#matthew: the road to hell

[faithinlycaon]

"That is a fair point..less flailing... but a still flailing none the less." Faye giggled it was a little more cackle than usual. "You can't miss him, he's all shiny and everything."

"Yes she is indeed, we thought it'd be cute. Your little spell has made it a little less adorable and more bitchy, at least from my side but I'm going to enjoy it while I can. Hunt down and bother will. Try to steal Max's shoes, make Gwen a little uncomfy it'll be great!" She started to head down the road, a bit more hip sway than what was required she was apparently enjoying herself. "Have fun Matthew, it's your party after all."

"Leaving them with legs with mute seems more fun. What use would they be if they cannot speak?" Matthew chuckled before the look in his eyes brightened.

"A delectable Prince, you say? Oh, then I just might." The fallen deity flexed their long fingers atop their sceptre. Any Prince was worth bullying just as much as any Princesses that came Matthew's way. Happy endings were for the deluded, of that much Matthew was certain, and everyone needed to wake up to that reality at some point.

"Steal away, my dear. I wouldn't begrudge you the fun of destroying someone's happy ending," he chuckled. "Isn't that cousin of yours dressed as your fairy tale counterpart?" Matthew distinctly remembered seeing Gwen in a Good Witch get-up when she entered earlier.

[sluttapes]

⌞ 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ⌝

christoper owen & matthew bernard sturniolo

𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴ㆍ𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘺!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵ㆍ𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬ㆍ𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴ㆍ𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰ㆍ 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵'

you’d forgotten how slippery the woods could get when it rained. maybe it was the fog curling low over the ground, or the way your brain felt fuzzy from the cold, but either way, you didn’t see the muddy step until it was too late. your foot slid right out from under you, your palms slapped wet wood, and before you could catch yourself, you were in a shallow puddle, jeans soaked through, cold seeping all the way into your bones.

when you finally got the cabin door open, you were shivering. the heat hit you like a wall, and the sound of soft rain on the roof filled the space. warm yellow light glowed from the bedroom down the hall, where matt and chris had already retreated for the night. you peeled off your wet clothes with shaking hands and tossed on the first dry hoodie and shorts you could find.

chris was on his phone, screen lighting up his face as he laid under the covers, scrolling. matt was already half-asleep, back turned to the room, sheets pulled low over his hips. you hesitated, staring at the empty bed on the other side of the room—yours—but something about that cold space didn’t feel right. it never did when you were with them.

you walked quietly to chris’s bed and slipped under his blanket without saying much. he glanced at you, barely lifting his head.

“cold as hell,” you mumbled.

“yeah, no shit,” he said, not unkindly. but the way his body stiffened next to yours made you pause.

“can we cuddle?”

he sighed, like the question annoyed him more than it should’ve. “you’re, like, way too warm.”

you didn’t argue. it wasn’t weird—you’d all been like this since you were kids. curled up on couches, sharing blankets on road trips, limbs tangled without a second thought. but tonight, chris wasn’t in the mood. you stayed for a few more minutes, staring at the screen with him as a few tiktoks played, but his energy was off. distant. maybe even irritated.

“can i play with your hair?” you asked, like always. you didn't lnow why, but it helped you relax, helped you drift off to sleep.

he shook his head. “nah. not tonight.”

the words landed heavy, heavier than you expected. you sighed, sifting next to him. you laid there awkwardly, unsure of what to do, when matt’s voice came, half-mumbled, barely coherent.

“you can climb over here,” he said, still facing the wall. “’s warm. play with my hair or whatever.”

it made you smile. you crossed the room and slid into his bed, body curling against his back, the cotton of your shirt sticking slightly to your damp skin. his back was warm—hot, actually—and your brow furrowed as you pressed your cheek to his shoulder.

“you’re warm as fuck,” you whispered. “you got a fever or some shit?”

“headache,” he muttered, voice low, sleep-drunk.

you hummed in sympathy, your fingers already threading gently through his hair. you always loved doing this—touching his hair, watching him melt like butter. the groan he let out was deep, not anything 'sexual', just pure relief, relaxing into your touch. he shifted closer to you, pressing back against you.

“mmmh,” he hummed. “i'ma pay for your nails next time if that means you'll give me head scratches more often.”

you giggled, light and quiet. he moaned again, soft and content, and that’s when chris spoke.

“dude, you creaming your pants or some shit? what’s all that moaning for?”

matt didn’t even turn. “kid, what are you talkin’ about? you pissed she’s in bed with me now or something? can you stop bitchin’ and go to sleep because i’m tryna sleep, actually.”

chris scoffed, rolling over and muttering something under his breath, but didn’t argue again. matt was awake now. you could tell by the way he shifted slightly, more alert under your fingertips.

“we’re driving back tomorrow, right?” you murmured, still petting his hair.

“yeah. early, if the rain’s not bad,” he replied, voice low.

you stayed like that for a while, the conversation drifting into little things—how much you loved these trips, how much they felt like home, how it reminded you of being kids again. but then the air changed. not drastically, not all at once. it was subtle. in the pause between words, in the way matt’s breathing slowed but didn’t return to sleep.

maybe it was the few drinks you’d had earlier. maybe it was the storm, or the heat of him against you, or the way chris had looked when you’d crawled into matt’s bed instead. but for some reason, the way chris seemed almost jealous of the fact you were invited over into matt's bed, and the fact you actually went to cuddle up with him instead of staying with chris, even after he rejected something he'd usually happily accept, made matt proud. he found it funny, but he also liked the idea of chris being all moody about the fact that you didn't stay with him tonight.

it was a weird feeling, but matt found some sort of push to claim something he knew chris would be jealous of, something he would definitely not appreciate. there was no reason to be jealous for chris. you three were best friends, no one was prioritized over the other one, but the slightest interaction that matt got more of than chris, made chris roll his eyes, scoff, and show how he was clearly feeling some sort of jealousy.

“do you wanna have sex?” matt asked suddenly, not turning to look at you.

you blinked. your heart stopped for half a second, huffing out a small laugh, not sure if he was joking or not. “what, with you?”

he shrugged, turning to face you. “it'll help you warm up better.”

you didn’t say anything at first. not because you were offended, but because you didn’t expect him to say it. and yet, you weren’t surprised either. you guy are close, all three of you. you talked about things to matt and chris that you talked to no one else about, and it was the same for them. whether it was about some awkward sex story when you guys were drunk, or just in general about anything to do with it. you guys had no filter, because you didn't need one. nothing was weird, nothing was tmi, simply because you guys didn't think about each other in that on sort of way, or at least you thought so...

“we don’t have to if you don’t wan—”

you cut him off with a kiss. his lips were soft, slightly chapped, warm against your cold skin. the kiss deepened quickly, almost desperately. his hand found your waist under the covers, fingers pressing into the curve of your hip, and you slid your hand along his jaw, holding him there like you were afraid he’d vanish. there was heat between you now—not just body heat, but tension, years of closeness building into something neither of you had ever even thought about. he pulled back just slightly, eyes dark in the low light.

“i shouldn’t want this because of him, and like, wanting to make him jelous,” he said, voice barely audible. “but i do. and not just because of that. you’re… i don’t know. you’ve always been mine a little bit.”

your chest tightened, heart pounding. “so take it,” you whispered.

he kissed you again, slower this time. claiming. like he wanted to etch the moment into both of you. your fingers slipped under his shirt, dragging over the warm skin of his stomach, and he hissed quietly at the contact. everything felt electric—his hands on your waist, your breath mixing with his, the rain tapping against the roof as if it were trying to drown out the quiet sounds you made for only him.

you weren’t just cuddling anymore, and you both knew it.

the room felt hotter than before, even with the rain tapping cool against the windows. matt’s lips didn’t stay on yours long. he was exploring now—pressing kisses along your jaw, down your neck, slow and deliberate. like he had all night, like he wanted to memorize the taste of your skin. you were already arching into him, your body pulsing with need you didn’t know had been buried this deep.

his hands were under your hoodie, thumbs brushing against bare skin, pushing fabric higher until your stomach was exposed to the chill of the air. but his mouth followed, warm and wet, trailing heat with every kiss.

“matt,” you whispered, breathless, fingers curling against his scalp.

he hummed softly against your ribs, and you felt the smile on his lips before he said anything.

“pretty sure chris is wide awake and pretending not to hear any of that.”

the comment made you laugh under your breath, a quiet, breathy thing that slipped from your chest without control. you looked toward the other side of the room where the blanket over chris was pulled up to his shoulder, completely still.

your fingers threaded through matt’s hair, tugging gently. “he’ll survive.”

matt looked up at you with a lazy grin, one corner of his mouth tugged up like this was all some game—one he was enjoying a little too much. his hands tugged at your waistband, slow and teasing, like he was waiting for you to stop him. you didn’t. he peeled your pants down with your underwear, the cold air shocking for a second, but he was there—warm, steady, grounding you with his tongue on your clit, his hands, the quiet, slow drag of his fingertips down your thighs.

the air between you crackled with tension, each breath shuddering as matt’s tongue flicked against your clit in a slow, teasing circle. you bit your lip to stifle a whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. he hummed softly against you, the vibration rippling through your body like a current.

“taste so fucking sweet,” he murmured, voice rough, his breath hot against your thigh.

he dragged his tongue up your slit, deliberate and languid, as if he had all night to savor you. his hands gripped your hips, anchoring you in place when you squirmed.

“shhh, i got you, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “let me take care of you.”

the shushing was gentle, almost tender, but it coiled something tight in your stomach. you arched into him, and he chuckled—low, smug—before sealing his mouth over you again. his tongue worked you with agonizing patience, lapping at your sensitivity until your legs trembled.

“matt—fuck—” you breathed, hips jerking involuntarily.

he pulled back just enough to glance up, eyes glinting in the dim light.

“that’s it, baby. let me hear you.” his thumb replaced his tongue, circling your clit in firm, slow strokes as he kissed his way up your stomach.

“you taste so good, sweetheart” he murmured against your ribs, teeth grazing skin. “always wondered… god.”

your breath hitched as he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, his palm grinding against you in rhythm. his lips found your ear, rough with stubble, his voice a gravelly whisper.

“you gonna cum for me? right here, with him probably listening?” his fingers sped up, relentless, and you choked back a moan, nails digging into his shoulders. “c’mon, sweetheart. let go. wanna feel that pretty pussy squeeze my fingers.”

pleasure crashed over you in waves, your back bowing off the bed as you muffled a cry into his shoulder. he kissed you through it, swallowing your whimpers, fingers slowing to a gentle pulse until you sagged against the sheets.

“thereee ya go,” he cooed, brushing damp hair from your face. his thumb traced your swollen lower lip, eyes dark with satisfaction.

you weren’t sure when exactly you stopped thinking and just started feeling. somewhere between the slow trail of matt’s mouth and the way his hands anchored your hips like he needed you still, something shifted in you—something full and warm and dizzying. it wasn’t just heat. it wasn’t just want.

it was him.

matt was hovering above you with that flushed, lazy look in his eyes, your heart was thudding loud in your ears. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on yours like he couldn’t look away.

“you okay?” he asked, voice low and hoarse.

you nodded, cheeks warm, pulse still skittering. “yeah. are you?”

he gave a breath of a laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “just making sure you’re not about to slap me.”

“for what?” you smiled, fingers brushing his jaw.

“i dunno. taking things somewhere we haven’t gone before.” his voice dropped, and he tilted his head, eyes flickering toward the other bed. “especially with chris literally right there.”

you followed his gaze. chris still hadn’t moved. still didn’t say a word.

you whispered, “i don’t think he’s asleep.”

“oh, he’s definitely not asleep,” matt said, lips brushing the shell of your ear with a quiet chuckle.

you both fell into silence for a second. the weight of everything you’d just crossed settled in—not in a bad way, just real. and complicated. but matt didn’t move away. he just pulled you into his chest, one arm snug around your waist, legs tangled with yours under the blanket. your head found the spot right below his collarbone, heartbeat steady and calm beneath your ear.

“i liked that,” he murmured after a moment. “not just the sex stuff. like… you being here. close.”

you swallowed, your fingers tracing soft circles on his chest. “me too.”

you weren’t even sure if you were tired anymore, but the warmth of him, the steady sound of rain, and the way he kept you tucked into his side like you belonged there made you start to drift. but just before you could fall asleep, you heard a quiet, sarcastic mutter from across the room.

“next time, just take the fucking spare room.”

your eyes flew open. matt stifled a laugh against your hair.

“you were definitely awake,” matt said, grinning into your hair.

“hard not to be with all the groaning,” chris grumbled.

matt raised a brow. “you jealous?”

“whatever. you two can hump each other to death for all i care.”

there was a long pause. then you and matt both broke into quiet laughter. but underneath it, you felt the shift in the air. chris’s silence said enough. you'd definitely hear about this tomorrow. no matter how good it felt, no matter how comfortable and understood it felt with the fact that it was matt having you like this, you felt guilty now. ashamed almost. and chris's jealousy only made it worse.

oh well, driving home tomorrow morning when the three of you had sobered up would be fun.

tape extension

dividers by @strangergraphics

there could be a part two idk i feel like this has a lot of playroom. lmk if yall would fw that

🎥 @tits4matt @loser41ifee @sweetshuga @nickysturnss @courta13 @sophsturns @starsforu @applecidersturniolo

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 35

summary: It’s your wedding night, and you’re finally alone with your husband in the privacy of your hotel suite. Not that you care much about privacy when things get hot and heavy on the balcony.

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), two extremely horny newlyweds, Husband Javier Peña, dirty talk, oral sex (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), rough sex, loud balcony sex, exhibitionism, romantic bathtub sex, BREEDING KINK (so much), praise kink, marriage kink, love kink, ring kink, drinking, being buzzed, love confessions, body worship, body insecurity (and Javier making you feel better), cuteness aggression, relationship insecurity, romantic comedy, domestic bliss, Javier with kids, a new POV)

word count: 20k+

a/n: Hey! I hope you remember me. Lmao Let me just say the last six months have been literal hell, and my life is still in shambles. On a positive note, I’m no longer working 60-80 hours a week, and I now have time to write. A couple of notes about this chapter. It takes place in January of 1999. With inflation, $150 in 1999 would be $300 today. A big thanks to @devineconjuring for betaing! Also, thank you to @juletheghoul for checking out my Spanish. Thank you for reading!

