Mmm, a little,” you nodded, lifting your head from where it had been resting on his shoulder.

“Ready to head to bed?” he yawned, pushing the blanket back and rising from the couch before turning to hold his hands out to you.

“Mhm,” you murmured, slipping your hands into your husband’s and allowing him to pull you to your feet. “But not to go to sleep just yet,” you added pointedly.

At your husband’s raised brows, you giggled softly.

“I still have to properly thank you for today,” you reminded him with a playful wink.

You had never seen him move so fast.

That Christmas turned out to be one of the best you’d ever celebrated. Your work party went off without a hitch, the Daggers were already talking about how they needed to make a party at the Floyds’ an annual Christmas tradition, and your families loved getting to spend the holidays together as one huge unit. Every gift you’d purchased was well received and every meal you cooked was touted as the best anyone had ever eaten.

But that wasn’t what made it so special.

As you had been reminded this year, Christmas was about so much more than the planning and the presents and the parties. Those things were nice, sure, but they weren’t what made this time of year so magical.

What made this Christmas so perfect was the handsome man with blue eyes and a wide smile waiting for you beneath the mistletoe.

He was the only gift you needed, today and every day for the rest of your life.

#a lew magoo christmas #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman

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toournextadventure · 1 year

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our little secret ii

Summary: You're never one to turn down a weekend with Lorraine. But everyone seems to think it's the perfect time to remind you of the reality of the situation. At least the rodeo clowns get paid for what they do; you seem to do the job for free. At least you get to have some fun with Lorraine before resuming your Good Girl act.

Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: 18+ smut, swearing, religious trauma, religious homophobia, blasphemy Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (our little secret i) (our little secret ii) (our little secret iii) (our little secret iv)

"Mornin', darlin'."

You kept your eyes trained on Beau in the corral when you felt Huck's arm brush against your own before he slung it over your shoulder. Instinct had you leaning into him. He smelled like fresh sawdust and hay. Smelled like comfort.

"Mornin'," you replied softly.

"Where's your better half?" He asked. That did have you tilting your head to look up into his sparkling eyes and kind smile.

"Which one?" You asked. "RJ's?" You turned to look back at the corral. "Or ours?"

"That idjit ain't nobody's better half." You felt his body shake with a laughter that you couldn't quite hear.

"Ain't that God's honest truth," you said when his fella, bless his heart, tried to wave to the both of you and was toppled over by a stray calf.

"I meant Lorraine," Huck said once you both made sure Beau was on his feet and safe again. "She at another shoot?"

"Yeah," you sighed. Lorraine's smile flashed in your mind's eye. "Guess they're gettin' good at it cause they're gone all the time now."

"Ain't that a good thing though?" He asked. The bell rang, making you jump. You hated when they tested the damn bell. "Means they're doin' somethin' right."

"Guess so," you mumbled to yourself.

You did hope they were doing something right. Lorraine mentioned that she genuinely loved making the films; not always being in them, but the behind-the-scenes, technical side of it. Her face always lit up when she talked about it and you would never wish for her to fail even if it meant RJ had to succeed with her.

But you missed her. You missed having more than two or three days together at a time before she had to leave again. It wasn’t her fault, and you wanted her to have the successful film career she wanted, and you honestly trusted Jackson more than you trusted RJ. None of it really meant much when you couldn’t even talk to her though.

Another calf ran in front of you, beating out the wrangler once again and pulling you back to the present. Seemed they would be the winners over the weekend if they kept it up. It always made for a less than exciting rodeo if the calves kept winning. What fun was there in no one even qualifying? It wasn't like there was any real compet-

"-What the hell is he doin'?" You asked, pointing to where Beau was donning a very specific vest.

"Better not be what I think it is," Huck mumbled before putting his fingers to his lips and whistling.

Beau turned instantly, eyes landing on the both of you for only a moment before he started jogging over. His boots left the smallest cloud of dust behind him until he hopped onto the fence you were both leaning against. He instinctively went to kiss Huck before remembering where he was, redirecting the kiss to your cheek.

"What on God's green earth do you think you're doin' with that on?" You asked as you pulled him by the top of his vest.

“One of the bullfighters got hurt,” he said. “I offered to help since we don’t compete this weekend.”

“Like hell you did,” you said. Just the mere thought of him being in that corral with the bulls had your pulse racing in your ears.

“It’s one weekend, darlin’,” he said with that stupid smile that always got him into trouble. “It’ll be fun-”

“-Beauregard Callaway, you march back over there right this instant and tell them no.”

“You just got full-named,” Huck said quietly enough for only the three of you to hear.

“I can’t just quit-”

“-Huck,” you scolded, turning to look at him next. “Tell him,” you gestured your head to Beau and raised your brows, “before I full-name you next.”

Huck looked between you and Beau as if he was caught between two lions. Which he was, but he better be more afraid of you. Beau was his lover, sure, but you were the scary one. Out of your whole friend group when you were all little, you were the one capable of instilling the fear of god into anyone.

Now was no exception.

“I’d tell ‘em no, baby,” he said to Beau with a shrug.

“That the best you can do?” You scolded again.

“Darlin’, you know he don’t listen to me-”

“-That’s enough, the both of you,” Beau interrupted. “I done said yes already and it’s only one weekend.” He looked you each in the eye before he smiled. “Ain’t never been hurt before.”

“And you ain’t gonna get hurt, right Beauregard?” You asked with a raised brow.

“If the crick don’t rise,” he said with a wink at Huck before hopping off the fence and starting his walk back to the gate.

“You get hurt and I’ll kill you myself!” You shouted after him. He didn’t look back, but flipped his hand up in a half-hearted wave of acknowledgment. Huck laughed beside you and you turned to glare at him next. “You too, Hucksley.”

“Well shit, darlin’, no need to drag me into it,” he grumbled as his smile fell. “I ain’t even the one in trouble.”

“Not yet,” you said quietly before looking back out at the corral once again.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they let Beau go for the rest of the evening, convinced he was good enough for the actual rodeo over the weekend. You made sure to slap him upside the head when he came back around just as an added threat. If he got hurt, you would make it a dozen times worse without hesitation.

“We headin’ to your daddy’s again?” Huck asked when he started the truck up.

“Think so,” you said as you leaned forward between the two front seats. “Momma was s’posed to make supper.” You took note of their linked hands near the center console and smiled to yourself.

Would you ever be able to hold Lorraine’s hand out in the open like that? To just drive around, laughing and singing to the radio without a care in the world? It was finally the ‘80s, surely that had to count for something. Not that the year had anything to do with the many other reasons you weren’t with her.

You’re going to hell, your mind reminded you. It’s a sin. Right. There was a much bigger reason. It continued to eat you from the inside out, picking you apart like a kid feeding bread to the ducks at the pond. Or, what was that old story you heard back in school… Prometheus, that Greek god. The one who had his liver pecked out day after day.

Yeah. Yeah, that’s how it felt.

“Seems your favourite family came over too,” Beau said when he parked the car in front of your house beside the Days’ van. Well, RJ’s van.

“Fantastic,” you mumbled and rolled your eyes.

You didn’t wait for them as you stormed out, slamming the door so hard it shook the truck. No waiting as you stomped up the porch steps, standing outside with your hand on the door handle and taking the moment to just breathe. Daddy couldn’t see you losing it, because what could you possibly say to explain it?

Hey daddy, sorry I’m upset, I’m just tired of seeing the girl I love be with a man that can help her achieve her dreams. Yeah, because that would go over so well.

The moment your breathing had evened out enough to be considered normal, you entered the house to hear excessive talking and laughter. Typical for your household, and it actually brought a smile to your lips. You could hear your parents, and the Days, and the dogs were yappin’ and it was a wonderful atmosphere.

But when you stepped through the kitchen doorway and saw Lorraine sitting on RJ's lap, that sinking feeling settled in your stomach again. He's her boyfriend, you tried to reason, Huck has to watch Beau do the same thing. But that didn't ease the ache from every breath.

"Evenin', y'all," Huck said when he and Beau creeped up behind you. He patted your shoulder lightly before squeezing by you to make his rounds.