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

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The San Agustín de Laredo Historic District, located downtown along the banks of the Rio Grande River, was where the original city of Laredo was established in 1755. The area had many buildings dating back to the 1800s, like the district’s namesake, San Agustín Cathedral—a place you were familiar with as it happened to be the church Chucho and many members of your new family attended and was where he married your mother-in-law some forty-plus years ago.

La Posada was the fanciest hotel in town since it offered room service and had valet parking. It was just down and across the old, narrow brick road from your family’s church. The tall, white bell tower could even be seen looming high in the sky from the hotel’s entrance.

The inn, opened in 1961, had its own rich history as it occupied the original high school building that was constructed back in 1916 and was surrounded by some 19th-century structures—one was a former convent, and another was the Capitol building for the short-lived Republic of the Rio Grande. Most of the buildings in the area showed Spanish and Mexican influences, including the hotel, with its rounded arches at entryways and windows, thick stucco coating the outer walls, and many balconies, courtyards, columns, and elaborately carved doors.

Javi could’ve rented you a regular room at La Posada or even something at the Motel 6 off the highway, and you would’ve been happy as a clam. Your dear, sweet, wonderful husband, however, didn’t think either of those options was good enough for you and somehow managed to book the ever-elusive Presidential Suite; this was the room that a person with any kind of notoriety stayed in when they were passing through the Rio Grande Valley—think B-list celebrities, like Matthew McConaughey, or campaigning politicians.

Most of the hotel was only two stories high, but one stretch had a third level dedicated to a few luxury suites, including where you were staying. Through the double doors of your one-bedroom accommodations was a small entryway that led to the living room featuring a built-in bar—a shelf with a variety of liquors, a countertop with different kinds of glasses, and a cocktail shaker—a sitting area with an entertainment system, and French doors that opened to a private balcony that had views of Mexico across the river. There was a kitchenette, a four-person dining table, and a half bath. Through another set of double doors, the bedroom had a massive two-postered king-size bed, an en suite containing an oversized whirlpool tub, and a shower that could easily fit two people. Every room had beamed ceilings, the wall connected to another suite was made of brick, the color scheme of everything stuck to earthy tones that complemented the exposed beams and wooden furniture, and the art on the walls depicted beautiful river scenery.

No matter how many times you asked, your husband refused to reveal how much two nights in such splendor put him back.

And here you were in the bedroom, you and Javi stripped of your formal attire on the bed that he had the forethought to put a towel down on to keep things from getting too messy. You could not stop yourself from loudly moaning at how good it was; your husband had you in heaven with how he was filling you up, and you were finally at the point of feeling stuffed.

He was beside you, so close your bodies touched. “Yeah?” Javi purred. "You like that? You want more?"

You had to swallow before you could speak, shaking your head as you replied, “God, it’s so good, but I don’t want to get sick.”

“Okay, baby.” He kissed your cheek. “Relax while I clean up.”

Your husband carefully took the paper plate that you had practically licked clean of every crumb of wedding cake and the plastic fork you’d been using. Sitting crisscross on the mattress, you were dressed the same as Javier in nothing but a big, white, fluffy, hotel-provided bathrobe. On the towel in front of you were two more sets of dirtied plates and utensils from the leftovers the two of you ate, which Javi picked up as he got off the bed, heading out of the room to the small kitchen to dispose of them.

Earlier, when your husband revealed the surprise that you’d be staying in this suite for two nights, he told you all of the places in the room he planned to fuck you. From those promises, you imagined that he would toss you onto the bed upon arriving here and have his way with you. What actually happened was you got to the door, and Javi made you laugh when he lifted you over his shoulder like a caveman and carried you across the rented room’s threshold. He did throw you onto the big bed, where the two of you made out for some minutes. It just didn’t go any further because your sweetheart of a husband was aware you were hungry, and that made his biggest priority getting you comfortable and feeding you. So, the first thing he did was strip you out of your dress, the man unable to keep himself from taking a couple of minutes to admire the lacy thong you’d been wearing before he got you naked and had you join him in the shower. Aside from some groping and a little kissing, there was hardly any fooling around since he was so focused on taking care of you, which was sweet.

After that, Javi heated up some of the food from your wedding that the Murphys were kind enough to drop off prior to your arrival since they were staying at the same hotel, and the two of you had a little feast on the bed. Now you were nice and full, but not overly so that you felt sick, just enough that you were relaxed and a little sleepy—a food coma, if you will.

Many pillows were on the bed, and you moved some behind you to prop yourself up and lie back on. You grabbed your almost-empty complimentary bottle of water from the mattress beside you, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink.

“Cielito?” your husband called from the other room. “Do you want anything else to drink?”

The options included the bottle of champagne the hotel gifted you to celebrate your marriage, something from the living room bar, tap water, or the two of you could trek to the floor below to raid the vending machine in nothing but your robes and the slippers that were with them when you got there.

His question made you smile as you re-capped your water, stretching your arm to set the bottle on the bedside table. “No, babe,” you answered loud enough for him to hear. “I’m good—get back in here!”

He returned seconds later, his knees sinking into the mattress as he crawled onto it, smiling. Javi made his way over to you, and when he was at your left side, he wormed his arm behind your back, the other over your front to hold you close, his head nestled on your robe-covered chest. After getting comfortable, he sighed happily, closing his eyes with a little smile on his lips.

“Javi?”

“Yes, mi esposa (my wife)?”

The title made your spine tingle.

“God, I’ll never tire of you calling me that.”

“Good, ‘cause I’ll never tire of calling you it, my beautiful wife.” He quickly kissed over your heart, then rested his head on you again. “What were you gonna ask?”

“Oh, right. I know we should be having the dirtiest, nastiest sex known to man right now—” Javi snorted. “—but, since we just ate, are you cool with us hanging out for a little bit while the food digests?”

“Are you okay with cuddling, or am I hurting your stomach?” He lifted his arm off your belly.

“Cuddling sounds wonderful.” You lowered his arm back to where it was, resting your palm on his wrist.

“Okay.” He nuzzled you with his face. “Would you, uh, want to play with my hair…?”

“You can bet your cute little ass I do.” That made him chuckle. Your fingers pressed into his hair, playing with the soft strands and lightly scratching at his scalp, which earned you a noise from the back of his throat that came close to a purr.

“How was your day?” you asked.

“Fucking amazing. How about yours?”

“Fucking amazing, though talk about our bad sex luck—which reminds me, thank god your dad does his laundry on Saturdays. When we return the Mustang, I need you to distract him while I disinfect his laundry room.”

Javi groaned at the reminder of hearing his cousin and your best friend Robyn fucking in said room. “I don't wanna think about that.”

“And you think I do? I just don’t want our father coming across a condom wrapper, or god forbid a used condom, when he goes to do his chores. You know as well as I do that he’d tell his sisters, and it’d be the chisme (gossip) everyone is talking about Sunday at tía María’s.”

Your hand was still on his head, curling strands of his hair absentmindedly around your pointer finger.

“Los chismosos (The gossipers),” he grumbled. “Hold on, why do we care if he finds evidence someone fucked in there?”

“Um, because they’ll all assume it was us, and I do not feel like announcing to our entire family that I exclusively get rawed and creampied.”

“Why would you announce that…?”

“Do you want everyone to think we’re horny newlyweds who fucked in a laundry room because they couldn’t keep it in their pants until they got home?”

“We are horny newlyweds who couldn’t keep it in their pants until they got home. We almost did fuck in that laundry room.”

“Sure, except if we had, we wouldn’t have left behind any evidence. We’re not sloppy, thank you very much. I mean, I know a lot about Robyn’s sex life—like a lot—but I don’t know how discreet she is. So, we’ll need to make sure nothing was left behind.”

“I say, if they’re gonna be rude and leave shit behind, we just throw them under the bus…”

Your hand stopped moving in his hair.

“You mean the woman who convinced me to let you fuck my ass?” you asked. “The woman who’s held down the fort while you and I fooled around on my lunch countless times? The woman who covered while I got you off in an on-call room at the hospital? The woman who has had our backs so many times I’ve lost count? That’s the woman you wish to throw under a bus?”

There was a pause, and you heard him gulp.

“I’ll tell Pop that I think one of the Mustang’s tires is low on air,” he replied, “so he has to go with me outside while you take care of the crime scene.”

His response had you smiling. “Thank you,” you said, leaning forward to kiss his head.

You resumed playing with his hair.

“No need to thank me. You, uh, had some good points.”

“I know I did.”

“I haven’t had a chance to see your nails.” His hand moved to grab yours that’d been on his wrist, bringing it up to his face to look at your white-tipped fingernails. “Look at those, they’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Thank you. It’s a French manicure, and I thought they’d look really good with my dresses.”

“They’re perfect.” He kissed the back of your hand and continued holding it when his arm relaxed over your stomach again.

For a minute, it was quiet as you both lay there, your fingers slipping through the soft brown waves on his head in comfortable silence.

“Did I tell you what Olivia said before they left?” Javi asked.

“Um, I don’t think so?”

“She confused the fuck out of me—she thinks I play baseball.”

“What?”

“She gave me a pep talk…?” he said it like a question.

“A pep talk? About what?”

“Something about how she knows I secretly play baseball and that I shouldn’t be embarrassed I’m bad at it because I’ll get better the more I practice. To be honest, it was adorable, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t play.”

“That is extremely random. Why would she think you play baseball?”

“I have no fucking clue. I’ve been thinking back on my conversations with her, and I don’t think we’ve ever talked about baseball.”

“Maybe she misremembered something or misunderstood something her parents said? No clue why Steve and Connie would be talking about you and baseball, though.”

“I don’t know, either. They’re both aware I’m a swimmer and played some soccer.”

“True. Who knows where Olivia got the idea.” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Yeah…”

“It’s gonna bother the fuck out of you until you figure it out, isn’t it?”

“A little.”

“We’ll ask Steve and Connie tomorrow at dinner, Detective Peña.” The Murphys were flying home the following evening, and the plan was to have an early dinner at the hotel restaurant before they left.

“Okay, Mrs. Detective Peña.”

“Oh my god!” you gasped. “I am Mrs. Detective Peña now!” you replied excitedly.

“Yes, you are.” The smile was evident in his voice. “You’re my wife.”

“Yes, I am, and you are my husband.”

“The best fucking thing anyone has called me.”

His response had you smiling.

It sometimes caught you off guard how much Javier loved you since the love you felt for him ran so deep that it consumed every fiber of your being. It didn’t seem possible that anyone could love you the same, not when your heart was more his than yours, yet Javi did. His devotion knew no bounds, and he saw you for everything you were and loved you despite it all—to him, you were perfection. No one would ever love you more, and you would never love anyone else more because he was yours, and you were his; fate, destiny, the writing in the stars led you to each other, and now your lives were so intertwined that his heart was your heart, his hands were your hands, his smile was your smile, he belonged to you as you belonged to him.

Enough time had passed for the food in your stomach to settle, and now you could acknowledge the want burning low in your belly, making your pussy drip with arousal. Something about how happy Javi was that he vowed to spend the rest of his existence with you was such a big turn-on that it was time for things to heat up so you could give him the sloppiest blow job to show your appreciation—except, you wanted it to be spicier than usual.

“My wonderful, perfect husband?”

“Yes, my wonderful, perfect wife?”

“You know what we should do right now?”

“Depends—has your food digested?”

“Yep.”

Javi jostled you as he moved his arm from under your back, rising up on it in order to meet your eyes, his plush lips smirking under his perfectly trimmed mustache. “In that case, have the dirtiest, nastiest sex known to man?” And it became evident you’d been together a while when he wiggled his eyebrows at you as you’d done to him many times before.

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, playfully pushing his shoulder.

“That isn’t a no,” he pointed out.

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head. “But I was thinking we could get some fresh air out on the balcony.” It was your turn to wag your brows at him. Javi chuckled, giving you a big smile.

“Champagne?” he asked. “Or should I get out the salt and limes for tequila?”

“The room came with salt and limes…?”

“No—I brought the salt, limes, and our bottle of tequila from the apartment.”

He also brought you both overnight bags and somehow smuggled your toiletries out of his dad’s house–you’d taken them to Chucho’s the prior night when you stayed over, and you were pretty sure it was Connie who did the smuggling. She probably had Steve deliver your little bag with the food before he returned to their room, which Javi assured you was on the other side of the hotel and out of hearing range to your suite.

Your eyes rounded. “Because you knew I’d need liquid courage to fuck around outside?”

He gave you a look like the answer was obvious. “Yeah?”

“That is so unbelievably romantic. Horny, but romantic.” Grabbing a handful of his robe, you pulled him forward as you leaned toward him, slotting your lips with his, kissing him; he smelled like the floral rose petal-scented shampoo he used in the shower, and he tasted sweet from the bites of wedding cake you shared with him.

When you broke apart, you were both smiling.

“You get the goods,” you told him, “and I’ll meet you outside—I gotta pee really quick.”

“Okay,” he replied and pecked you on the nose.

The bathroom was on the other side of the room, which meant you had to go around the bed after you got off of it, Javi following you and smacking your ass. There wasn’t much of a smack with the thick robe in the way, but it still made you giggle. He headed for the bedroom door, and as you continued your journey to the en suite, something shiny on his bedside table caught your attention and made you frown.

“Babe?”

He hadn’t left the room yet, standing at the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Does the gun have to hang out on your table, or can we put it in a drawer or something?” It was Chucho’s small revolver that he kept in the Mustang. Your husband didn’t want to risk it being stolen, so he brought it up to the room.

“Put it in the drawer.”

“Is it safe to touch…?” Unlike Javi, you did not have a lot of experience with firearms aside from treating many gunshot wounds when you worked in a big city emergency room.

“Would I ask you to touch it if it wasn’t safe?”

“No…”

“Exactly. The safety’s on.”

“That’s good,” you replied and moved closer. “I was worried about you shooting your cute little butt off when you shoved it in the back of your pants.” It was bewildering when he got out of the car and casually tucked the gun into the waistband of his slacks.

A huff of air left his nose. “Fifteen years with the DEA, and I never shot myself in the ass.”

Opening the drawer, the only thing in it was a bible. You carefully picked up the revolver by its grip with two fingers like an old, smelly sock and set it atop the book. “Yeah,” you replied, “‘cause you had the sexy tac-vest-thingy with the holster on the front.”

“I didn’t always wear a tac-vest...”