"How was setup?" Your daddy asked when Beau shook his hand.

"Smooth as ever," Beau answered with a grin that made your daddy smile.

It made you sick.

"Momma, can I help?" You asked as you walked over to where she was cooking. You didn't want to listen to everyone's conversations.

It was impossible to stop yourself from cocking your head to listen whenever Lorraine spoke. You wished she would speak louder; she was always far too quiet even when she was the most comfortable. A soft voice for a soft girl, your momma had said one day before Lorraine went off to college.

She still tried to hide her face, but not quite so much in your house. Maybe it was the atmosphere everyone created, or just the fact everyone knew it to be a “house of God himself,” thanks to your daddy. You didn’t know, all you knew was you preferred to be in either yours or her house; at least she let you see all of her that way.

Jimmy, Liz, and Roy came in from the back door while you were helping your momma set the food on the table. Jimmy and Liz were all over each other, which was no surprise, and he got a nice smack to the head with momma’s dish towel. Roy on the other hand looked utterly exhausted. Something which was also no surprise.

When your momma announced dinner was ready, everyone took their seats at the large table in the dining room. Huck and Beau sat together, of course, and so did all the other couples. Leaving you to sit with Roy, who gave you a small, reserved smile with a far away look in his eyes.

“Hey, bubba,” you said quietly while everyone else was still talking far too loud.

“Alright y’all,” your daddy said in his booming preacher’s voice, “join hands so we can pray.”

You all did exactly that. Beau gently grasped your left hand while Roy held your right in a vice grip. As your daddy prayed, you could feel the little bones in your hand shift when Roy gripped you tighter, and you knew it would be bruised tomorrow morning. But it seemed to help even his breathing, so you kept your mouth shut until daddy was done.

“Amen,” your daddy said, and everyone mumbled their own amens to follow suit.

Everyone started serving themselves, conversations flowing steadily and easily over the sound of utensils against plates. The dogs were smart, they stayed under the table in between yours and Roy’s legs. They knew you two were most likely to feed them, and what do you know, you always did. You tried to be sneaky about it, hushing them up when they smacked too loud.

Roy didn’t care, he just shamelessly gave them whatever he didn’t want.

“How’s the film business goin’, RJ?” Your daddy asked. You nearly choked on your food at the question.

“Good,” RJ answered with a slow nod as he finished chewing. “I’m hopin’ to have another one finished in a few weeks.”

“Am I ever gonna get to see one of them films?” Your daddy asked.

“Absolutely not,” you said quickly. Far too quickly. Everyone turned to look at you with a mix of emotions. “It just- it ain’t your style,” you tried to explain; a bead of sweat dripped down the back of your neck. “Not a Western, you know?”

“Hmm,” your daddy hummed. “You’re right then, I’ll pass.”

Everyone in the younger group sighed in relief, more than happy that your daddy had agreed with you. Conversation flowed again, going from the rodeo to Lorraine’s college to Jimmy’s seminary. Never to you or Roy, who everyone had determined over the last few weeks was going to stay put. You were no longer going to seminary because someone had to lead the church, and Roy was staying because he had lost his mind.

A typical situation.

“All I know is y’all better be careful out there,” your daddy said. He always seemed to be the voice that brought you out of your own thoughts. It probably meant something deeper that you didn’t want to think too hard about. “The world is turnin’ into a dangerous place.”

“It’s always been dangerous, Pap,” Jimmy chuckled. “We just got more TV and radio to tell us about it.”

“I’m serious, Jim,” your daddy said. “I don’t want none of y’all to get mixed up with those crowds out there.”

“And what crowds would that be, daddy?” You asked. All of you had half-hidden smiles because he usually had something ridiculous to say that you would all agree to and then laugh about later.

“Those damn homosexuals, for one,” he said with a grimace. Everyone around the table froze.

Your eyes stayed glued to the fork you had just stabbed into a potato. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you felt everyone staring, looking around at each other in uncomfortable silence. With your pulse rushing in your ears and your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, you swore everyone else could hear it too.

“Gonna be infectin’ us with their disease if we don’t watch out,” he continued as if he didn’t care how everyone had stopped moving. “Y’all better stay away.”

“They’re just people, Pap,” Jimmy said in a small voice. A blackness started to encroach on your vision.

“Dangerous, Godless people,” your daddy said. “Which is why y’all have to stick together.”

“They’re still kids Robert-”

“-Stay right by God,” he interrupted your momma. "All of y'all are in good, Godly relationships,” you could feel him looking at you but you still couldn’t look up. It felt like the room was closing in on you. "Stay that way."

“We’ll be careful,” RJ said, his voice putting a lump in your throat that you couldn’t swallow.

“Keep him around, Lorraine,” your daddy said. “He’ll take care of you-”

-you slammed your hands on the table and stood up. The ringing in your ears was drowning everything out and that blackness was covering more and more ground. You could feel each individual grain of the wooden table underneath your fingertips.

He’ll take care of you.

“I ain’t feelin’ too good,” you said around the invisible ball of cotton in your mouth. “May I be excused?”

“Sure, honey-”

-you didn’t wait for your momma to finish talking before you left the kitchen through the back door, your feet taking you straight to the barn. He’ll take care of you. Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to say that in front of you? Wasn’t it enough that you had to break bread with RJ without getting it thrown in your face?

He'll take care of you.

You bit back the scream threatening to claw up your throat until you tasted blood. It filled your mouth until you swore you would choke on it. Part of you hoped you would; give you an excuse to end the mental anguish that constantly flooded your thoughts.

He’ll take care of you.

Like hell he would. Like hell. He couldn’t even take care of himself, how could anyone even possibly think he could take care of Lorraine? All he was was a wannabe filmmaker that wouldn’t even dare show y’all his films. So how on god’s green earth would he take care of Lorraine? Your Lorraine?

The dull thud of your boots on the dirt transitioned to the whispered slap of concrete when you walked through the barn doors and everything stopped. Stepping into the barn was like stepping into another world; all the noise and troubles from the outside ceased to exist, even if just for a few moments.

It was replaced by the smell of gravel, dirt, and oil. Occasionally sawdust depending on the time of year. The separation was in the temperature drop, thanks to the partial concrete floor and huge space. There was something hypnotising about the sound of the metal walls creaking in the wind outside, yet everything was painfully still inside.

Something brushed up against your jean-clad leg and you nearly jumped from the intrusion to your thoughts. But then you took notice of the black and white tail curling around your calf and your heart rate started to lower again.

“Hey, Miss Kitty,” you mumbled as you bent down and held your hand out to the grumpy old barn cat. “You get locked in?”

She didn’t even dignify your question with a meow before walking off, her tail slinking away from your leg slowly until she was heading out the barn door. Not even a glance back to say goodbye. The complete nerve of that cat.

“I hope you done get ‘et by a coyote,” you called after her as she continued to sashay away. “Then we can finally quit pickin’ up strays.”

“Be nice to her,” Lorraine said softly, though the barn amplified it. “After all, we picked you up.”

“No, you picked RJ up,” you shot back while you straightened back up. “He just proves my point.”

“It isn’t his fault,” she said just as softly as she stepped closer to you. You took a single step back.

“No it ain’t,” you said. Stay right by God. “Clearly it’s God's.”

“Don’t go down that rabbit hole,” Lorraine warned, stepping forward again and placing a hand on your cheek before you could run away.

Her hand was soft, far too soft to be touching you. Why would she be so gentle with you when you were nothing but hidden anger and blasphemous words? And yet you wouldn’t push her away to spare her from your own sins. You wanted to pull her closer, feel her skin under your touch, have her name fall from your lips like a prayer.

“Please stay,” you whispered when you finally dared to meet her eyes.

The short nails on her fingers scratched lightly against your cheek. It was a little too light, hypnotising in the wrong way. There was nothing grounding about it, you felt like you were in a daze. You needed something more, something to drag you back down to earth where you belonged.

“Please,” you whispered again in a broken voice.

“I can’t,” Lorraine whispered back before leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Everyone is waiting.”

And that right there? That killed you.