“What?” you replied, shutting the drawer and spinning around to face him. His fluffy, white robe reached down to mid-thigh on him, and it was tied closed, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “So, you’d wear a holster on your hip?” you asked.

You thought back to the pictures you’d seen of your husband in Colombia, trying to remember if he was wearing a holster in any of them.

His expression turned guilty. “No…”

The realization hit you. “A butt gun, Javier? You’d just walk around with a gun at your ass? That is not safe.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “The safety was on?”

“Okay? But even with the safety on, it’s still dangerous. I had so many people come through my ER because they didn’t properly holster their weapons. One dude had it in the front of his waistband, and when he went to pull it out, it accidentally discharged into his thigh and hit his femoral artery—dead on arrival.” Javi grimaced. “And don’t get me started on all of the butts I had to look at and treat because they carried like you and weren’t as lucky. Do you think I enjoy looking at strangers' butts?”

“I mean…”

“Us checking out bootylicious babes in San Antonio and Miami does not count, Javier. These butts I had to look at for work were mostly men’s butts, and I can tell you right now, they were not anywhere close to how cute yours is, and dear god, were a lot of them hairy—which, I am so thankful you are not a super hairy guy, and I really do appreciate that you trim your pubes.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He shrugged.

Your eyes lowered to his crotch, picturing what the white garment covered, your mouth watering at the thought of blowing him. Javi cleared his throat to get your attention, your eyes snapping up to his that sparkled in adoration.

“What were we talking about?” you asked.

Javi snorted. “You were getting on my ass about how I carry a gun.”

“Oh, yes—stop being dumb and protect what little ass you have.”

Javier was not going to reveal that there was a gun in the back of his waistband most of the time they went horseback riding.

“I’ll start using a holster,” he said. “But, if we’re going out on Pop’s land, you can’t complain if you see me carrying; I know guns make you uncomfortable, but our safety is more important.”

“Okay.” Her shoulders shrugged.

His eyebrows pulled together—he was expecting more resistance. “Really?”

“Yeah? You told me about all of the dangerous animals out there, and I’ll feel safer if you’re packing—that’s packing as in a gun on your person, not the big dick in your pants.” She winked at him, and Javier huffed in amusement.

“Thank you for the clarification. You’re taking this a lot better than I expected…”

She walked up to him with a grin and threw her arms around his neck, Javier immediately pulling her into him. “It’s marriage, baby,” she said. “We gotta compromise sometimes.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, his head moving forward to rub the tip of her nose with his. He whispered, “Does that mean you’ll let me teach you how to shoot?” Something she’s always refused.

“I don’t know—will it make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then fine, you can teach me.”

He pulled back to look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, because I am an amazing wife who loves my husband dearly.”

He grinned. “You’re a fucking incredible wife whose husband loves you more than anything.”

Javier didn’t give her a chance to respond; his lips crushed into hers, kissing her tenderly, hoping she could feel how happy she made him.

She really was a fucking incredible wife.

When they parted, he gave her another smack on the ass and told her to hurry, his wife giggling as they went their separate ways.

The balcony was covered, with a beamed ceiling overhead and walls on either end to offer some semblance of privacy—the railing was made of wrought iron, the vertical bars twisting like vines into delicate loops and swirls. The only furniture out there was a wooden bistro table situated against the stucco-coated wall with two armless chairs on both sides facing the river. The outdoor light was too bright, and Javier thought it would bring too much attention to them, so he settled on what light filtered out from the living room through the French doors’ windows and the brightness of the moon in the clear sky, illuminating the space in a gentle glow.

He was sitting back in one of the chairs, his legs slightly spread and his arm resting on the table beside him. On the tabletop was the half-drunk bottle of tequila, ziplock bag of cut-up lime wedges, and salt shaker he brought from their apartment, along with a shot glass he grabbed from their rented room’s bar that he washed himself to ensure it was clean.

The night air was cool and a little crisp as he looked out toward the Rio Grande, where, in the distance, he could see the lights of Nuevo Laredo across the way in Mexico. For some unknown reason—maybe being outside or how emotional the day was—Javier was craving a cigarette; even after quitting almost two years ago, he still felt the itch for nicotine here and there, and he’d done pretty well not giving in to the temptation, mainly because there was someone in his life now who distracted him from it. The French doors opened, and immediately, his head was turning in their direction to see his wife coming out.

His beautiful distraction.

He couldn’t keep himself from smiling even if he tried. She looked so comfortable in her robe that matched his, her face lighting up when her eyes landed on him. Her expression took him back to the first time he saw that beaming smile after she handed him the perfect tomato: that was the moment she pulled him in and made him want to know more about the sweet woman who was easily excitable over fresh produce. It was like meeting the sun—bright, warm, happy, and he wanted to bask in her rays and see that smile every day for the rest of his life. Better yet, he wanted to be the reason for that smile, and now he was proud to say he was.

Only a couple of minutes had passed since the last time he saw her, and when she made it over to him, she asked, “Is this seat taken?” She nodded at his knee closest to her, and without waiting for his answer, she sat down on his thigh with her legs between his and her arms around his neck, Javier pulling her closer.

His head was tilted up to look at her, his hand reaching to cradle her face in his palm, staring her in the eyes, smiling.

“I’ve got something else you can sit on,” he said.

“Javier,” she gasped. Her fingers went to his forehead, brushing stray strands of his hair off of it. “I’m gonna need a shot first, maybe two—actually, two for sure, no more than three because, as we know, one shot, two shot, three shot, four-the-love-of-god-stop-crying.”

He chuckled. “Two shots then, pero, quiero que mi esposa me bese primero (but, I want my wife to kiss me first).”

“Cualquier cosa por mi esposo (Anything for my husband).”

Javier couldn’t get enough of her calling him that.

He pulled her down until their lips were a hair's breadth apart. “Dilo otra vez (Say it again),” he rasped.

“Cualquier cosa por mi esposo (Anything for my husband),” she whispered.

“¿Quién soy yo (Who am I)?”

“Mi esposo (My husband).”

“Sí, chingados que soy (Yes, I fucking am),” he growled, pressing his mouth to hers.

The kiss was anything but chaste with how Javier plunged his tongue between her perfect lips to tangle with hers. His heartbeat sped up, the blood pumping through his heated body and traveling to his hardening cock. He moved his hand from her face down to her bare knee, tracing his fingertips up under her robe over the soft skin of her thigh to her ass to squeeze a handful of it.

There wasn’t the same pent-up need like their kiss in the Mustang when he parked them in the field. This one was instead full of promise for their night ahead, making the anticipation swell that they could now take their time and truly enjoy each other since they already dealt with the sexual frustration of being cockblocked multiple times when they were frantic in the car.

Javier savored the feeling of her mouth on his, how their tongues intertwined, and the sweet taste of her lips. He savored her moans and her fingers combing up through the hair from the nape of his neck to the back of his head, where she clutched it tight in her fists; sparks danced along his spine and collected at the base of it, feeding the fire of his arousal that had him half-hard already and wanting to touch more of his wife’s body.

His wife. His beautiful, smart, sexy, amazing wife.

They kissed until they were breathless, both panting when they separated. He nibbled on her chin, his mouth blazing a path along the underside of her jaw until he was at the taut skin of her neck, nipping and kissing down the column of it.

“Oh, god,” she gasped when he sucked at her pulse point, and it made him smile. She lightly tugged his head back by the hair to make him look at her. “Shots.”

“Yeah?” He squeezed her ass.

“Fuck yes.”

“Okay, baby. Ladies first.”

He got his arm out from behind her back, his other hand leaving her ass as his upper body twisted slightly toward the table to grab the bottle of tequila, unscrewing the cap and pouring the liquor into the clear shot glass. Then he opened the bag of limes and picked up the salt shaker, his attention returning to her.

“Where do you want the salt?” Usually, a pinch was licked off the hand between the thumb and forefinger, but he had other ideas for his turn.

She worked open the tie on his robe and pushed it away to reveal his chest, his arm going back behind her again to give her room. “Here,” she said, bending her head to lave at his nipple with her tongue.

“Fuck,” Javier breathed, swallowing hard—it looked like she had the same idea.

While she sprinkled the salt on him, he took a lime wedge out of the bag and gently bit the rind, holding it between his teeth.

Cielito set the shaker down to grab the shot glass and raised it. “Fuck the leather, fuck the lace, here’s to the one who sits on your face!”

The only reason he didn’t laugh was because immediately after she spoke, her face dipped down to suck the salt off his nipple—the shock of pleasure had the muscles in his thighs tensing. She quickly drank the tequila, her face pinching at the burn before she bit the lime out of his mouth.

The glass was back on the table, his wife setting the remnants of the fruit she sucked the juice from next to it.

“Woo!” she exclaimed. “One down, one to go.” She untied her robe and opened it, Javier’s eyes lowering to her bare tits.

His hand moved on its own accord, skating his large palm up her stomach to fondle her breast. He could hear her say something but didn’t make out the words. Her smaller hand came into view, and the snapping of her fingers ended his trance—he looked up at her. “Sorry?” he said.

She smiled. “I asked where you want the salt.”

“I think you know where I want the salt.” His tongue swiped along his bottom lip at the thought of getting his mouth on her tits.

“That’s why the robe is open.” She winked. “My guess was boobies or neck, and I see you’ve chosen the boobies, a tit for tit.”

“Don’t you mean a ‘tit for tat’?”

“No.” She shook her head. “A tit for tit works better in this situation.”

“I am so in love with you.”

“Good, ‘cause I am so in love with you.”

He took her breast into his palm and leaned his head forward, sucking her stiff nipple into his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat, the fingers on one of her hands going into his hair. Javier came off of her with a wet pop, her skin shining with his saliva. He shook some salt onto her, then poured himself a shot as she got a lime wedge.

“I expect a good toast,” she said. “No, ‘salud.’ Give me something raunchy that you and your guy friends would say in college, or you and Steve in Colombia.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Something raunchy Steve would say? The guy who doesn’t like us kissing in front of his kids?”

“Okay, you know what. The moment I said Steve, I realized the raunchiest thing he’d say before you guys drank would be cheers or bottoms up if he was feeling a bit scandalous. There’s gotta be shit you and your friends in college would say, though.”

He picked up the tiny glass that looked even smaller in his hand compared to hers and took a moment to think about what he could say. He’d never been much into toasting, and in college, they usually drank to getting laid or winning a swim meet. There was something he overheard years ago, down in Colombia, that an American tourist said that stuck with him. He just had to remember the wording…

She had the lime ready for him between her teeth, and he lifted the shot. “Here’s to love, here’s to honor; if you can’t come in her, come on her!”

Cielito was doing her best not to laugh. He sucked the salt off of her breast and shot back the tequila, the mineral lessening the initial burn—it was smooth with a sweetness of flavors, picking up vanilla and caramel and a hint of something oaky that was washed away by the sourness of the lime when he bit into it. The glass went back onto the table, along with used rind.

He looked at his wife. “How was that?” he asked, his hand around her back, squeezing her hip.

“Very good. I loved the play on words.”

“How are you feeling?”

She smiled at him. “Fucking amazing. Ready for round two?”

Javier mirrored her expression. “Where do you want the salt?”

This time, she salted his neck, and when she raised the glass, she said, “To us: may all of our ups and downs be in bed!”

Once again, he didn’t have a chance to chuckle before her tongue was licking up the sensitive skin of his neck, his eyes closing at how good it felt. The alcohol was warm in his belly, and he knew it’d take one more shot before he felt any of its effects—his wife would be feeling it any minute now.

For his turn, he chose her neck as well—a ‘tit for tit.’ He lifted the shot glass, keeping his gaze on hers, another lime wedge in her mouth for him. “To my wife, who I love more than anything. You are my forever and have made me the happiest man in the entire fucking world. This isn’t the best day of my life—it’s only one of them because I know there are many more ahead of us. Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).”

Her eyes were misty, and he went through the steps—lick, drink, suck—she leaned his way, and he closed the distance, his tongue licking up the salty trail on her throat before he drank the tequila, then sucked the lime from between her lips. The moment her mouth was empty, she said, “Javier, how dare you say something so sweet when my toasts were gross.”

He spit the rind out onto the table with the others, the glass going bottom-up beside them. His hand went to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. “I meant it all,” he replied, smashing his lips to hers.

His mouth muffled her moan—taking advantage of her parted lips, he licked inside, tasting the lime and sweet hints of tequila, their tongues dancing together as they had countless times before. His free hand gravitated to her tits, roughly palming one, then the other, pinching and rolling each of her pebbled nipples with his fingers.

Javier loved her breathy sounds.

The alcohol’s warmth was spreading through his body, his dick hard and throbbing, barely covered by his robe. His wife gave as good as she got, and she made him groan when she freed his length and wrapped her fingers around him, slowly pumping him up and down.

It was starting to heat up, and there was a list of things he wanted to do, but first, he needed to ensure she was comfortable. He detached his lips from hers, kissing the edge of her mouth, his nose bumping into hers.

“You good?” he asked. “Or another shot?”

“I’m good,” you answered and kissed his plush lips.

The booze had you feeling warm and tamped down your nerves. You were good, you were more than good, your cunt weeping with your need for him.

With the way your husband had been obsessing about eating your pussy all night, you knew that was the first thing he’d want to do, and you were curious to find out what he planned—was he going to sit you in the chair and get on his knees for you? Bend you over the railing and eat you out from the back? Or put you in the position he had you in earlier when you were interrupted, with your back against the wall and him kneeling at your feet? It was honestly a toss-up on what he would choose. Luckily, he didn’t make you wait long.

Javi’s mouth broke away from yours, grabbing your hand that was on him, ordering you, “Up.” You didn’t waste any time, rising to stand in front of him. He grunted as he got up with you, the seat creaking from his movements; he was so close to you that your bodies touched, your palm still in his—he tugged it to make you face him and have you chest to chest.

His eyes were dark with lust when they met yours. “I fucking need you,” he rasped, and suddenly those big mitts of his were framing your face, his lips finding yours. This kiss was fervent, urgent, his need evident as he turned you away from the table and backed you up into the wall beside the chair.

From how passionately he claimed your lips, it seemed his words had a double meaning: he needed you physically at this moment and needed you always in his life. He needed you in every way there was, and wasn’t it the same for you with him? You needed him in every way there was, too. Not only that, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to breathe without him; would your heartbeat cease without him? These were questions you never wanted to learn the answers to.