—---

At the rate you were going, you might as well start getting paid to be the rodeo clown.

You didn’t know which one of those pea-pickin bastards had done the deed, but someone had invited Lorraine and RJ to the rodeo for the weekend. Part of you highly suspected your mother, but the bashful look on Huck’s face almost made you think it was him. Regardless of who it was, you hadn’t been prepared to deal with the both of them over the weekend.

Was getting rejected in your own barn not punishment enough? Now you had to get publicly humiliated too? Not that anyone knew of your little secret, but it still rubbed salt in the wound. At least you could be down near the corral while RJ and Lorraine were in the stands behind the safety railing. Kept them far enough away from you to relax.

And maybe gave you the perfect position to look at Lorraine, but that was just an added bonus to the situation. It was no less than you deserved for having to put up with all of them for the weekend. You could be forgiven for wanting something pretty to look at while you were having your heart ripped out.

“He looks mighty handsome today, don’t he?” Huck asked, his eyes glued to where Beau was standing around with some of the other volunteers.

“No he don’t,” you said without even looking. “Looks like he needs his ass whooped.”

“You ain’t even lookin’,” he huffed.

You turned your head to finally look where Beau was standing and, you hated to admit, he did look mighty handsome in his new jeans and shirt.

“I looked,” you said, doing your best not to smile. “Still needs his ass whooped.”

"You're so grumpy,” Huck grumbled. You turned your head back to where Lorraine was sitting and felt an icy grip enclose around your heart. "You need to get laid."

“Ain’t that the truth,” you whispered.

The rodeo continued on.

You could tell Huck was getting anxious when the team roping started. Unlike Beau, he actually used the sport in the real world on his neighbour’s ranch. A skill that Beau considered recreational, yet to Huck it was necessary. It made for a fun dynamic, you wouldn’t deny it, especially when they got into arguments about the rules and regulations. Always did make for an exciting night.

But now you could tell he just missed it. He was never one to enjoy sitting on the sidelines, even when it wasn’t his own sport. It was sweet, truly it was, but if he didn’t quit bouncing his leg on the railing and forcing you to suffer with him, you were going to throw him to the bulls. And not the sexy ones.

“I’m beggin’ you to stay still,” you groaned. You reached your hand out and pressed down on his shoulder to ground him into the dirt. “You’re worse than Jim on Christmas.”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’,” Huck said even as you could practically feel his body vibrating from the effort to stay still. “But you are awful pretty when you beg.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” you said as you did your best not to laugh at the ridiculous smile on his face.

"You askin' Lorraine to the hoedown tonight?" Huck asked once the roping was done. Now that you both had a bit of time to look away, it was the perfect time to keep talking.

"Course not," you said with a scrunch of your nose. "She's with RJ."

"Not tonight," he said with a shake of his head and a sniffle; it must have been from the dust. "He's leavin' now."

You turned when Huck gestured his head and saw he was right; RJ was in the process of packing his stuff up. He never had been one for rodeo life. Hell, he didn't even enjoy the events to begin with. All he ever wanted was to try and make a good film out of it and that just wasn't easy enough for him. It'd be a shame if someone finally told him you had to know the sport to film it well.

A damn shame, that was for sure.

"Hurry up before she leaves too," Huck said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You opened your mouth to argue, but he pushed you forward off the railing. The dirt flew into a small cloud around your boots when you landed, and you sent him a quick glare before jogging over to where Lorraine and RJ were standing up. She seemed much more eager to stay, but you knew she wouldn't if she felt she was alone. That damn shotgun had done a number to her, physically and mentally.

"Leavin' already?" You asked as you quickly hopped up on the railing to be face-to-face with the lovely couple.

"Tryin' to," RJ said with a polite smile that said mind your business. "But we'll be back tomorrow."

"There's a hoedown tonight," you said before he could drag Lorraine away. "Me and the boys were wantin' Lorraine to join us." She turned to look at you with the slightest sparkle in her eye. "Like old times."

"Alright," RJ said without hesitation. It was evident he just wanted to get out of the stadium. Rodeos really weren't his cup of tea. "Need a ride home?"

"She can stay with me," you said before Lorraine could even open her mouth. "Also like old times."

Even though you weren't looking at her, you could feel Lorraine's eyes boring holes into the side of your head. She wasn't stupid; she knew exactly what you were doing. "Old times" just meant Huck and Beau ran off while you and Lorraine had your own fun. But there was the catch; only y'all knew what "old times" meant. Everyone else just thought you were acting like kids all over again.

Oh how sweet.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow, Raine," RJ said, leaning over to give her one more kiss. You quickly wiped the instinctive snarl off your face when he pulled away. "Y'all have fun."

"We will," you and Lorraine said at the same time.

You both watched and waited until he was out of sight before you pulled her over the railing. She yelped out in surprise before her feet hit the dirt and you could take her hand, leading her to where Huck was still waiting. He gave her his best smile and pulled her into a hug when you both got close enough.

"So we've successfully kidnapped you for the night?" Huck asked.

"Seems so," Lorraine said with a raised brow. "Would've been nice to have a warnin’ first."

"Keep your watchdog away for more than two seconds and I'll warn you next time," you said.

"He's not a watchdog," Lorraine said as you both climbed up on the railing, her in between you and Huck.

"Oh, my apologies," you said softly, "I meant your parasite."

"Oh hush up,” she mumbled as she slapped both you and Huck, who weren’t even trying to stifle your laughter. “You need to be nicer to him.”

“Actually, the Lord told me personally that I can be mean,” you said after you managed to calm your laughter down. “I ain’t one to disobey the Big Man.”

“You are a blasphemer that’s goin’ to hell,” Lorraine retorted. But the smile on her face was enough to show her intentions.

“You two are disgustin’,” Huck grumbled; he also had a smile. “Just go make out in a stall already and spare me the tension.”

“Oh hush up,” you and Lorraine said in unison.

“As if you and Beau aren’t makin’ kissy faces at each other all the time,” Lorraine continued.

“You have no idea,” you said, loving the light in her eyes when she looked at you. “You should see ‘em when we go out to eat, you’d think I was nothin’ more than last week’s sermon.”

“Laugh it up,” Huck said with a nod as he looked out at the corral. You hadn’t paid attention to the event and noticed it was finally coming to an end. About time, you thought with a smile. “Once you two get some alone time then we’ll talk.”

“We can handle ourselves much better than you two,” you said quickly, the timer going off immediately after and making you jump. Lorraine’s hand on your arm helped you settle rather quickly.

Huck opened his mouth to say something else but was soon distracted by something in the corral. You and Lorraine shared a smile when you noticed Beau was on his way over. Tease as much as you did, they were rather adorable. It was a genuine love and admiration, one that you didn’t even see in your own parents, one that you wished you could have a little more easily.

“Hey, Rainey,” Beau said as he jumped onto the fence and planted a sloppy kiss on Lorraine’s cheek. “Nice to see you unshackled for once.”

“Is this all y’all ever talk about?” Lorraine asked.

All three of you looked at each other before giving a few nods. “Yeah.”

“I changed my mind,” she said with a nod to herself, “you’re all goin’ to hell.”

“You love us,” Beau said with a grin and another kiss to her forehead. She tried to push him away halfheartedly before leaning into his touch. “What were y’all talkin’ about before I came over?”

“These fine ladies think they can keep their hands to themselves better than we can,” Huck said with a raised brow.

“That so?” Beau asked.

“God’s truth,” you said with as much attitude as you could muster. Around you, the rodeo fell into controlled chaos as everyone started setting up for tomorrow’s events.

“Then how about we have ourselves a little wager,” Beau said as he locked eyes with you.

“Lay it on me, stud,” you shot back.

“If you beautiful ladies give in first, you,” he pointed at you, “have to go watch Lorraine film her next film.”

“Wait, hang on-”

“-and if you lose?” Lorraine asked, interrupting you quickly. The competitiveness was building behind her eyes, you could see it.

“We’ll go with Lorraine,” Beau said, “and we’ll even film a scene.”