With your robed back pressed to the stucco wall, it was apparent he wanted to finish what he started earlier, and you were happy to oblige. The glow from the lights in the living room trickling out through the French doors’s windows, along with the moonlight, softly lit the balcony. Thankfully, it wasn’t bright enough for anyone to make out what was going on if they happened to look, and that, added with the tequila, eased any worries you had.

Your robe was untied, Javi shoving it open to reveal your entire naked front, the cool air causing goosebumps to prickle on your warm skin, your nipples to tighten. He kissed you hard one last time and then began his journey down your body. Earlier, when you arrived at the room, your husband was so focused on taking care of you that he didn’t get a chance to take his time to admire your bare figure—something you could tell he wanted to do badly when he was undressing you. Now, he could, the man worshiping you with his lips and hands, kissing and touching every bit of flesh he came into contact with; his palms mapped out your belly and hips, his mouth trailing down your neck to your chest, Javier whispering into your skin as he went, “You’re beautiful… you’re so fucking beautiful… I’m so lucky… fuck, I love you.”

He took your breasts into his hands, his head lowering to suck one of your pebbled buds into his mouth. The pleasure had you gasping and needing to touch him, your palms sliding under his robe to hold onto his waist. His teeth grazed over your stiff peak before he lightly bit it and tugged, making you loudly moan his name; he let it go and moved to the other, enveloping it in the warmth of his mouth, giving it the same attention.

Arousal was coating your inner thighs, the anticipation welling up inside of you—you wanted Javi’s face buried in your pussy as much as he wanted to do it.

Once he gave your tits an ample amount of attention, leaving your nipples and the skin around them glossy with spit, he continued making his way down the front of your body. As he lowered, so did his lips, his kisses all over your stomach imbued with his words of love. “So beautiful… I can’t wait to see you pregnant… you’re gonna look so good with my baby inside you… I love you so fucking much… you make me so happy.”

Even after all this time you’ve been together with Javi, it was still hard to accept that he truly found you beautiful. You knew he meant everything he said, but there were parts of your body you hated, parts that you could still recall word-for-word the negative comments your mother made about them, parts that were far from perfect that you couldn’t believe anyone would ever love. Except, there was someone who did love them—Javi. He genuinely loved every part of you, and he loved them all so reverently and with such conviction—like if he loved them enough, you would, too.

Maybe that would happen; maybe he’d help you break through the years of insecurity, and you would learn to love your imperfections—only time would tell. For now, you were finally to a point where you believed your husband when he told you how beautiful you were, and with his excitement over eventually seeing you pregnant, he’d helped calm your fears about the changes your body would go through.

He kneeled in front of you, grabbing handfuls of your ass while he placed a kiss on your mound. He put your leg over his shoulder to open you up, his fingers spreading apart your lower lips where you knew he could see how wet you were for him.

“Finally,” he whispered, and that was all the warning you got before Javi dove in face first, the flat of his tongue licking up your slit. He had you biting your lip and curling your fingers into the soft strands of his hair, making you keen when he started lapping at your perky little clit.

“Oh, god,” you breathed.

No one ate pussy like Javier—it was like he was starving for it, the rumbling groans he made as he dragged his mouth all over your cunt, wanting to taste every bit of your essence while inhaling your musk. His words vibrated against your cunt, “You taste so fucking good.”

“You’re too good at this,” you panted. The back of your head hit the wall, your eyes closing, moans falling unbidden from your lips as the first signs of your orgasm took shape low in your belly. “I’m so lucky,” you continued. “I can’t fucking believe I get this for the rest of my life.”

For only a second, he paused. “Any time you want it,” he roughly replied. “Fucking love this pussy.” He then sucked on his ring and middle fingers to soak them in saliva. You whined his name when he pushed them into your sopping cunt. There was a slight stretch, Javi putting his mouth back to work, licking and sucking at your sensitive skin. His come—still inside you from earlier in the Mustang—and your arousal had his thick digits moving easily in and out of you, your hips grinding against his face and hand.

“Just like that,” you said. “Oh, god, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Your limbs were beginning to tremble as the pleasure built inside of you, and you cried out as his fingertips rubbed that one spot only he could find—that only seemed to encourage him. He growled into your pussy and doubled down, hitting nirvana every time he pumped his fingers, his mouth focusing on your clit, alternating between sucking it between his lips and flicking his tongue along it side to side, over and over again.

“Oh my fucking god, I love you,” you told him in your blissful haze. “I fucking love you, Javier Peña.”

He hummed something that sounded a lot like, “I love you, too.”

The muscles in your stomach started tightening, the liquor in your system keeping you relaxed as you stood there on the balcony with your tits out, getting your pussy eaten by your new husband. It didn’t take much more to have you cresting, euphoria exploding out from your core as you came, gasping Javi’s name. He loudly groaned, saying, with his face in your cunt, “Good girl.” He replaced his fingers with his tongue, licking up your come and what remained of his inside you while you rode out your high.

Your body went lax, and you slumped; your heart was pounding in your chest, your breaths panting from your lungs. When Javi got his fill, he carefully removed your leg from his shoulder and rose back up onto his feet with a pained sound from his achy knees. He gently kissed your chin, then one side of your mouth, and the other—his lips were wet, and you could smell yourself on him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his hard cock pressing into your belly. This was when his mouth met yours to properly kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue, hugging him in return, the skin on his back warm under your palms.

Between the tequila and orgasm, you felt amazing, and you wanted your husband to feel the same. You ended the kiss, your hands moving to hold his face as you looked at him—his eyes were closed, his mustache and lower half of his face glistening with your juices, a happy little smile on his lips. He looked so unbelievably adorable that you gave in to the impulse and squished his cheeks to the point his shiny lips pursed—it made you grin.

“You are so fucking cute,” you said. “Even when you look like a goldfish, you’re a capital C, Ca-Utie. Ugh, it’s illegal how goddamn adorable you are.”

His eyes opened. “You done?” he asked, sounding a little funny.

“Obsessing about how cute you are? Never. Like, you’re so cute.” A thought caught you off guard that had your eyes widening, the alcohol in your system amplifying the doubts. “You’re too cute,” you whispered. Letting go of his face, you continued, “Why would you want to be with someone like me? Do you like me?” you asked. “As more than a friend? Like, romantically?” You chewed on your lip.

His eyebrows pulled together, and he squinted, clearly confused. “I married you…” he said slowly.

“Yeah, but did you marry me because you love me or because we’re best friends?”

“Am I married to Steve…?”

“No, but he was already married when you met, and polygamy is illegal.”

“Cielito, mi amor, I married you because I love you, and you’re wearing the proof of that on your finger.”

“Friendship rings exist.”

“I sure as fuck didn’t give Steve my mother’s ring because we’re friends. I love you as more than a friend—wait.” His eyes rounded. Quietly, he asked, “Do you love me as just a friend or more than a friend?”

“How can you ask me that? I definitely love you as more than a friend!”

“You asked me first, and it fucked with my head!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to double-check.”

“I needed to double-check, too.”

“Well, I love you so much that I want to have your babies—” You poked him in the chest. “—and I can tell you right now, I don’t want to have Robyn’s babies. I mean, unless it was like a surrogate situation.”

That made him smile, his hands rubbing up and down your covered arms. “I want you to have my babies, too.”

“Then that settles it. We love each other as more than friends, but you’re still my best friend.”

“You’re still my best friend.”

“I won’t tell Steve.”

“I won’t tell Robyn.”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly, the two of you smiling when you broke apart.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We’re a couple of dumbasses.”

An amused breath left him. “It’s a good thing we married each other, then.”

“True. Dumbasses need to stick together. Now,” you gripped the open edges of his robe and turned you both, pressing him back into the wall hard enough that he grunted. “It’s time for me to blow your popsicle, Mr. Peña.” Something you said you wanted to do earlier, but he told you could happen later.

“Mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo, Mrs. Peña (My body is your body, Mrs. Peña). You can do any-fucking-thing you want to me.”

You grinned. “I love when you tell me that.” You leaned in to give him one last lingering kiss.

It was your turn to make him feel good, and you began by kissing down his body, starting at his jaw and moving lower and lower, down his gorgeous neck, his chest, his soft belly, crouching when you made it to the happy trail of hair below his belly button that you followed until you were face to face with his hard cock. It looked even better than you imagined earlier–long, thick, and with that slight curve that felt so fucking good when he was inside you, the tip flushed and shiny with precum. The tile beneath you was unforgiving when you kneeled on it, raising your arms above your head to drag your fingernails down his stomach and through the curls, Javi’s head falling back against the wall with a soft moan.

You spat in the palm of your dominant hand, wrapping your fingers around his shaft—it was hot and hard, Javi twitching in your grip as you started languidly pumping him.

Looking up at your husband through your lashes, you said, “Hey, babe?”

His face tilted down at you.

“Yes, mi amor?”

“What do you call a nurse with dirty knees?”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“A head nurse.”

He went from chuckling to groaning loudly when the flat of your tongue licked up his length from root to tip, swirling it around the sensitive edges at the head. You reveled in how his eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth fell open, loving the salty tang of his precum as you took him into your mouth, continuing to stroke what didn’t fit. His big hands found their home in your hair, moving with your bobbing head as you hollowed your cheeks, taking more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat.

His rough voice came from above, “That’s it, baby—it feels so fucking good.”

That only egged you on. It could be said that you were an expert at blowing your husband. You knew all the things that made him tick and what would really get him going, like when your head rose off of him, gathering a wad of saliva on your tongue that you let drip onto the tip of him.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Spit on it.”

More saliva fell, slicking up the movements of your hand stroking him. You ducked your head, sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

His fingers tightened in your hair. “Fuck,” he groaned, and the way he said that word had your cunt clenching. You tongued at the thin skin of his sack, then gently sucked his other ball, your palm on his dick twisting on every upstroke to slide along the underside of the head.

The muscles in his thighs were tensed as you licked up his shaft to take him back into your mouth. His hips just barely rocked as his dick slid further and further along your palate until you were swallowing around him, his cock sliding into the tight space of your throat. Your nose pressed into the neatly trimmed curls at the base of him, smelling the soap he washed with in the shower.

“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped. Tears collected in the corners of your eyes as saliva dripped down his length, your hands clutching his thighs. You looked up, meeting his dark gaze, seeing the clear love and desire he had for you. “So pretty with my dick down your throat.” His palm caressed your cheek. “That’s my good girl making me feel so fucking good—fuck, I love you.”

This was why you genuinely loved giving Javi head—he was always so vocal, and when he praised you, it made you drip for him. Arousal was hot in your belly. It always turned you on to hear and see the effect you were having on him. You swallowed around his thick cock, causing your throat to squeeze him—his body shivered, and you watched it travel down from his shoulders to his hips.

“Shit,” he moaned.

The glow of the moon and what light reached the balcony from the living room softly illuminated the man above you, and you couldn’t think of a prettier sight than your husband struggling to keep from coming, as he was right then. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at you with pleading eyes. “I don’t wanna come like this.” The words came out scratchy like sandpaper. “Can I fuck you? Please, Cielito?”

He didn’t need to ask twice. Immediately, you came off of him, strings of spit and precum keeping you connected. Staring up at him under your eyelashes, you answered hoarsely, “Yes. Fuck me, Papí.”

That had Javi helping you stand. When you were finally up on your feet, his large hands framed your face as he kissed you hard. He didn’t care that your chin was wet with spit or your cheeks had tear marks; he kissed you as if his life depended on it and slowly started walking you backward toward the railing.

He spoke between kisses, his mouth pressed to yours, muffling his words, “Estoy tan feliz de que seas mi esposa (I’m so happy that you are my wife)… Estoy tan feliz de poder pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m so happy I get to spend the rest of my life with you)... Estoy tan feliz de que algún día seas la madre de mis hijos (I’m so happy that one day you will be the mother of my children)... Este es el día más feliz de mi vida (This is the happiest day of my life).”

Suddenly, your husband spun you, his palm smoothing up the cotton covering your back to signal you to bend toward the railing. The top of it reached the middle of your ribs, so you weren’t bent at the waist—you were leaning onto it, crossing your arms atop the metal, and popping out your ass with a widened stance to give him more room. He gripped your hips and pressed his throbbing cock into your backside. Javi leaned into you. “Feel how hard I am? That’s all you, my beautiful wife.”

Arousal swirled in your belly, the beat of your heart pulsing between your legs.

You turned your head, looking at him behind you. “You should feel how wet I am. It’s all you, my handsome husband,” you replied, wiggling your butt.

He smiled and kissed your shoulder blade. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too.”

It seemed he had enough talking. Javi straightened himself and flipped up the bottom of your robe to bare you, the cool air chilling the wetness at the crux of your thighs. He grunted as he crouched down behind you, squeezing handfuls of your ass. His teeth lightly sank into the meat of your inner thigh for only a moment, and it was like dousing gasoline on the flames in your core.

His hands spread open your asscheeks. “So fucking pretty,” he purred. A second later, a rumbling groan came from his throat as he licked up through your slit from your clit to your entrance before spitting on the skin between your two holes—you felt the warm wad of saliva dripping down to your already-soaked opening.

He smacked your ass, the cheek jiggling as he rose back up on his feet. “You gotta keep quiet, baby,” he whispered. One of his hands held your waist while the other slid his dick through your arousal and his spit to wet himself. He bent at the waist to rasp into your ear, “Don’t wanna draw attention to us—unless you want everyone to know how good your husband fucks you.” He squeezed your hip as he notched the fat head of his cock at your entrance.

Your robe was open, your nipples tingling when a breeze hit your bare skin. The alcohol made you brave as you looked at him over your shoulder again with a smile, your hand going up behind you to touch his smooth cheek.

“I want the entire world to know how good my husband fucks me. Give it to me, Papí.”

A shiver moved down Javier’s spine, his cock jerking in his hand.

This woman was going to be the death of him.

“Scream for me, baby,” he replied, turning his head to kiss the center of her palm.

He started pressing himself into the tight clutch of her pussy, her inner walls hugging his thick length as he fed it inside her inch by inch—her arm fell back onto the railing, and they both moaned, Javier’s eyes closing, his jaw going slack at how good she felt around him, all hot and wet. His hips met the softness of her ass, and he looked down to watch as he slowly pulled out, his dick glistening under what little light there was.

“I love how wet you get for me,” he said. “All nice and soaked for your husband.”

He couldn’t get enough of being called that: her husband.