“Hold up, baby-”

“-you’re on,” Lorraine interrupted Huck. She reached her hand out to shake Beau’s. “Y’all are gonna look so pretty on camera.”

“I don’t like this game anymore,” you said, looking at each of them hoping to see mercy in someone’s eyes.

“Me either,” Huck whispered.

You both looked at each other and sighed softly. What had the two of you done to fall for such competitive people? And how come Lorraine was the only one in this situation who had nothing to lose? You were starting to get the sneaking suspicion that they all just wanted to watch you squirm.

It was going to be a very long night.

—---

“Hey Huck?�� You said when you brought the next round of beers over to the small table the four of you had commandeered.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love,” you said with a sigh as you both looked out at the dancefloor where Lorraine and Beau were two-stepping like it was their last night on earth.

“You and me both,” he said with his own dreamy sigh.

The music from the local band was loud, almost painfully so, but you didn’t entirely care. Not when you were warm from the alcohol and laughter echoing through the barn. RJ had once called the run-down bar a death trap, and you couldn’t disagree with him. The wooden roof and walls had holes that no one cared to fix up and dust constantly fell from the rafters. But it was home to most of you, a place where everyone could get away and have some fun on a Saturday night.

Hell, it was where you had first kissed Lorraine. Your eyes trailed up to look at the dilapidated loft. If you focused, you could see the exact spot where Lorraine had made the move, pushing you against the termite-eaten wall and kissed you as if she wouldn’t get another chance. Lucky for you both, you got plenty more chances.

Laughter from a very specific person brought you out of your memories, and you looked back at the dancefloor to see Beau twirling Lorraine around. Her face was lit up with a big, toothy, open mouthed smile that you couldn’t recall seeing since the accident. For once, she looked like she didn’t care when she twirled and exposed her scars. Like she was just that normal, carefree girl you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“I think I wanna marry him,” Huck said softly.

“You and me both,” you repeated what he said earlier as you decided to chug the rest of your beer.

Don’t let anyone hear, your inner voice reminded you. Lest you get lynched. Right. Right, that was entirely a possibility. You looked around quickly, fully aware that no one would have heard Huck but still feeling that paranoia wash over you. Suddenly the beer and the atmosphere didn’t feel so homey.

“You look like someone spit in your cup,” Beau said, the sudden sound of his voice making you jump. “You alright?”

“Peachy,” you said with a smile, quickly finding Lorraine finding her seat beside you. “Just thinkin’, is all.”

“‘Bout what?” Lorraine asked as she grabbed the beer that was probably starting to turn warm. The snarl of her lips after that first sip confirmed it.

“How you better finish that beer whether it’s warm or not,” you said with a raised brow. “Paid good money for it.”

“You mean you didn’t flash a little smile and get ‘em for free?” Beau asked as he too took a sip of his now warm beer. He at least managed to play it off a little better than Lorraine.

“Most certainly not,” you said with a shake of your head. “I’ve gotta preach to most of these people in the mornin’, can’t have ‘em givin’ me free beer.”

“Wow,” Lorraine said with a quiet exhale as she leaned forward on the table, resting her chin in her hand. “Your life must be so tough.”

“It is,” you played along. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“That in the Bible?” Huck asked.

“Not quite,” you said. “You’d know that if you went to church like you were s’posed to.”

“I fear I’d catch fire the second I stepped foot in that chapel,” he said with a laugh.

You’ll all catch fire.

Right.

You all continued talking, no longer interested in dancing as the music continued to drown out your conversations. Lorraine managed to scoot her stool a bit closer until her thigh was pressed against yours, and you very nearly rested your hand on her inner thigh. A cleared throat and a look from Huck was all it took to remind you of where you were, and you quickly placed your hand back in your own lap.

By the time you all started to get tired, most of the people had already gone home. The band was packing up and the makeshift bartender was officially out of alcohol. No doubt everyone would be ready to resume the hoedown tomorrow night after the rodeo finals, but for the night, everyone was done. The four of you followed suit, sending your goodnights to the few remaining stragglers as you all piled into Huck’s truck.

“Which home?” He asked; the most sober of you all, bless his little heart.

“We could all go back to mine,” you said as you leaned forward between the two front seats. “We’ve got the two lofts in the barn.”

“That work with y’all?” Huck asked, looking at Beau and Lorraine. They both nodded their agreement. “Then buckle up.”

You sat back in your seat and immediately felt Lorraine lay her head on your shoulder. If the amount of drinks she had gone through were any indication, she was properly buzzed. The warmth of her hand resting on your thigh, scratching lightly, was another perfect indication.

“Hands to yourself,” Beau said as you met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’d hate for you to lose the bet.”

“You still goin’ on about that?” Huck asked.

“You said we couldn’t fuck,” Lorraine said with a sleepy voice, “not that we couldn’t touch.”

“Language,” you scolded her lightly. She didn’t even seem fazed in the slightest.

“I’m watchin’ you,” Beau said even as he closed his eyes. “Bunch ‘a cheaters.”

“Did I tell you how unfair this bet is?” You asked before lifting your hand to scratch at Lorraine’s scalp. She practically purred under your touch.

“It’s plenty fair,” Beau said without looking back.

“All three of y’all can get indecent whenever you want,” you said, “I can’t.”

“We can fix that,” Lorraine mumbled.

“Hush and go to sleep,” you whispered before pressing a quick kiss to her head and sitting back up. “It ain’t fair.”

“She’s got a point, baby,” Huck said with a small shake of his head. “We got her at a disadvantage.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you let your girl agree to the bet,” Beau said anyway. “You can always admit defeat.”

“Go to hell, Beauregard,” you mumbled, to which both men up front laughed like hyenas.

Lorraine was thoroughly asleep by the time you all pulled up to the barn. Thankfully it was far enough away from the house that your arrival wouldn’t wake anyone up. The only potential issue would be if Roy was sleeping in the barn, but he had started hiding away in the shed a few hundred yards away, so you weren’t too worried. If anything, you would just let the boys sleep in the barn while you took Lorraine inside to your room.

“Come on, baby,” you whispered into Lorraine’s ear accompanied by a slight shake of her shoulders.

She grumbled once, not even saying any words, but slowly sat up. Her eyes were barely open and her hair was mused just enough to make her look like a little kid again. It reminded you of all your sleepovers, all those nights before you had realised your feelings for her. The good ole days.

You helped ease her out of the back of the truck. Without any hesitation, you turned slightly and squatted down until she wrapped her arms around your neck and you stood back up. Even though she was nearly asleep again, you couldn’t help but think of how light she was on your back. Sometimes you forgot just how small she was, how fragile she could be.

“You two on the right?” Huck asked as he guided his own partner around; it seemed Beau had drunk a bit too much too.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “y’all’s stuff should still be up on the left.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “Y’all get some sleep.”

“Night Huck,” you said with a smile before making the way up to the loft that you had claimed as yours as soon as it had been built.

It was a nice little spot, you wouldn’t try to hide it. There weren’t any real walls, but you had hung some curtains around the perimeter to create a sense of privacy. Tucked into the far corner was a single bed, something more reminisce of an army cot than anything else, with only an excess of blankets and a pillow on top. A few records scattered around, an old record player, and your grandpappy’s old guitar were the only remaining decorations.

You were gentle when you placed Lorraine on the cot, being careful as she slid off and laid on her side. She looked peaceful, with her hair no longer hiding her face. When would she believe you when you told her she was the most beautiful girl in the world? Would she ever believe you? If not then you needed to make sure RJ told her, because she deserved to feel loved again.

“Come here,” Lorraine said in a sleepy voice, pulling you out of your own head. Her arms were lifted as she made grabby hands at you, and how could you possibly say no to that?

With practiced ease, you toed your boots off and left them at the foot of the bed before climbing in. You were still in jeans and your button up but that was alright. There was no way you were going to be able to get Lorraine into pyjamas, so you would sleep in your clothes as well in solidarity.

“I’ve missed you,” she said softly, immediately pulling you close until she could press her lips to your neck.

“I missed you too,” you said as you tilted your head back to give her a little more access.