The quickie in the car scratched the itch; still, Javier had been looking forward all-fucking-day to the moment when he got to take his time and properly fuck his wife. Gripping her waist, he pushed back in, Cielito’s head falling onto the cushion of her arms with a breathy “Yes” that riled him up. She wanted everyone to know how good her husband fucks her, and he was more than happy to oblige.

He started moving in and out of her, keeping most of himself inside for her to feel every ridge and pulsing vein as he reacquainted her cunt with the familiar shape of him.

“It’s so good,” she moaned. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah? I’ve got you, hermosa (beautiful).”

He could make it feel even better—this was a position where she wanted him to be rough, where she wanted him to fuck her until she was cock dumb and her legs shook.

He began increasing the momentum of his hips, slickly sliding halfway out and back into her over and over again until he was railing into her with hard, even strokes that stuttered her loud moans. Javier grunted with each thrust, their skin clapping where it met. With how the balcony had walls on three sides, the sounds echoed off the stucco.

Fuck, he loved being inside her. There was nothing better than feeling the squeeze of her pussy around him. He did love her going down on him a little bit ago, and earlier, when she gave him a hand job after their marriage ceremony, he loved that, too. He also loved the occasions when she’d let him fuck her ass—Javier loved anything she wanted to do with him. But if he had to choose a favorite, it’d be a variation of what they were doing right now.

“You like this?” he mumbled between grunts. “Is it good?”

Several seconds passed with no answer, and there was no hiding his smirk. He slid a palm up the path of her spine to firmly grasp the back of her neck, his other hand going to her front, roughly fondling her breast. He kept up the punishing pace of his hips.

“Am I fucking you good, mi amor?” he tried again a little louder.

Her head lifted, turning her attention to him behind her. Even in such dim conditions, he could see her eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed over. There was a scrunch between her eyebrows, and her mouth was slightly agape—she was absolutely wrecked. She finally answered, repeating, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Pride swelled inside him. “You like how your husband fucks you?”

“Yes! God, yes!” she cried.

Her words had sparks igniting at the base of his spine, making his cock twitch. His fingers plucked at her nipple, rolling the stiff bud. It’d be hard for anyone down below to fully make out what they were doing, but there was no masking the noise—the filthy repetitive slap of skin hitting skin, his rough grunts, and her whining moans that filled the air gave them away.

They were usually much more courteous to their neighbors when it came to their volume. His wife always found it embarrassing when Mrs. Hernandez banged on the wall between their apartments or the people upstairs stomped on the floor to tell them to quiet down. It had to be the tequila—the liquid courage—that had her acting so brazen tonight, and he loved it.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asked.

“Yes! Don’t stop!” She started chanting over and over again, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop—”

He followed her orders, continuing to pound into her at the same speed, his fingers tweaking her nipple. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and the small of his back, his gaze locked on hers—she was so gorgeous.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Cielito,” he told her. “So fucking beautiful taking it like my good girl.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she loudly whined his name into the night. Her cunt was fluttering around him, her entire body quaking. She laid her head back onto her arms, and that told him she was almost to the finish line.

“Come for me, mi amor,” he said. “Let me have it.”

He’d follow soon after he. His orgasm had been slowly building inside him, feeling the pressure rising deep in his guts with every passing second. He was thankful they fucked in the car because there was no way in hell he would’ve been able to last this long if they hadn’t fooled around beforehand.

Javier loved every second of this, the thrill amplifying his pleasure. The thrill was the reason he enjoyed fucking in places he shouldn’t. He craved the adrenaline, something he experienced regularly in Colombia. But now, instead of possibly dying to feel that rush, he just had to try not to get caught.

It wasn’t much longer before they reached a crescendo. She let out an unintelligible cry, all of the muscles in her body pulling taut, choking his dick hard enough to stutter his rhythm—he sucked in a breath through bared teeth, willing himself not to come while he continued fucking her through her high, drawing it out.

It happened fast. Her legs went wobbly like a newborn calf’s. “Shit,” Javier breathed, quickly getting his arm around her middle and the other across her chest. “Don’t fall, baby,” he grunted, hauling her up against his body to prevent her from doing as much. It was his strength that kept her standing and walked her forward, pinning her by the hips to the railing.

By some miracle, his cock stayed inside her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “My legs feel like jello.”

He carefully pulled the robe off one of her shoulders to lightly kiss the side of her neck, her skin prickling with goosebumps. “Don’t apologize,” was his muffled reply. “Means your husband fucked you good.” His lips made a journey to her ear. “Do you wanna stop?” he whispered. “Or can I keep going?”

She reached up behind her, combing her fingers into his sweat-damp hair. “Mmm, definitely keep going.”

Javier smiled. “Yeah?” He kissed that one sensitive spot behind her ear—she hummed happily. “I wanna look at you,” he said. “Can I turn you?”

“Of course. Just help me, please. I don’t trust my legs.”

He chuckled. “I’ve got you.”

He slipped out of her, the back of her robe falling into place. Her legs were still shaking as he helped her face him, pressing her into the railing again. They locked eyes, and both smiled. His hands reached to hold her perfect face while her arms went around his neck, her fingers pushing into the brown waves at the back of his head.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” His thumbs stroked over the apples of her cheeks. “There you are. My beautiful wife.”

Before she could respond, he closed the gap between their lips, hers petal soft and slotting together with his perfectly. He wanted to kiss her slowly. He wanted to savor this moment, take his time, but she made this delicious little noise that broke his resolve, and he wanted nothing more than to hear it again. It made him greedy. Not only did he want that noise, he wanted her moans and her sighs. He wanted to hear her mouth caress the syllables of his name and cry it out when he brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

The kiss turned hungry and passionate, both of them ravenous. When that sweet sound met his ears again, it spurred him on. He was still hard and aching to come. Unable to wait any longer, Javier reached down to hook her thigh onto his hip, then guided his length back into her pussy. The moment his cock breached her tight opening, he moaned into her mouth, his head going dizzy at how good it felt.

He started slowly thrusting, his lips breaking away to nip at her chin. “Can I make you come again?” he breathily asked. “Please?”

Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, and she pulled on it to get his attention. “Is that what you need, baby? You wanna feel me come around your dick? You wanna watch your wife come?”

Javier whimpered—his eyes squeezed shut, and his cock pulsed inside her. He wanted to watch, he wanted to feel and hear her come, taste her tongue on his, and smell the sex on her skin. She already occupied his every thought, and he wanted her to take over his senses, too. Take over his entire world until she was all that existed.

He continued moving his hips, his dick sliding easily with how wet it was between her legs.

Javier looked at her, his tongue wetting his bottom lip. “Yes,” he answered. “Can I?”

Her palm pressed to his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “Yes, Javi.” This time, she was the one who crushed her mouth to his before he could utter another word, her fingers threading into his hair. Her tongue pushed past his lips, and he groaned, the kiss turning messy.

He was still so worked up that it wasn’t going to take a lot to get him off. Javier increased his pace, going harder and faster. There was an audible wetness where they were joined, and he could hear himself working in and out of her used cunt, her arousal dripping down his shaft and balls.

This was what he wanted. To be able to kiss her. To see her and watch her fall apart. He had one hand gripping her leg at his waist, keeping it up, and snaked his other between their bodies, sliding it down her stomach to the apex of her thighs to rub her clit. He swallowed her moan, her fingers tightening in his thick strands of hair. His lips broke away from hers, Javier ducking his head, spreading sloppy kisses along her collarbone, on her shoulder, and up her neck. With her robe open and off her shoulder, it gave him a canvas of bared skin for his mouth to map out.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he murmured against her throat. “Can you do that for me?”

He was doing everything in his power to hold off his own end so she could take him with her. The muscles in his belly were knotted up, his heart pounding in his chest. His cock was throbbing almost uncomfortably with his need to come.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Javier sucked on her earlobe, then returned his attention to her neck and shoulder, kissing and biting the skin. His voice was muffled as he rambled, “I’m gonna make you come, and when I do—fuck—when I do, I’m going with you.” He was circling her clit, giving her the friction she needed. “I'll fill you up, and you’re gonna stay full. I fucking meant it when I said I’m gonna keep you stuffed full of me.” He was panting hot breaths as he kissed her, getting himself worked up with what he was saying. “I can promise you—shit—I can promise you, I am going to get you pregnant. I am going to knock you up.” He swallowed hard, his hips continuing to fuck into her. “You’re gonna have my baby. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

They were pretty sure her actual shot at getting pregnant was the week prior. But since they weren’t 100% positive, they didn’t want to miss their chance, and that possibility made the shit they said while fucking even hotter.

“Please,” she moaned. “Put a baby in me. Please. I want it. Fill me up, Papí.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned. “You can have it—fuck—you can have any-fucking-thing you want. I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

He tucked his face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. It was taking most of his focus to keep himself from blowing his load.

“I’m close, Javi!” Cielito whined. “Oh, god, I’m gonna come!”

The excitement caused his rhythm to falter for a split second. “Shit,” Javier hissed. He quickly got back into tempo, his head lifting to look at his wife. Her eyes were closed, her forehead shining with perspiration, moans spilling from her rounded lips. His fingers kept strumming her clit, and his other hand gently grasped her jaw.

“Look at me,” he panted. “Open your eyes, Cielito. Let me see you.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and he was met with hooded lust-blown eyes.

“Javi,” she gasped. Her fingers were clenched in his hair. “I’m gonna come, Javi.”

“I know, baby. I know. Come for me. Take me with you.”

She was quivering as his hips swung hard and fast into her. Javier watched as each stroke took her higher and higher, his gaze never leaving hers. After half a dozen more thrusts, she finally told him, “I’m coming.” Her eyes squeezed shut, moaning as she peaked; her body seized up, her pussy clamping down on him.

That was it for Javier.

A strangled noise left his throat as his balls drew up, pushing himself all the way to the root inside her. Pleasure erupted from his core, his dick pulsing, painting her insides with rope after rope of his come. He rolled his hips, fucking his spend as deep as it would go. The primal part of his brain making him ignore how sensitive his cock was in order to fill the depths of her cunt.

When every last drop was wrung out of him, he stopped moving, and his body became boneless. He slumped into his wife, but not before wrapping his arms around her and burying his face back into the crook of her neck. All thoughts had left his brain, the man blissed out, basking in her warmth and the familiar scent of her skin. And then she did his favorite thing and started playing with his sweaty hair. He sighed happily, nuzzling his face closer to her like he was trying to burrow himself under her skin.

This. This was the closest thing to heaven on earth. This was his heaven. She was his heaven.

Javier grew up going to church with his parents, and his interpretation of what he read and heard was that if there were a heaven, it wouldn’t be a physical place. There were no pearly gates or St. Peter waiting to greet you. Instead, it was a state of being where there was complete fulfillment and nothing but absolute happiness. How fucking lucky was he that he found that in life?

He stood there, his body pressed into her softer one, as the beat of their hearts slowed and their breaths evened out. There was a low rumble of cars driving on nearby roads and unseen crickets chirping in the distance.

It took a few minutes before either of them spoke.

“Javi?” she croaked.

He kissed the side of her neck. “Yes, baby?”

“I’m ready to go inside.”

He straightened to his full height to see her face. “Okay, mi amor.” He pecked her on the lips, rubbing his hands up and down her robed arms. “Can you walk?”

Her eyebrow rose. “Can I walk? Mr. I’m-going-to-make-you-come-so-many-times-you’re-gonna-need-a-wheelchair.”

Javier tried not to smile and failed, his hands pausing. “A wheelchair?”

“Yes, a wheelchair. Because my husband loves to fuck me to the point I can’t walk.” She wasn’t wrong, and it made his chest puff up. “Should’ve brought one home from work a long time ago.”

“You don’t need a wheelchair, baby.” He gently squeezed her biceps. “I did it, and I’ll get you where you need to go. Does a bath sound good? Or do you wanna get into bed? We could also watch TV on the couch—order a pay-per-view movie.”

Her lips lifted into a knowing smile. “Pay-per-view movie, huh? Like, porn? Javi, when you stay in hotels by yourself, do you order pay-per-view porn? You can be honest with me. I’m your wife.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean, not every time… what about you? You can be honest with me. I’m your husband.”

“A time or two, out of curiosity.”

He smiled. “Out of curiosity, huh?” His voice went a little deeper. “Did you touch yourself while watching…?”

“What do you think?”

Javier grabbed her hips. He leaned in to hover his mouth over hers, nuzzling her nose with his. “I think,” he rasped, “you played with your pretty pussy while watching. Did you get yourself off with your fingers?”

“Vibrator. You know I don’t like playing acoustic pussy unless I have to.”

“You like my fingers.”

“Because you’re sexy and an acoustic pussy maestro.” She brushed his lips with hers. “It’s your turn to choose,” she said. “Bath, bed, or couch, Mr. Peña?”

“Bath sounds nice.”

“Bath sounds wonderful.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do, Mrs. Peña.” He ended the sentence with a kiss, something slow and tender. They broke apart, smiling. “Let’s go, Cielito.”

The rectangular whirlpool tub was massive enough that your husband could sit across from you with his long legs fully extended while yours rested over his. Javi’s cheeks and chest were painted with a pink flush from the bath’s heat, his broad shoulders dotted with a constellation of freckles. Your bodies were submerged in the hot water, covered from your shoulders down, the bathtub’s jets rumbling as they massaged your backs. It was relaxing, the warmth of the water and the pressure of the spray along your spine easing all of the tension from your body.

To continue the celebration of your nuptials, your husband brought the complimentary bottle of champagne into the bathtub with you. He popped it open and poured you each a glass, the two of you toasting to your marriage and the start of your family before drinking and chatting, laughter quickly filling the room. The bottle was over halfway empty, and you both were buzzed.

“You’re fucking with me,” he said with a grin. His arm was resting on the edge of the tub, holding his flute of bubbly. The man always had to be touching you, his other palm under the water rubbing up and down your calf, but it paused when he spoke.

Your smile got bigger. “I’m not!” you laughed. Your champagne was sitting on the bathtub’s rim, your fingers fiddling with the stem of the glass. “When I graduated nursing school,” you said, “I was trying to figure out what I wanted to specialize in. So, I did a rotation in labor and delivery, and I had this mother in labor who needed a C-section. Like, it’d been hours with zero progress, and the doctor called it. She told the couple, and I quote, ‘This baby has to come out the other way.’ I shit you not, after the doctor left, the father looked at me and asked, ‘They’re gonna pull the baby out of her butt?’”