“A lot,” she continued. With a bit of shuffling she finally settled again, and you felt the warmth of her hand sliding under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“Raine, baby,” you said when her hand continued to move up to play with the strap of your bra, “I ain’t losin’ this bet.”

“Sure you are,” she said.

“I don’t care what you film,” you started even as she pushed you onto your back and rolled on top of you, “but I’m not too keen on watchin’.”

“How will they know?” Her lips started trailing up your neck, leaving an inferno behind with each kiss. “They won’t be comin’ with us.”

“Raine.”

But you couldn’t really argue when her hand finally slipped under your bra, just the mere feel of her skin on your breast enough to have you exhaling harshly. Paired with the warmth of her lips on your jaw? Clearly it had been far too long because you were almost ready to come undone right then and there.

“Lose the bet,” she whispered into your ear. You let out a shaky exhale when her thumb brushed lightly against your nipple. “For me?”

Well now, how could you say no to that? Without any ounce of care, you grabbed Lorraine’s face and pulled her to your lips. She tasted of cheap beer and tequila and you didn’t care. Her lips were soft and you could feel her breath tickling your face and you just wanted more of her.

In the privacy of the loft you had no shame in the both of you stripping. She was still buzzed and was fumbling around like a horny teenager, but you supposed you were too in the excitement. You weren’t even helping each other, you were too eager to rid yourselves of the confines of clothing. At one point Lorraine nearly fell off the bed in an attempt to get her pants off, and you both had to sit and recover from the laughter you couldn’t be bothered to contain.

She was still giggling by the time she crawled back on top of you, her skin blazing hot against your own. God, you couldn’t remember the last time you had not only had the time, but the privacy to see all of her again. She sat straddling you and even though you hadn’t done anything yet, you could feel her arousal coating your stomach.

Her hands fell right below your breasts, grabbing you by the ribs to steady herself. It was clear that she was still intoxicated enough to be a little clumsy, but very much sober enough to know what she was doing. Although you certainly weren’t going to take the initiative, more than happy to let her take the lead with whatever she was comfortable with.

You rested your hands on her hips and looked at her while her eyes were closed. The summer had done her skin well, leaving her a good deal darker than she had been only a few months ago. Even the scars across her neck and face were a bit darker, not quite so startling in contrast to the rest of her. Even her freckles had become more apparent, and you wished you had a night to just count each and every one of them.

“You’re starin’,” Lorraine said above you, her eyes finally open as she looked down at you. “Why?”

“I just think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whispered.

Even in the dark you could see the slight flush on her cheeks. She let her head fall until her hair covered her face. You sat up quickly, keeping your hands on her hips so she wouldn’t fall. Her legs wrapped around your waist as you let her readjust and you could feel her breath on your face once again.

“If you really thought that,” she started as she let her hands trail up the sides of your breasts and over your chest until they rested on either side of your neck, “then you would lose this bet for me.”

“You just wanna watch me squirm,” you said. She leaned closer until her chest was pressed lightly against yours.

“Yes I do,” she mumbled against your lips before kissing you once again.

Her grip on your neck tightened as she tried to pull you closer. You gasped when she nipped your bottom lip, sighing quickly after when you felt her tongue sooth it immediately after. God, what she could do to you with only the simplest of touches. The slightest scratch of her nails on the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine.

You gave up on letting her take control the moment you felt her attempt to grind on you. There hadn’t been near enough teasing, but you could already feel how wet she was without even touching her. Not that you were complaining of course, you wanted nothing more than to show her how much you had missed her, how beautiful you really thought she was.

One of your thumbs rubbed circles on her hip while the other hand ran across her stomach and stopped on her pubic bone. She tried to grind again, whining into your mouth when she was met with nothing but air. Your thumb rubbing across her skin, almost touching her clit but not quite.

“Baby,” she whined.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” you whispered against her lips. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded quickly, her hips moving just enough to catch your attention.

“I’ll stop if you’re too loud,” you continued even as you let your thumb fall a little lower. “Understand?”

“Yes,” she said.

That time when she moved her hips she was met with your thumb, and her breathy little moan sounded beautiful as her head fell to your shoulder. Oh she was so sensitive, and you hadn’t even properly touched her yet. Blame it on the alcohol, or RJ’s lack of ability, or both, but you wouldn’t complain. A needy Lorraine was a fun Lorraine.

“Touch me already,” Lorraine whined.

“So impatient,” you said as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to that space right below her ear. The one that always had her squirming whether it was intentional or not.

“You can love me later,” she continued. “Just fuck me.”

“That what you really want?” You asked, but she was already nodding her head against your shoulder before you finished the question. “Whatever you want, princess.”

Lorraine was so wet you didn’t even have to worry as you slid two fingers into her effortlessly. She bit your shoulder to keep herself quiet like the good girl she was. It took everything in you not to moan at how tight she was around you. No matter how many times you had her, it always caught you off guard in the best of ways.

“I ain’t losin’ for nothin’, sweetheart,” you said into Lorraine’s ear. “I wanna watch you make it up to me.”

“You’re an asshole,” she mumbled, yet it didn’t stop her from riding your fingers nice and slow. “That’s it, baby.”

She growled in frustration before sitting up again, placing her hands on your shoulders to use as leverage. You let her work herself up, refusing to move even a muscle to help her. If you were going to lose the bet, you were going to milk everything you could out of her as payback.

The rise and fall of her chest as she crawled to the edge was hypnotising. You knew she couldn’t get there quickly, let alone on her own, but you wanted to enjoy the view. The way she fucked herself on your fingers and let her mouth fall open when she angled her hips just right.

But when Lorraine’s head fell forward to rest against yours, you took mercy. Even at the extremely awkward angle that would leave your wrist sore in the morning, you thrust your fingers up to meet her, smiling to yourself at the guttural moan that left her mouth. Your free hand left her hip and moved around so you could rub her clit, her noises rising in pitch at the added sensation.

“Baby,” she exhaled. It almost sounded whiney, which meant she was close. She was oh so close.

“Let go, Rainey,” you said.

Even with her face so close to yours, you could still see the look on her face when she came. The silent scream, the way her eyes squeezed shut. It was a beautiful look that you didn’t think you would ever get tired of. Her nails dug into your shoulders and you could feel the intoxicating sting as they broke skin; you would need to be careful with your shirts for the next few days.

Her hips continued to stutter against your hands, erratic movements that you would have teased her for if you hadn’t been so entranced by her very being. You waited until her hips stilled before removing your fingers, making sure to be slow and gentle so as not to startle her. But then you pulled her closer again, feeling her arms wrap around your neck as you held her in your lap.

“There’s my good girl,” you whispered into her ear before kissing her temple. “You did so good.”

“I-”

-You both stopped talking quickly when you heard something. Something that sounded disgustingly familiar. Lorraine sat up in your lap and cocked her head to the side, listening intently. Maybe you had imagined it, surely it hadn’t been real. Right? There was no way.

Then you heard it again.

“Oh my god,” Lorraine groaned; you saw her smile before her head hit your shoulder again.

“Should I say something?” You asked. She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted yet again.

“Don’t embarrass me,” she said.

“Never,” you whispered and kissed her head before shifting around. You placed your hands over both of her ears. “The Lord’s watchin’ y’all!”

“Fuck off, hypocrit,” Huck called back. His voice echoed off the walls of the barn. “Y’all ain’t so quiet either.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you.” Lorraine’s body shook above you with silent laughter. “I’m tryin’ to sleep like the Godly woman I am.”

“Shut the hell up,” Beau finally cut in, “you’re killin’ the mood.”

“Good night, heathens!” You called back. “Don’t wake the Devil.”

You and Lorraine both stifled your laughter as you laid back down in the cot. It was difficult to keep yourselves quiet. She shushed you and listened, but neither one of you could hear anything else.

“Either they’re more quiet, or you ruined their night,” Lorraine whispered.

“Hope I ruined it,” you grumbled. “If I have to lose, so do they.”

“And you call me competitive,” she said in her sleepy voice.

“You are,” you said with another kiss to her head. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“You just love me.” Her voice got softer with each word.

“Yeah I do,” you said just as softly.

She didn’t say another word, falling asleep quickly thanks to the alcohol and orgasm. Her arm stayed draped around your bare waist as you held her closer, feeling her skin sticking to yours with the mix of sweat. Your father’s voice condemned you in your head, doing its best to ruin the feeling of peace and security you felt with Lorraine in your arms.

But in that moment, you simply closed your eyes and held her tighter. You were going to enjoy every moment with her until the day you died. Heaven could keep its angels; you would keep yours.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #lorraine day smut #jenna ortega x reader

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pedroscurls · 1 year

Text

Innocent Eyes

Character(s): Javier Peña and Reader (female, second person POV) Summary: Javier and his partner, Steve Murphy, finally have one night off. So, when they go to a local bar to unwind, Javier certainly wasn’t expecting you to walk through the doors. Word Count: 5,251 Author's Note: So, this one-shot originated from a dream I had last night lol and it was all I could think of all day. I hope you all enjoy this! Happy reading🫶 Warning: smut!!! (idk if this needs to go into detail, but javi gets it innnn🥵)

Javier was exhausted, tired from working around the clock just to get an inch closer to catching Pablo Escobar, but every time they got close enough to even reach him, he was gone before they could even act. So tonight, instead of choosing to stay in and get rest, Steve managed to convince Javier to just have a couple of beers with him at the local bar near their apartment.

If anything Javier knew to do, it was to distract himself of the reality of his life. He already had his mind set that he would take a woman home to help him further distract himself from how helpless he felt whenever he went to work. No matter how much effort he put in, how much intel he received, it just was never enough.

And as he was sitting in a small booth across from Steve, his eyes wandered. There had already been plenty of women that came up to their table, trying to get the two men to buy them drinks, but Javier didn’t find any of the women appealing enough to bring them back home. Steve was off-limits, married, so it wasn’t like he could even take any of them home either; he had always been so faithful to his wife, Connie.

“So, plan for tomorrow is–”

Javier shook his head. He was leaning back against his seat, giving him a clear view of the entire bar. Bringing the cigarette back to his lips, Javier just glanced over at Steve.

“I really don’t want to talk about work.”

“Right, right,” Steve said. “You’re right. We’re supposed to unwind, relax…”

“Whatever the hell that means,” he shrugged. “How’s Connie?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders, looking over at his partner. “Fine.”

Javier chuckled, letting out a puff of smoke. “Can’t imagine that this is what she expected.”

“It isn’t,” Steve replied. “But she’s stuck by my side through everything. This is just another thing we gotta get through.”

“You’re a lucky man, Steve.” Javier said.

“And you? Never had a woman you ever thought of settling down with?”

For a brief moment, Javier’s mind drifted to Lorraine. He had been so close to getting married, but even now, he couldn’t imagine being a married man while having to deal with Pablo Escobar and the demons that only seemed to come out at night. He was envious of Steve, having Connie who was a strong enough woman to stick by him, no matter how difficult it would be.

All the women Javier had been with never had gotten close as Lorraine did and even then, he wasn’t sure that Lorraine was the woman he was meant to be with (hence leaving her at the altar). Besides, Javier didn’t think he could even go through the stages of being in a relationship anymore. The talking, the getting to know each other, the sharing of secrets… the women that Javier encountered didn’t want that either, so it just worked out. It was always just a few nights shared, not bothering to talk about each other; it was just another distraction.

“Not the settling down type,” Javier replied, letting out a quiet laugh. “I’m fine with the way things are.”

“Ah, you mean the women at the brothels?” Steve chuckled. “You know what you’re doing, man. As long as you’re clean, guess that’s all that matters.”

“I’m not stupid. I get tested regularly. Besides,” Javier said, downing his drink. “Why in the hell are we talking about my sex life?”

Steven laughed, raising a hand in the air to get the waitress to come by to the table so that they could order another round. “Fair enough.”

A group of women came by to the table, giggling and trying to entice both Javier and Steve by leaning over the table, pushing their breasts together and towards their direction. Javier couldn’t help but look, his eyes obviously raking over their frames. They were beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but the fact that they were exuding desperation was a complete turn-off for him. Usually, Javier didn’t mind, especially if he needed to distract himself, but for some reason, tonight, it wasn’t working for him.

But, as the doors swung open to the bar, Javier turned his attention towards the door. Then, when you entered the bar, he felt himself become immediately intrigued. You looked to be lost, looking around the bar like you had no idea where you had just stumbled in. You definitely didn’t look like the rest of the women that were in the bar either. The dress you were wearing was black compared to the other colorful dresses that the other women were wearing, but it was still skintight, though reaching just above your knees. It looked as if you had barely worn any makeup, except for the dark red lipstick that Javier found inviting, practically begging for him to nip and bite as he pleased.

As you skimmed the room to find the people you were supposed to meet, you noticed him. He was leaning back against his seat, white button shirt underneath a dark denim jacket. The cigarette hung between his lips and his arm draped over the back of the seat. He didn’t look at all the least bit interested about the women who were at his table and when you noticed that he was looking back at you, a blush immediately appeared on your cheeks. You gave him a smile and brought your hand up to tuck the hair away from your face.

When the women at Javier and Steve’s table realized they weren’t interested, they scoffed and decided to walk away, blocking Javier’s view of you after he had locked eyes with you. When he saw you smile and noticed that you were looking at him too, he felt an unusual feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Javi,” Steve said, gently reaching over to nudge at his arm. “Hello?”

“What?” Javier replied, pulling his eyes away from searching the room for you and looking back at Steve. “Sorry. My mind was–”

“Occupied by the woman who entered the bar. You never quit, do you?” Steve chuckled.

Javier rolled his eyes. “Are you getting the next round or what?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

When the waitress came by the table, Steve ordered them another round of beers. Javier, on the other hand, kept looking around the room and when he finally found you with your back facing him, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander your frame. The dress clung to your curves in all the right places, but the length was still modest enough that you weren’t showing too much, unlike the other women and especially unlike the group of friends you were with.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. I’ll be back,” Javier said. He stood from the booth and finished his cigarette before he decided to walk in your direction. He knew he had the confidence to be able to come up to any woman and start a conversation, but he wasn’t sure why he was now feeling nervous.

As he inched closer to you, Javier could hear the voices and laughter amongst your group. But when you turned around, Javier felt like his breath was taken from him. Your group of friends dispersed onto the dance floor and you remained, probably because he was looking at you without saying a word.

“Um, hi?” you finally said, breaking him out of his trance.

“Hi,” Javier replied, clearing his throat. “Hey.”

You looked up at him and tilted your head. Your eyes were luring him in, so innocent and pure like you hadn’t yet been corrupted by the world. He had to wonder why you were here in Colombia, what your name was, what you did for a living, the things you liked and disliked… It certainly went against everything he had known. Women served as a distraction for Javier and he never thought that learning about the women he slept with was worth his time, but here he was, wanting to learn every little thing about you.

“You okay?” You asked. He was quiet, which was surprising to you, especially since he had seemed to exude so much confidence and charm.

“Sorry,” Javier chuckled nervously. “I’m Javier. You can call me Javi, or Javier, or whatever you’d like.”

You smiled and Javier bit at his lower lip at the sight. “Javier,” you repeated. “That’s a very nice name.”

“And yours?”

You told him your name and Javier smiled. He found himself being unable to look away, despite the loud music and chatter that filtered the entire bar.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Javier asked.

You looked over his shoulder at your friends who looked to be unbothered by your lack of presence on the dancefloor and you glanced at the booth that you had noticed Javier was sitting in when you walked in and noticed the man he was with was sipping his beer.

“What about your friend?”

Javier looked over his shoulder at Steve and shrugged. “He’s fine. He’s a big boy who can handle being alone for a few.”

“Well, in that case, I’d love a drink.”

—

An hour later, Steve had decided to call it a night, raising a hand to wave at Javier who was deep in conversation with you. Your friends had also decided to go to another bar, making sure that you were okay before they left. And now, you and Javier were sitting next to each other at the bar, inches separating your bodies.