He huffed amusedly, his head shaking in disbelief. “Jesus.” He took a sip of his drink and set it back down.

“It was so hard not to laugh,” you said. “Surprisingly, not the dumbest or wildest thing anyone has ever said to me at work.”

His expression turned curious. “What’s the wildest thing someone has said to you?”

“Ummm.” Your eyes left his to think about it for a second, your mind running through many memorable interactions until one in particular stuck out. Your attention went back to him. “Probably the guy who may or may not have been a gang member who gave me his number and told me if I ever needed someone taken out—as in murdered—to give him a call. He even said it’d be free of charge, which was weirdly sweet? Not that I’d actually take him up on it,” you clarified, lifting your glass to your lips for a sip.

His eyes rounded. “What…?”

Your champagne returned to its spot on the tub’s edge. “It’s kinda like how people propose to me all of the time because they’re so thankful I brought them food after they fasted for their procedures. When scary-looking dudes who may or may not have gang ties come to the hospital, and you treat them like any other patient—you know, with dignity and respect—they really, really appreciate it. Their way of thanking you is by offering their services or illegal goods.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Illegal goods, like drugs…?”

“Sure, and weapons.” You shrugged. “One guy offered me illegal European cheeses, and I won’t lie, that one was tempting.”

“Do you still have the contacts?”

“No. I never kept their info, and let’s be real, they weren’t using their actual names. Once they left the hospital, they were no longer my patient, and what they did was none of my business. Snitches get stitches and all that jazz.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and his hand began a new circuit along the skin of your leg. “What’s the dumbest thing someone said?” He had another sip.

“Oh, listen to this. A male patient came into the ER complaining about abdominal pain. After the doctor did a quick exam, he ordered an ultrasound. When we told the patient about the ultrasound, he shouted, ‘I’m not pregnant! I’m a man!’”

“You’re fucking with me,” Javi said again, looking just as amused as the first time, his champagne flute hovering over the water.

“I swear I’m not!” you giggled. “He said that! This guy was in his mid-fifties, too. His wife was so embarrassed. The doctor had to pull out a fucking human anatomy diagram to educate the dude.”

“I’d be a shitty nurse. I wouldn’t have the patience for all of the stupidity.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, thinking about Javi as a nurse. “Between your grumpy resting face and the fact you cannot hide what you’re feeling, you’d be so bad. No offense, babe.” You patted his knee underwater.

“None taken. I said it first. It’s nice knowing my wife has the patience of a saint to put up with my bullshit.” He raised his glass your way in toast, then took a drink.

“Stop it. You’re perfect. Now, are you finally gonna tell me how much you spent on this room?”

He smiled, setting his champagne back onto the rim. “No.”

“Rude.”

He chuckled. “Just enjoy it, baby.” Water droplets trickled as he lifted your leg out of the bath and leaned in, kissing the inside of your ankle.

“But I’m curious as fuck,” you whined.

He returned your leg to the water. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Earlier, you mentioned we sometimes have to compromise, so I’ll tell you how I got the room, but I won’t tell you what it cost me.”

That had you perking up. Maybe you could call the front desk and find out the price yourself.

“The front desk won’t tell you,” he continued, looking a little too pleased with himself. Of course, he knew what you were thinking.

You deflated with a sigh. “Fine,” you said. “How were you able to get the room?”

“The manager is mi prima’s (my cousin’s) brother-in-law.”

You grinned. “You’ve got connections. That’s very sexy of you.”

He was smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges and shining with love—a look you were all too familiar with and hoped he could see on your face. His hand continued stroking your leg.

He chuckled. “Even with connections, it took some negotiating. It was worth it, though. You’re worth it. I know our wedding was pretty short notice, and since we couldn’t get time off from work for me to whisk you away on a real honeymoon—which I plan on doing sometime this year before we have a baby—this was the next best thing to show you how much I love you and what you mean to me. You deserve the very best, and that’s what I’m always gonna give you, and nothing less.”

His words had you melting, your heart skipping a beat. It was a regular occurrence where Javier said or did something that made you wonder once again what you did to deserve him in your life or to be loved in this way you never knew existed. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“I beg to differ because I am married to arguably the greatest man on earth, who worships me like a goddess, and that’s not even an exaggeration. A freaking goddess! Me! Insane.” It was crazy how much you loved this man, and the alcohol had your feelings threatening to burst from your lips. So, you let them. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You make me feel so safe. You make me feel comfortable and so fucking loved. Javi, I’ve never been so loved, and I know it’s sad, and you hate thinking about it, but I’ve never had someone love me unconditionally like you do.” The emotions had tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ve never experienced a love like this that I feel deep in my soul, and that’s how I know it’s real. I’m not as poetic as you are, so I’m just going to say what comes to mind. Prepare yourself for some sappy bullshit.”

He was watching you with a fond expression and watery eyes. “I’m ready.”

“Hold my hand.” You reached out to him, and he grasped your fingers, his thumb rubbing over the tops of them. You cleared your throat to compose yourself. “There was an emptiness inside my chest?” You said it in question. “A lifelong longing for something I never knew I needed until you came along. You redefined the void. You gave it meaning. You’ve shown me what it is to be seen, to be cherished, to be truly loved. You’ve shown me a world that, up until you entered mine, was nothing more than a fantasy I’d only ever dreamed about. It was something out of reach, you know? But here you are, a dream come true, who loves me unconditionally, and for that, you have my love, you have my total devotion, you get my every morning and my every night. You get slow dances in the kitchen and four a.m. grilled cheeses—ooh, I like how that kinda rhymes.” Your husband laughed, his lips curved up in a smile. “I’m not half bad at this. Javi, I am going to give you the life you’ve always deserved but never felt worthy of—a wife, kids, dog, house, and hopefully, happiness. I want to make you as happy as you make me. This is my long way of saying I love you, Javier Peña. Thank you for loving me.”

“I’m so fucking happy,” he replied. “Come here.” He beckoned you toward him, lightly tugging your hand. Without another thought, you moved, the bath sloshing as you pushed yourself up onto your knees and crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. Javi wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly to his body, your face nestled into the curve of his neck. His head tilted to touch yours. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so fucking much. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how fucking lucky I am to have you. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, and sometimes I catch myself wondering if this is all a dream. You have no idea how many times I’ve almost pinched myself because being with you feels so right and so perfect that I think it all has to be too good to be true, and I’m gonna wake up alone in my bed at the ranch or in fucking Colombia.” You gasped, your heart squeezing at how heartbreaking that was. “Being with you is teaching me that life can be kind and there is hope for the future. You’re my future, and even though there are moments where it feels too surreal and too fucking good, it is real. What we have is real, and I am grateful for you. I will forever be grateful that you chose me, and I will never take for granted a single day that I get to share my life with you.” His head turned to kiss your cheek. “This is my long way of saying I love you, too. Thank you for loving me.”

“Oh, Javi.” You sat up, taking his face into your hands. Sitting in his lap, you were taller than him, and his chin raised to look at you with his red-rimmed eyes. “It is real. It’s so fucking real. I love you.”

That was an understatement of how you felt about him. Not when it felt as if his heart was beating in your chest, and looking into his eyes was like coming home—the familiarity, the comfort, the safety. Almost as if you’d always known that those irises, with their unique mix of chocolatey-colored hues, would belong to the one who was meant for you. A recognition, a certainty when your gazes met that he was your person, your other half.

Emotions had you smashing your mouth against his, kissing him hard. You poured your love into each press of your lips to his, letting him taste the devotion on your tongue. His arms were wrapped around your middle, holding you flush to him. It didn’t matter that you’d already come a handful of times tonight. The things he said had you wanting, no, needing him again, the desire searing through your veins and pooling in your belly.

An interesting side effect of being in love with Javi and knowing he loved you, too, was how it made you so fucking horny. Confessing your love to one another was basically foreplay, and wasn’t that adorable? A couple of love-sick fools getting turned on from loving each other. Robyn would absolutely fake-gag if you told her about you and your husband’s love kink.

He sounded breathless when he came up for air. “I love you.” He messily kissed your chin and the shape of your jaw. “I fucking love you,” he murmured into your skin.

“I love you, too.” His face was still framed in your hands, and you pushed him back to gain access to the line of his neck, your head dipping to swipe your tongue up his salty skin.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his throat bobbing. You rocked your hips, rubbing his already half-hard cock with your cunt, his hands grabbing ahold of your ass, the soft flesh firmly filling his palms as he helped you move. You sucked over his pulse point hard enough to leave a mark, Javi groaning, “Fuck, I love you.” The words vibrated under your mouth, making your lips curl in delight.

“I love you, too, Javi.” Your mouth traveled up to take his earlobe between your teeth, nibbling on it before your lips were at his ear. “I really fucking love you.”

“I’m yours.” His fingers dug into your asscheeks, moving you. “You fucking own me. I’m yours forever.”

“And I’ll always be yours, Javi. Always. For-fucking-ever.”

His large hand came up, lightly grasping your jaw to maneuver your face in front of his, Javier’s lips colliding with yours. This kiss was much more frantic, the headiness of passion overtaking you both, matching each other's energy, heartbeat for heartbeat, breath for breath. He was completely hard as you rolled your hips along his shaft, the bath’s water lapping at the sides of the tub. Your arms went around his neck, threading your fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

You loved this man so much that he was your entire world, everything that mattered, and the wild thing was, he felt the same way about you—you were his entire world and everything that mattered to him. It was an intoxicating feeling to love and to be loved.

The sweet heat of want burned at the base of your spine, the tension rising with each desperate kiss until it hit a breaking point. In sync, your mouths separated, you lifted your hips high enough for Javi to position his cock at your entrance, and then you sank onto it.

“That’s it, baby.”

“Yes,” you gasped when he was fully seated inside of you.

There was nothing better than the familiar fullness or how he stretched you open.

Your gazes were locked.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said. “Use me, Cielito. Make yourself come. I wanna feel you.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond. Javi leaned up to capture your lips once more, his hands gripping handfuls of your ass. Your palms slid up his flushed chest to grab his shoulders, and you did what he said: you started moving. You ground your hips, keeping most of him inside you while rubbing your clit on the coarse hairs at the base of his dick. Sparks danced in your core, your pulse pounding. Your husband helped you grind in his lap.

“Te amo (I love you),” he said between kisses. “Te amo muchísimo, mi amor (I love you so much, my love). Eres mi todo (You are my everything). Toma lo que es tuyo (Take what is yours).”

“I love you, too, Javi.” Pleasure built, and the coil in your tummy started to tighten. “I fucking love you. I’ll always love you.” Your hips circled in the most delicious rotations.

His tongue delved between your lips, plundering your mouth, moans coming from the back of your throat. With how close you were physically—your bodies pressed together like pieces of a puzzle—and emotionally—your love and devotion for each other—this was the closest you’d ever been with another person, and it felt much more intimate than sex. It was something deeper. Something on a different level where you were caught up in one another, lost in your own little world and the overwhelming feeling of love. Maybe it was the oxytocin, the love hormone, flooding your system that had you thinking this must be what it felt like when your souls came together, the two halves melding to become one.

The water splashed against your back and ribs, the bath’s jets continued to rumble. You didn’t stop the rocking of your hips or sloppily kissing your husband. He felt so good inside you, the pressure on your clit pushing you higher and higher.

“Eres mi vida (You are my life).” It was muffled into your lips. “Eres todo para mí (You are everything to me). Quiero que me uses como tú quieras (I want you to use me however you want).” He switched to English. “I wanna feel my wife come. You gonna get yourself off?“

“Yes.”

“My good girl. I love you. Take what you need, mi amor. Don’t stop. You come, I come. I’m following you. You’re taking me with you.”

Your orgasm was close, the muscles in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“I will, Javi. I will. I fucking love you.”

This man you married knew exactly what would have you careening toward your climax. He took your breasts into his hands, ducking his head to suck on your hardened nipple, his fingers teasing the other one. It felt like every nerve ending in your body lit up, your eyes closed, the shock of it making you cry out.

“I love you,” you repeated. “I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Each time you rolled your hips, it created the best friction against your clit, and that, combined with the attention he was giving your tits, had you tumbling over the edge, coming with a gasp of his name. This orgasm was softer than the others. When your body tensed and your cunt squeezed him, Javi hissed. He grabbed your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as he used his strength to keep moving you in his lap. He kept those gentle waves of pleasure flowing through you, letting you ride out your high while your husband chased his own.

“I’m yours, Javi,” you told him. When you opened your eyes, you saw his were shut tight, and his teeth were bared. It was that sexy look he got when he was close to coming; he just needed a push to get there. You touched your forehead to his, your fingers clutched in his hair. “I’m yours, baby. I want you to come. I want my husband to come. I want you to fill me up and fuck it so deep inside me you knock me up.” He whined, and that just encouraged you. “Get me pregnant, Javi. Let me have it. Let me feel it.”

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I love you. I’m gonna—Christ—I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. I’m gonna fuck you full of my come. Fuck it—shit—fuck it so deep in your pussy it takes. Te amo, te amo, te amo, te amo más que a nada (I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything).” The groan he let out was guttural. He hugged you to him, holding you still, his face pressing against your throat as he came. His teeth sunk into your neck, the pleasurable pain causing you to moan. His cock jerked inside you with each spurt of his spend gushing into your inner depths, and when it stopped, his heavy breaths were hot on your skin.

The only sound in the bathroom was the tub's jets. The water had turned lukewarm. The large mirror on the opposite wall over the two sinks was still fogged up. It was peaceful and calm. Time stood still in this little bubble where you luxuriated in one another and those happy chemicals flowing through your bodies. All of your muscles relaxed, making you melt into your husband. Javi nuzzled his face into your neck, and your fingernails lovingly scratched at his scalp, earning you a happy hum.

You loved these moments. You loved how comfortable it was to hold each other, your bodies and souls bare. You didn’t feel self-conscious or a need to cover up. You just wanted to share in the afterglow with the man you loved.

Javier told you once that his favorite part of having sex was this: the post-sex glow when you cuddled close and came down with the other person. He loved the intimacy of it. He craved it. He also revealed that down in Colombia, he’d pay the sex workers he slept with extra to stay with him longer instead of leaving immediately after he came so he could have some semblance of that intimacy. It was a little sad if you thought about it too hard; if you thought about how lonely and touch-starved he was, that was made exponentially worse because his love language was physical touch. You’d never let him feel that loneliness again. You were happy to spend those minutes with him after you both finished, cradled in his arms. You were happy to give him that intimacy he craved. You were happy to do whatever it took to make him feel as loved as he made you.