“So, you’re visiting,” Javier repeated. “Why Colombia?”

“One of my friends is getting married and this is her bachelorette party. She wanted to go to Colombia, so… Here I am,” you replied, sipping your drink. “What about you? You don’t have an accent, so I’m assuming you aren’t from here.”

“I’m actually from Texas. I’m here for work,” he replied. Javier found himself captivated by your presence, by the innocent look in your eyes, by the way your smile managed to give him butterflies. Javier Peña had to wonder if this was love at first sight… How cliche. He made sure to make a mental note not to tell Steve, or else he’d probably never hear the end of it.

“Oh?” You asked, intrigued. “Can I ask what you do?”

Javier bit the inside of his cheek. He looked down at you and tilted his head. He knew that he had to be careful with telling people what he did for a living, especially since he was going after the most wanted man who had so many people supporting him. If he wasn’t careful, Javier knew he would be the next person on Pablo Escobar’s hit list.

“Can I trust you?” he asked quietly. Javier leaned forward, his body facing you. His legs were spread apart to give some space for your seat. You, however, were facing forward and you looked over at him, biting your lower lip as he inched closer to you.

“Is your job top secret, Javi?” you whispered.

Javi. The way you said his name sent the blood rushing straight down towards the center of his pants. In fact, he wanted to hear more of it, wanted to hear you moan and scream his name in pleasure.

“Ay, bonita,” Javier whispered, lips hovering near your ear. “No tienes idea.” You have no idea.

You cleared your throat and turned your head to face him, seeing him up close in your personal space. He was searching your facial expressions, seeing if this was something you didn’t want, but when he saw you lean closer to him, Javier didn’t move, didn’t falter. He noticed the pink hue in your cheeks, the anxious biting of your lower lip, and he certainly noticed the way your legs squeezed together.

“Y–You speak Spanish,” you whispered lowly.

“Sí, bonita.”

“I really want to kiss you,” you admitted. “But I want you to know that I don’t always do this and I’m not that type of girl and–”

Javier chuckled quietly. “We don’t have to do anything, bonita. I’m fine with just talking.”

“Really? Even if I want to kiss you and possibly invite you back to my hotel room?”

Javier cleared his throat. He wanted that so badly, but the innocence in your eyes, the purity that you exuded made Javier want to take his time with you. He wanted you to be comfortable, safe, and absolutely certain of what you wanted before he took you to his bed.

“Something tells me, bonita, that you aren’t completely sure and I’m okay with that.”

You sighed in relief. You were telling the truth. This wasn’t what you were used to. Even back home, you had been the only one in your friend group that didn’t partake in one night stands, but this was different. Colombia wasn’t home and you probably wouldn’t ever see Javier again after tonight, so you figured that you should try something different. You were sure that Javier was going to agree without question and take you back to your hotel room, but when he sensed your hesitation that this wasn’t something that you were absolutely sure you wanted, it only made you want him more.

“But I still do want to kiss you. Can we do that?”

Javier grinned. He nodded and cupped your cheek, running his thumb along your jawline. “Me encantaría, bonita.” Then, he leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against yours, letting his eyes fall shut. Javier felt you kiss back immediately, almost leaning forward out of your seat to move your lips against his with fervor. His other hand moved to your seat, bringing you and it closer to him. As a result, you let out a gasp which parted your lips for him. He smiled against your lips and darted his tongue out to run along yours, hearing you quietly whimper against him.

Javier felt the center of his pants tighten at the sound and he felt your tongue eagerly run along his as both of your lips moved against one another. The hand on your cheek moved to the nape of your neck, your hair entwining in the spaces between his fingers. With a gentle squeeze, Javier gently pulled away and pulled your head back. Your eyes remained shut and you tilted your head up, feeling his lips move along your jawline. Javier dragged his teeth against you, nipping gently as his lips moved from your jawline to the side of your neck.

This certainly wasn’t just talking.

“Javi,” you whimpered quietly, moving your hands to his thighs.

Javier smiled against you and pulled away, licking his lips as he looked at you. “Sorry, got carried away there.”

“You really know what you’re doing, huh?” you smiled, biting your lower lip.

“I know a few things.”

“I promise that I don’t go around kissing strangers. I’m actually a real good girl.”

Javier cleared his throat at that. He tried to think of something else, to think of anything else, to stop himself from getting an erection right here, right now. He wanted to test that out, to see how truly a good girl you really were.

“I think you know what you’re doing too,” he replied.

You blushed and bit the inside of your cheek. “I know a few things too,” you winked.

Javier chuckled and leaned forward to gently peck your lips. “Wanna grab some food? I know a good spot nearby.”

“I’d love to.”

—

You and Javier were sitting next to each other at a local taco shop. He had paid for your food, which you thanked him by giving him a kiss on his lips. He wanted to kiss you longer, but you had pulled away before he could get too carried away. And now, you were both laughing with each other, taco in hand, and it felt like you had known him forever, like this was normal.

“My dad owns a ranch back home,” Javier smiled. “I used to pretend to sleep in to get out of doing my chores,” he chuckled.

You laughed quietly, looking over at him. “Sounds like a teenager thing to do.”

“Oh, trust me, my dad caught on pretty quick. Didn’t last long.”

“Is he a strict man? Your dad, I mean?”

Javier shrugged. Since coming to Colombia, he hadn’t ever talked about his personal life; it just didn’t seem right to mix work with his life at home, but he found it so easy to talk to you, to talk about his life from before Pablo Escobar, from before Colombia, from before the DEA.

“I wouldn’t say strict,” Javier replied. “He's a man of few words, but he’s taught me everything I know. The man I am today is because of him.”

You smiled. “Sounds like a great man. Do you miss home?”

Javier didn’t know how to answer that. He hadn’t been back home in years, too focused on trying to catch Pablo Escobar and not wanting to go back home without anything to show for it.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s been a long time.” Javier took a bite of his taco, glancing over at you. When he swallowed his food, he decided to change the topic of conversation.

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Two younger brothers,” you answered. “But my parents were strict,” you laughed. “Being the eldest and the only girl came with a lot of responsibilities and expectations.”

“Ah,” Javier replied. “Sounds about right.”

“Growing up, I always wanted to leave home, get out of that small town, but,” you shrugged. “I always found my way back.”

“Why’s that?”

“Always felt like they needed me in one way or another,” you replied. “Coming here, to Colombia, was definitely out of my comfort zone. I’m used to people relying on me, but I would be lying if I said that this vacation is only because of my friend’s bachelorette party.”

“And what else is this vacation for then, bonita?”

You set your taco down and wiped your hands. You turned to face him, looking up at him with big, soft eyes. Javier bit the inside of his cheek. The way you looked at him made him feel all sorts of things; you were looking at him like he mattered, like the things he had done since coming to Colombia didn’t define him, like he wasn’t a disappointment, and he found himself craving more and more of the feeling you were stirring up inside of him.

“Well, I wanted to have fun,” you replied. “I wanted to do things I don’t normally do, to step out of being that good girl that people expect me to be.”

Javier bit his lower lip. There you go again, saying those words like it wouldn’t cause a reaction out of him, but the way you were looking at him and the way you were inching closer, the more and more he realized that you were becoming increasingly sure that you wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

“Oh, so you want to be bad?” Javier asked, running his fingertips along your back.

“With the help of a certain someone,” you replied.

“And who might that be, bonita?”

You leaned into him, biting your lower lip. “I’m sure you know the answer to that already, Javi.”

He growled lowly and leaned down to capture your lips heatedly. Immediately, you melted into him and moved your hands to his chest as you gently nipped at his lower lip. Javier groaned against you, pulling away as he felt the center of his pants tighten.

“Tell me what you want, bonita…”

You were breathing heavily against him, pulling back enough to look up at him. “You… I want you, Javier.”

—

Javier had been peppering kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders as you tried to unlock your hotel room door. His hands were resting on your hips as he nipped gently at your skin, causing you to push back against him to feel the throbbing bulge beneath his pants. He groaned at the sensation and pulled you flush against him. When he heard a quiet thank god when the door unlocked, he pulled away and walked you both inside.

Javier felt you pull away to turn the lights on as he followed you towards the bed. He watched as you took a seat at the edge of it, immediately reaching down to remove your heels. Once they were off, Javier watched as you kicked them to the side. He had already removed his denim jacket, tossing it somewhere in the room.

He was unbuttoning his shirt when he saw you look up at him, reaching back to pull the zipper down on your dress. Javier grunted to himself at the sight of you looking up at him so innocently and so pure that he wanted your eyes focused on him when he finally got the chance to fuck you.

Javier shrugged the shirt off from his body, reaching down to unbuckle his belt to relieve some pressure in his pants. You stood from the bed and turned around, motioning for Javier to pull the zipper down. It was obvious that you could have done it yourself, but wanting Javier to do it instead made him even more excited.

Javier’s pants were undone and he reached up to drag the zipper slowly down to reveal more of your bare skin. When he realized you hadn’t worn a bra, he used his free hand to squeeze himself in excitement. He leaned forward, peppering kisses along more of your exposed skin. Once the zipper was completely undone, Javier took a step back to watch the dress pool around your ankles to reveal that you were now only just wearing a very skimpy lacey, black thong.

“Fuck me, bonita,” he whispered, watching as you turned around to reveal your exposed front.

“I’m trying,” you smiled, letting out a quiet giggle that made his member throb even further.

Javier pushed his pants down his legs, kicking them to the side. You gasped in surprise when you noticed that he hadn’t been wearing any underwear, his manhood standing erect and leaking at the tip.

“Well, seems like I’m the only one naked.” Javier said, reaching down to tug on his length.

You nodded in agreement, tucking your thumbs into the waistband of your thong and pulling it down your legs. Once it reached your ankles, you pushed it aside and slowly lowered yourself to your knees. You looked up at him, licking your lips as Javier slowly stepped forward.

“Can I?”

Javier growled. “So polite,” he said, stroking his member a few times before he let his tip rest against your lips. “Wow, you really are a good girl, aren’t you?”

You smiled, parting your lips and running your tongue along his tip. The taste of him settled on your tongue and you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking gently as you brought a hand up to stroke the base of his length. Javier groaned, moving a hand to your hair as he kept his eyes focused on you.

You pulled away, licking your lips as your hand continued to stroke him. Still, you were staring up at him with the same look you had given him the moment you walked through the doors of the bar earlier that night.

“Fuck, bonita,” Javier groaned.

You smiled in accomplishment and wrapped your lips around his length, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as your hand continued to stroke what your mouth couldn’t cover. Javier’s hand tightened its grip around your hair at the sensation and when you pulled your hand from him to try and push yourself further down onto his length, he moaned, hearing you gag quietly as the tip of his length hit the back of your throat.

Javier thought it was too much, but you continued, bobbing your head repeatedly and quickening your pace. He had to pull away from you, to prevent himself from coming too fast before he could even feel your walls wrap around his member.

“You keep that up and this is gonna be over,” he teased, gently taking your hand and pulling you to your feet.

“I’d like to do that again,” you smiled, running your tongue across your lower lip.

“Oh, this good girl thing is just an act, isn’t it?” he grinned, moving his hands to your hips.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “What can I say? I guess you bring out the bad in me, Javi.”

Javier groaned and gently laid you back on the bed, crawling above you as he settled himself between your legs. You stared up at him, eyes still so innocent and pure and he felt like he could come right then and there with the way you were looking at him.

“Damn, bonita,” he said, taking the condom you handed him. “You’re driving me crazy the way you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Javier slid the condom onto his length and grasped it in his hand, slowly running his tip along your sex. He kept his eyes focused on you, watching as your lips parted for a moan to escape.

“You look at me like I’m the only thing that matters,” he whispered, slowly sliding into you and groaning as he felt your tight walls immediately wrap around his member.

You gasped, keeping your legs parted for him. Javier lowered himself to press his lips along your jawline, wanting to be close to hear your moans against his ear. His hips slowly moved in and out of you, allowing your tight sex to loosen up to his length. He had to wonder if you had done this before or how often you had done this with how tight you were and it was driving him crazy; he didn’t know how he was going to let you go after tonight.

You couldn’t even think, couldn’t even process what his words meant because all you could focus on was the way he felt as he thrusted in and out of you, the weight of his body against yours, providing you a surprising sense of safety and security. Javier’s lips continued to move along your skin as he pulled his hips back and pushed back into you repeatedly, creating a rhythm that elicited quiet whimpers and moans from you.

Javier was always so rough with the women he had been with, so rough and quick, but this time, for some reason, he wanted to take his time. He wanted to revel in the way you felt wrapped around him, the sounds of your moans and the way you said his name, and certainly the way your arms moved to wrap around his shoulders, holding onto him.

“Javi,” you whimpered, feeling him deliver a sharp thrust. He remained still within your depths and you moaned, feeling so full of him that you wanted more. You wrapped your legs around his hips and tightened your hold around his shoulders as you lifted your hips to move against him, moaning loudly as it bounced off the walls.

Javier groaned, pulling back to prop himself up onto his hands as he watched your hips move against him, rolling them up and down. He pushed into you, moving a hand to your hip to stop your movements. Javier pulled out to his tip and slammed back into you; he repeated this for a few thrusts before his pace quickened. The sound of his skin slapping against you mixed in with the sounds of your moans. He gripped your hip, his fingertips digging into your skin as he leaned down to bite at the side of your neck, sucking on it afterwards.

“Fuck, bonita,” Javier groaned.

“Oh god, Javi,” you moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”

Javier grinned, slamming his hips into yours repeatedly. “Tell me how it feels, bonita.”

“Javi,” you muttered, feeling your climax slowly edge its way closer. “Feels so good… Oh my god…”

“I’m gonna want to do this again,” Javier whispered, his hips not faltering as he felt your walls begin to tighten even further around him. “Next time, I’m gonna fuck you from behind and watch your ass bounce against me.”

You would be lying if you said that you had experienced this before, that the men you had been with had given you this much pleasure, but Javier was different. This was different, in all the best ways possible.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“And then,” Javier groaned, slamming into you. “I’m gonna eat this pussy and make you come until the only thing you can think about is me, bonita.”

That was it. Your walls tightened around his length as your body began to shake once you reached your climax. You held onto him and heard Javier’s grunts and groans against you as his hips began to thrust into you erratically. You knew he was close too, so you ran your nails up and down his broad back as you whispered into his ear.

“Come for me, Javi.”

Javier delivered one last thrust and released himself into the condom, groaning against you. He hadn’t ever reached his climax as hard as this and he had to wonder if it was because of you. He was telling the truth that he wanted to do this again and again and again…

But he also wanted to get to know more about you, spend more time with you, show more of himself to you, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Colombia wasn’t home to you and you would be going home in less than a week. This was all it could ever be.

When he pulled out, you whimpered and watched as he removed the condom, tying it shut and tossing it into the nearby trash. He lied back down with you and pulled you into his arms as you tried to catch your breath.

You looked up at him, biting your lower lip as you started to wonder how this could even work when you went back home. Maybe this was why you never did one night stands because while you wanted more sex with Javier, you also wanted to get to know more about him, more about his family, his home, but how could that be possible if you were expected to go home and he was supposed to stay here for work?

“We are doing that again,” Javier said, smiling. “I’m a man of my word, so–”

“So, you’ll eat me out and then fuck me from behind?”

Javier narrowed his eyes, leaning down to peck your lips. “I think I want to keep you, bonita.”

“That’s a great idea,” you smiled. “Can we make that happen?”

You kept staring up at him, which gave Javier that same feeling from earlier this night. He wanted more of you, obviously in more ways than one, but you made him feel good about himself, made him feel like he wasn’t just some disappointment, made him feel human. In fact, you gave him hope that this could be something more. He never did understand the concept of love at first sight, but what he was feeling was something he hadn’t ever felt before.

Maybe it was love. Maybe it was something else, but Javier wanted you.

Needed you.

“I think we can,” he finally replied.

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