Seconds turned into minutes. Finally, Javi broke the stillness with a kiss to the skin his face was pressed against.

“Javi?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.”

He was smiling when his head lifted to look you in the eyes, and you matched his expression.

“I love you, too.”

“I have a serious question.”

His smile fell. “Yeah?”

“Are you a sea lion?”

As expected, his face pinched in confusion.

“What…?”

“Are you a sea lion?” you repeated.

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean, you must be a sea lion ‘cause I can sea-you-lion in my bed tonight.” To really sell it, you wagged your eyebrows.

He tried to hold in the laugh, his cheeks flushing red, but he couldn’t keep it in. He sputtered into full-on laughter, his eyes practically disappearing with how they crinkled in glee. It had you cracking up, too, joining him in the merriment. His head fell against your shoulder as you both laughed at your stupid pick-up line.

It took you back to your wedding ceremony, when you both vowed your marriage would be filled with love, happiness, and laughter. Which was another thing you loved about your husband: he made you feel comfortable enough to be your true goofy self. Something you didn’t feel in your past relationships. But Javi–even with him being a somewhat serious, no-nonsense guy—he appreciated your humor and laughed at your dumb jokes. He never made you feel stupid or embarrassed, and it was truly a breath of fresh air that you could simply be you.

Eventually, you both calmed down. Your husband kissed your cheek and then sat up, rubbing his palms up and down your ribs. He looked at you with soft eyes and a sweet smile.

“I am so fucking in love with you,” he said.

You grinned. “And I am so fucking in love with you,” you replied, poking the tip of his nose. He snatched your hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss your wedding ring.

“I love you naked like this,” he rasped. His burning gaze traveled from your face to your breasts, drinking in the sight of you before his eyes returned to yours. “But you know what would look really good on you?”

“Lingerie? That red thong you love?”

“Me.”

“Oh,” you gasped, your eyes widening. “That just made my pussy flutter.”

“I know.” Because he was still inside you.

You gulped. “Can I, uh, see your left hand real quick?” It came out of the water, dripping. He held it straight up for you to see the back of it. You stared at his fingers, seeing the gold band on his ring finger, and nodded. “Yep, that is a wedding ring. Jesus, you really did marry me. Me. That’s fucking crazy.”

“Stop that.”

Your attention went back to him to see he was frowning. “Stop what?”

He sighed and took both of your hands into his. “Thinking I’m out of your league. I hate it. Cielito, you’re fucking beautiful. Say it. Say, ‘I’m beautiful.’”

“You’re beautiful.”

He gave you a grumpy look. “You know what I meant. Say it.”

The thought of repeating it made you wince, but you did it anyway. You mumbled, “I’mbeautiful.”

“Say it louder.”

“I hate this,” you whined.

“And we’re working on fixing that. So, say it again.”

You took a deep breath. This was so fucking hard. “I’m beautiful.”

He smiled. “You are. Repeat it.”

“I’m beautiful.”

“Again.”

“How many times are we doing this?”

“As many as it takes for you to believe it. Again.”

You sighed. “I’m beautiful.”

“What are you?”

“I’m beautiful.”

He made you say it five more times, and it got easier each time you said it.

“One more,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.”

“Good girl.” He closed the gap to kiss you, his big hands coming up to caress your face. When his lips left yours, he nudged your nose with his. “You’re beautiful, smart, funny, sweet, sexy, talented, and an amazing partner. You’re perfect. I need you to remember that. You’re perfect,” he said again, “and I am lucky to have you as my wife.”

“Thank you, Javi. You know I struggle when it comes to that stuff.”

“Yeah, I do know. We’ll keep working on it.” He kissed your forehead.

“I’m lucky to have such a supportive husband who calls me out on my bullshit.”

He huffed. “You do the same for me. I love you, mi amor.”

“I love you, too.” You pecked him on the lips, then pulled back when you started to yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You ready for bed?” he asked.

The question made you realize you were exhausted. “God, yeah.”

“Let’s go, baby.”

Thirty minutes later found you dry, your teeth brushed, and naked under the covers, with Javi spooning you from behind. The curtains were closed, the bedroom dark save for the alarm clock on the bedside table, whose glowing red numbers told you it was almost two a.m. Your husband’s arm was around your front, your hand over his on your breast, your rings touching. His nose was buried in the hair at the back of your head.

It was cozy and warm, feeling so happy and loved. Sleep was coming for you, and your eyelids were getting heavy, your thoughts slowing. In your sleepy haze, you remembered something.

“Javi?” you whispered.

“Yes, Cielito?” he answered just as quietly.

“I just realized Valentine’s Day is next month. I don’t know if you have anything planned yet, but you know what I’d love to do?”

“What?”

“You.”

He chuckled, hugging you a little tighter and kissing your hair. “That’s what we’ll do then. Any other requests?”

You smiled, wiggling back to get closer to him. “Nope. Do you have any requests?”

He was going to ask for the red thong.

“You said something about the red thong in the bath.”

There it was. You giggled. “You got it, babe.” You patted his hand, your rings clinking together. “Sweetest dreams, my wonderful, perfect husband.”

“They’ll be about you, my wonderful, perfect wife. I love you, Cielito.”

“I love you, too.”

Steve lifted his wrist to check the time, the hands on the watch face showing 3:16 p.m.

He frowned. He could’ve sworn he told Javier earlier when they talked on the phone to meet in the hotel restaurant at three p.m. Not 3:30, three on the dot, because he had to get Connie and the kids to Laredo’s tiny airport by six p.m. for their flight to Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, where they’d get on a bigger plane to take them home to Miami.

Where the hell were the newlyweds?

He was sitting at the head of the long eight-person dining room table at the hotel’s restaurant, Zaragoza Grill, with a clear view of the entrance. Instead of a chair to his right, there was a wooden highchair with his one-year-old, Nate, sitting in it, chewing on a small slice of bread from the bread basket. Connie was next to their youngest in the middle seat, talking to Stevie, their three-year-old, on her other side while he used crayons to color the paper kids’ menu the hostess had given him. Olivia was at the other end of the table, opposite Steve, coloring her own menu.

His arm lowered as he looked at his wife. “Con?” he said.

Her head turned his way. “Yes?”

“I told Javi three, right? Not, 3:30?”

“Yes, you told him three.”

“Why aren’t they here yet?”

“Honey, they got married yesterday. You remember what it was like the days after our wedding. All of the laundry we folded.” She smiled.

‘Folding laundry’ was their codeword for sex, and he absolutely remembered the days following their wedding. They went at it like fucking rabbits and didn’t leave their hotel room in Cabo San Lucas for days.

He smirked. “How could I forget our honeymoon, baby? We had a good time. A really good time. You know, we should go back to Mexico. Maybe we could get your sister to watch the kids while we go on a little vacation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming, Steve. We’re not gonna be able to go on vacation alone until Nate graduates high school, and that’s a good seventeen years away.”

He sighed. She was right. They couldn’t pawn their children off on someone to fuck off to Mexico for a week. “You’re right, sweetheart.”

“I always am.”

That was the end of their conversation, Connie’s attention returning to Stevie.

Behind him was a table for two against the brick wall. The young women sitting at it had walked by them when they were seated, and he estimated they were in their twenties. He couldn’t help eavesdropping on their conversation when one of the girls asked, “Can you believe all that noise last night?”

“Oh my god, I know, right? Like from what it sounded like, either the woman in the room above us was getting it real good, or the rumors are true, and this place is actually haunted. But I just don’t think spirits of nuns would make those noises, you know what I mean?”

“Girl, the moaning? The screaming? The sound of that pounding? Whoever was staying upstairs is one lucky bitch. Her man knows what he’s doing, and I don’t blame her for not being able to stay quiet. I also think they probably figured that since they were on the third floor, no one would hear them going at it.”

Steve inhaled deeply, shaking his head. He knew who was staying on the third floor—he’d even been inside the massive suite. Javier had handed over $150 per night, a pair of expensive courtside tickets to a San Antonio Spurs vs. three-time defending NBA champions Chicago Bulls game, and all of his wife’s tamales from his and his father’s freezers for it. The hotel apparently didn’t rent out the Presidential Suite to just anyone to keep its allure of being something exclusive for the rich and famous who passed through the area. Javier’s local fame, unfortunately, wasn’t enough.

That didn’t stop him, though.

His pal could be a real stubborn son of a bitch.

Javier got intel that the manager was a huge fan of his mom’s tamales and the San Antonio Spurs. He lucked out that his wife’s tamales were the closest to his late mother’s, so he bribed the manager with fifty-something tamales and the highly sought-after tickets to the Spurs vs. Bulls game to book the place at full price.

There was no way in hell Steve would ever pay $150 per night for a hotel room. That was a month and a half’s worth of mortgage payments on his four-bedroom, four-bath home in Florida, for Christ’s sake. The only reason Steve rented a two-room, double-queen suite here in Texas was because Javi and his wife paid for it. They wanted his family to have roomy accommodations since they had their three kids, which was greatly appreciated, and their room only cost a reasonable fifty dollars a night.

Movement at the restaurant’s entrance caught his attention, and he watched as the new Mr. and Mrs. Javier Peña made their way inside. Steve snorted at seeing the newlyweds in matching outfits of jeans and lavender-colored shirts, Javi’s a button-up, and his wife in a V-neck. If that wasn’t ridiculous enough, they were practically fused together, with her tucked under his arm and pressed against his side, their heads close together, smiling and talking as they walked his way.

Steve had been friends with Javier for close to twenty years, and in all that time, he had never seen his best friend happier than he was with his bride. He wasn’t the same man Steve knew in Colombia. He wasn’t even the same man who lived with his family after he took down the Cali Cartel and quit his job. He changed, and he changed for the better.

To be honest, at first, Steve worried about his friend leaving the DEA and returning to civilian life. Javi had all of the signs of being what they call a lifer—someone who spends, if not all, then a significant portion of their career with the same agency. He’d been married to his job and fully committed to seeing it through no matter what it cost him. He didn’t visit his parents for years, and when his mother tragically passed away, he’d only gone home for a few days. Instead of grieving her death, he threw himself into his work. It sure as hell wasn’t healthy, but it was what he had to do to keep going.

Steve was so fucking thankful his friend got out and was getting a second chance. After all of the bullshit he went through, Javier deserved to be happy, and there was no doubt that this girl he married made him happy. She was the best thing to happen to him, and even though they needed to cool it with the PDA in front of his kids, Steve could admit they were really good for each other. He would never say it out loud, but he thought it was cute that a grumpy fucker like Javi ended up someone so bright and cheery.

He rechecked his watch to see it was 3:20 p.m.

The couple approached the table.

“Hey, guys,” the dark-haired man greeted as he pulled out the chair across from Connie for his wife to sit in. “Sorry, we’re late.” He got her settled, kissing the top of her head before taking the seat to Steve’s left.

“Tío (Uncle)!” Stevie shouted and hopped off his chair to run around the table to Javier.

His friend smiled. “Hey, mi principito (my little prince),” he grunted as he lifted the child into his lap.

When Javier was around, Steve and Connie no longer existed to their two eldest kids. Did that bother them? No. It gave them a break, and they weren’t going to be mad about that. They never expected Javi to take on the role of an uncle to their children. They never expected him to be as great as he was with their kids, either. He took his title of tío (uncle) seriously and loved the little Murphys as if they were his flesh and blood. It honestly caught Steve off guard the first time he saw how gentle and sweet Javi was with Olivia.

Steve could admit that at first, he didn’t like that his friend was so good and helpful with his daughter because it made him look bad. Steve grew up believing that, aside from the occasional diaper change, everything involving the children was his wife’s job. Looking back, he could see how that was a shitty way of thinking, and he felt ashamed for putting Connie through all of that. Seeing everything Javi did and how it helped his wife ended up being the swift kick in the ass he needed to step up and be a better father and husband.

“We lost track of time,” the bride said. “Empire Strikes Back was on the TV.”

That title sounded familiar.

“Is that one of those,” Steve started. “What’s it called? Star Trek movies?”

“Star Wars,” Javi corrected. Stevie got off his lap to run back to his original chair to grab his menu.

Nate had lost interest in the bread, so Connie put it on the table in front of the baby. Steve leaned down to his right to get into the diaper bag on the floor, grabbing a bottle of watered-down apple juice that he handed to the one-year-old as he sat back up.

“The ones with those, uh, laser swords?” Steve asked.

Javi sighed. “Lightsabers.”

“Never pegged you as a sci-fi guy.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Peña interjected. She looked past her husband at him. “Javi’s a space nerd.”

Steve smiled. “Is he, now?”

His son returned, holding the paper up to his tío (uncle). “Look!” He had crayons clutched in his other hand.

Javi’s attention went to the toddler. “Were you coloring, bud?” The man put the child in his lap again, and the page with a rainbow of scribbles on the table in front of them. “It looks good, buddy. What are you getting to eat?” He had an arm over the back of his wife’s chair, his other hand pointing at the list of three options, reading what each one was. Mrs. Peña watched the interaction with a fond expression.

Steve looked at Connie. “Honey?”

She met his eyes. “Yes, baby?”

“Five bucks says our kids will have a new cousin by the end of the year.”

She smiled. “I’d be stupid to take that bet.”

“She’s right,” Javi added before going back to talking to Stevie.

“Y’all are no fun.” Steve pouted.

The server interrupted to take their drink orders. After she left, Olivia called from across the table. “Tío (Uncle)?”

Javi turned to see her concerned face. “¿Sí, mi tesorito (Yes, my little treasure)?”

She asked him something in Spanish while pointing at his head, and whatever the question was made the other man’s cheeks flush and his new wife’s eyes widen. Connie looked where their daughter indicated and tried but failed to stifle a giggle.

“What did she ask?” Steve asked. His eyes traveled to each adult, hoping for an explanation.

Javier’s expression could be described as ‘panicked’ when he met Connie’s eyes. She didn’t even let him say anything. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know what happened, so you have to take this one.”

“What did she ask?” he tried again.

Connie caught his gaze and put her hand up to hide her mouth from Olivia while she mouthed at him, ‘Hickey,’ and pointed at the side of her neck. Great. Steve pressed his fingers to his forehead and sighed. They better come up with a believable excuse. His daughter did not need to be finding out what hickies were.

Javi finally answered Olivia in Spanish, and the young girl asked him another question Steve didn’t catch.

He hated it when they did this. He could make out some words, but his daughter and her tío (uncle) sometimes spoke too quickly for him to understand. They also liked to make it obvious when they were talking shit about him because they found it funny and enjoyed annoying the hell out of him.

Javier smiled and shook his head as he replied.

“What are they talking about?” Steve asked.

His friend’s missus threw him a bone. “Olivia asked about the bruise on Javi’s neck, and he told her what happened; he hit it on something last night, and he’s embarrassed about it.” That was a decent excuse. “She also wondered if it hurt, and he reassured her that it didn’t. Is that right, guys?” She addressed the uncle and niece.

His daughter said, “Yep!”

Javi turned his way and nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced over to Olivia and then back to Steve as he said something in Spanish that his daughter laughed at.

This was shit that made his jaw clench. “Hey, you guys know it’s against the rules to talk about me in Spanish.”

“Who said we were talking about you?” Javi replied. His attention returned to Olivia, the two of them, plus his wife, chatting in the language Steve barely understood.

“Leave them alone, Steve,” Connie said, and his eyes went to her. “It’s good practice for Olivia.”

“It’s rude,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

The server returned with their drinks, and the newlyweds had a chance to look over their menus, so the table ordered their food. Minutes passed. While Stevie was occupied with coloring, and the women were talking to his daughter about some show or movie he’d never heard of, Javier leaned his way and whispered for only him to hear, “Why does Olivia think I play baseball?”

The blonde man’s eyebrows knit together as he thought over the question. Why would Olivia think that Javi played baseball? It hit him: the conversation Connie and he had the day before on their way to the party after the ceremony. They used baseball terms to discuss whether the newlyweds would figure out how to fool around on the drive back to the reception.

He leaned toward his friend to reply just as quietly, “She wasn’t supposed to mention it to you.”

“Mention what?”

“It was nothing.”

“It was obviously something because your daughter is under the impression that I am a shitty baseball player.”

Steve had to hold in his laugh, air quickly leaving his nose. He needed to give his friend some kind of answer.

“You know how Connie and I use ‘folding laundry’ as a codeword?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Well, we were talking more in-depth about the topic, but we used baseball terminology, so if the children overheard, they wouldn’t know what the hell we were talking about.”

“And it was about me…?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you discussing my sex life…?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I was being an ass and bet Connie that you horndogs wouldn’t be able to keep it in your pants on the drive to the party.”

“She would’ve lost. I hope she didn’t take it.”

“Of course, she didn’t, and I sure as hell didn’t take her bet that you guys would be able to wait until you got back to the hotel to score the first run on opening day.”

“Consummate our marriage?”

“Yeah.”

“That was a losing bet, too.”

“How the hell did you manage that with your wife driving?” he harshly whispered. She drove the two of them from the ceremony to Chucho’s house. “Wait, don’t tell me.”

“It was later on our way to the hotel,” he told him anyway. “We stopped in a field.”

“Are you guys trying to get arrested?”

“It was in the middle of nowhere. We were fine.”

Whatever happened to saving those kinds of activities for the bedroom?

“Uh huh, right.”

“Hold on a second, if Olivia overheard your baseball shit and assumed I played, where’d she get the idea that I’m bad at it? Did you fucking tell her that?”

Again, Steve had to keep himself from laughing, but this time, when he whispered, his voice was a little squeaky. “Maybe…”

His friend sat back to glare at him and forgot to keep his voice low. “You asshole.”

“You ass’ole!” the three-year-old in Javi’s lap parroted. “You ass’ole!”

The other man’s eyes rounded. “Oh, Shit. I mean, shoot.”

Steve groaned. “Goddammit, Javier,” he hissed.

“OH, SHI’!” Stevie yelled at the top of his lungs. He turned his head to look at Steve, pointing at him. “Daddy, you ass’ole!”

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[ch0llies]

SWEET BUT PSYCHO | MATTHEW STURNIOLO

oneshot - insane!reader x matt

Your love with Matt Sturniolo isn’t just intense- it’s destructive. You push him until he snaps. He controls you until you break. It’s toxic. It’s addictive. And it’s inevitable. Because neither of you know how to stop. And neither of you want to.

story warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), p in v, choking, hair pulling, humiliation (if you squint), toxic relationship (teetering on the edge of abusive), psychical assault (kinda?), and just fucked up. If any of these topics upset you…don’t read!

word count: 7k

“Grab a cop gun kinda crazy, she’s poison but tasty and people say run don’t walk away.”

Everyone knew you were insane. It wasn’t a secret, and you sure as hell didn’t try to hide it. But how you ended up with him….that was the question no one dared to ask.

Matthew Sturniolo, a textbook normal student. He wasn’t the loudest in the room, didn’t have the highest GPA, and never fought for the spotlight. He played lacrosse, kept to himself, and floated through school overlooked by most.

So when you -the girl known for nothing pretty but her face- showed up hand-in-hand with him on the first day of freshman year, it was a cultural reset for everyone and even now, six years later and well into your sophomore year of college, your relationship (if that’s even what you want to call it) still left people questioning.

Because it wasn’t just love. It was war. It was swerving off the road and screaming at each other in parking lots, only to end up tangled together in the backseat minutes later. But the highs… the highs were impossible to leave.

You were toxic together. Everyone saw it. Everyone knew it. You both knew it.

“Tell me you don’t love it,” you taunted, standing in the middle of his dorm room, wearing the smirk that always drove him insane. “Tell me you don’t love this.”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his hands flexing at his sides like he was debating whether to grab you or push you away. Maybe both. Probably both.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, voice tight, low.

You took a step closer, running a slow hand down his chest, feeling the way his heart pounded beneath your palm.

“And yet,” you whispered, tilting your head, “you’re still here.”

His fingers curled into fists, but he didn’t move.

That was the thing about Matthew Sturniolo. He played it safe with everything else in life like his grades, his friends, and his future. But when it came to you?

He threw himself into your fire every time.

Because love wasn’t supposed to feel this dangerous. But with you, it was the only way it ever felt real.

And you knew exactly how far you could push him. How to dig your nails under his skin, tear him open, and make him feel you. Because Matthew Sturniolo didn’t react the way most guys did. He didn’t throw you aside or run for the hills when you lost yourself to your insanity. No, he fought back.

He gritted his teeth, the muscle in his jaw twitching, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t tell you to stop.

You laughed, fingers still tracing his chest, voice syrupy sweet. “What’s wrong, baby?” You pouted, mocking. “Cat got your tongue?”

Matt exhaled sharply through his nose. His restraint was slipping. It always did.

It was like the first time in high school, when you showed up at his summer lacrosse practice, perched on the hood of his car in nothing but a bikini with a cigarette between your fingers. You didn’t even smoke, you just wanted to see what he would do.

The moment he spotted you, his entire demeanor darkened. His teammates noticed, too, murmuring about how he was whipped, how you had him wrapped around your little finger.

You’d just smiled when he stormed over.

“Since when do you-”

“Relax, Matty,” you’d purred, flicking the cigarette to the ground, stepping on it with your bare heel. “It’s just for show.”

His nostrils flared and eyes widen. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

You grinned, grabbing the collar of his jersey, pulling him closer, right there in the middle of the school parking lot.

“And yet,” you whispered, just like you did now, “you’re still here.”

That was the moment you knew you had him. That no matter how reckless, how insane you became- he’d never walk away.

And low and behold here you were, six years later standing in his dorm room, still playing the same game and waiting for him to say something.

A moment passed before he took your hand off his chest, distancing himself from you. “I’m not fuckin’ doing this with you tonight.” He said lowly but with a firm tone.

“Come on,” you taunted, stepping closer, your eyes gleaming, voice dripping venom. “Where’s that temper, Matty? Huh? Where’s the Matt I know?” You seeth as you raise your hand up to grab his face.

Finally, Matt’s hands shot out, grabbing your wrists mid-lift, his grip tight.

His chest was heaving, his fingers wrapped tight around your wrists, his eyes…fuck, his eyes were dark, stormy, unreadable.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t turned on by his aggression.

“Behave.” he rasped, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine. “Get ready. We’re going out tonight with the group. And you better be on your best fucking behavior.”

Your breathing was erratic. Your wrists flexed under his grip, but he didn’t let go. And you loved it.

Because this was when he was real. When he felt real. When you could see past that quiet, indifferent mask he wore for everyone else and see the parts of you that had seeped into his subconscious after all these years.

But he wasn’t always like that. He didn't use to fight back. You remember the exact moment— the last time he ever just sat there and took it was last year's winter break.

You’d been drinking again, of course. Not even at a party. It was just the two of you, sitting in his car, parked on some abandoned road outside of town, the snow falling in slow, lazy flakes.

You were laughing, drunk and sprawled out in the passenger seat, your head lolling against the window.

Matt wasn’t laughing. He was gripping the steering wheel too tight, staring out at nothing, his expression unreadable.

“You’re so fucking dramatic,” you slurred, rolling your head to look at him.

He exhaled slowly, but it wasn’t a sigh—it was something else. Something tense.

“You don’t know when to stop,” he muttered.

You grinned. “That’s what makes me fun.”

“No, Y/N,” he said, voice clipped. “That’s what makes you exhausting.”

Something inside you twisted, your stomach knotting, your chest tightening in a way that made you angry.

“Then leave,” you snapped, shifting in your seat to glare at him. “If I’m so exhausting, fucking leave.”

Matt clenched his jaw, his grip on the wheel tightening.

You laughed, sharp and cruel. “Oh, right. You can’t.” You tilted your head, mocking. “Because you love me.”

His entire body tensed.

And then, quietly- so quietly you almost didn’t hear it- he whispered, “I know. That’s the problem.”

Your stomach dropped.

Everything in you went still.

For the first time, Matthew Sturniolo had hurt you. Not with his hands, not with his silence, but with his words.

Because for the first time, he had admitted that loving you wasn’t worth it anymore.

And for the first time, you were scared.

So you did what you always did. You fought.

You shoved at his shoulder, you screamed at him, you said the most vicious things you could think of. Things meant to cut, to wound. Because if you were going to hurt, then so was he.

And for the first time, Matt had just taken it.

Didn’t fight back. Didn’t argue. Didn’t even look at you. He just sat there. Quiet. Resigned.

And then he’d whispered, “I can’t do this forever, Y/N.”

That night, he didn’t chase after you when you stumbled out of the car, disappearing into the snow.

After that night in the snow, things changed.

Not in the way they should have. One of you should've walked away and finally let go before you burned each other to the ground. But no, that would’ve been healthy. That would’ve been right. Instead, things only got worse.

You should have known it would happen eventually.

Matt had spent years holding himself back, reining himself in, trying to be the calm to your storm, the balance to your insanity.

But everyone has a breaking point.

And when Matthew Sturniolo finally snapped, he did it in a way that made even you pause.

You’d been in his dorm again, a month after the fight in his car. You were pacing and ranting, your voice sharp and cutting as you threw accusations like knives.

“You were with her again, weren’t you?”

Matt sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor. “I wasn’t with anyone, Y/N.”

“Liar.”

He exhaled sharply, his hand raking through his hair.

You didn’t even know why you were mad—he hadn’t done anything. But the way he was acting since that fight made you insane.

“You think you can just sit there and ignore me?” you snapped, stepping closer, standing between his legs, forcing him to look at you. “You think I won’t fucking make you?”

Nothing.

So you shoved his shoulder, your hands shaking with frustration.

“Say something, damn it!”

Still nothing.

“Why do you always do this?!” Your pulse was erratic, your vision narrowing, your breath short and ragged. “Fucking fight me, Matty!”

And then his head snapped up.

His eyes, usually guarded, were blazing. His jaw, usually locked in restraint, twitched with barely contained rage.

You had provoked him to fight you many times before, but he never did. Not until that day.

“You want a fight?” he seethed, voice low and dangerous, stepping forward, grabbing your neck and pushed you hard until your back hit the wall. “Fine you sick bitch. Let’s fucking fight.”

Then he grabbed your wrists, hard, pinning them above your head.

Your breath hitched.

He had never put his hands on you before. Not like this. He had never touched you in a way that was completely and utterly out of anger.

“Is this what you want?” he growled, his breath fanning against your face, his grip so tight it hurt. “You want me to lose control? You want me to be just as fucked up as you?”

You looked up at him, breathless, eyes wild. “Yes.”

Matt let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his grip unfathomably tight. “You’re fucking sick.”

Ever since then, Matt hasn’t held back. He’d never actually hit you. He would never want to hurt you. But he’d put you in your place and wouldn’t be gentle about it.

He should have left. You both should have. But you never did.

Because in between the fights, the destruction, the insanity, there were moments. Sweet moments. Because when it wasn’t war, it was heaven.

Like the time you had shown up at his dorm at three in the morning, your mascara smudged, your hands shaking, your knuckles split from throwing a punch at a girl who had been running her mouth at a party.

You hadn’t even knocked, just pushed the door open and stood there, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you were about to collapse or explode.

Matt had just stared at you for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he had grabbed your hand, his fingers ghosting over your busted knuckles before pulling you inside.

He didn’t lecture you. Didn’t sigh in frustration or tell you to get your shit together.

He just cleaned you up, sat you down on his bed, took out his first-aid kit, and tended to your wounds with the kind of gentle touch that made your throat tighten.

You had watched him, your chest aching in a way that had nothing to do with pain.

“You’re not gonna ask what happened?” you had murmured.

He had shaken his head. “I don’t need to.”

And that was the thing about Matthew Sturniolo.

He never needed an explanation.

He just knew you.

Even when you were at your worst, your lowest, he still took care of you.

That night, he had let you stay, curling up beside you in bed, his arms wrapped tight around you, like he was holding you together.

You saw it in the little things.

The way his eyes softened when he watched you sleep. The way his fingers traced patterns on your back absentmindedly when you lay together, like he needed to be touching you.

The way he knew your favorite drink order without you ever telling him. The way he pulled you closer in his sleep, murmuring your name like a prayer.

The way he kissed your temple, your shoulder, your knuckles—soft, slow, reverent.

Like you weren’t just a storm he had been caught in. Like you were the only thing that had ever made him feel alive.

And to you, he was the same. He was the only person who knew you completely and loved you regardless.

It wasn’t the way he kissed you.Wasn’t the way he fought for you, defended you, ruined himself for you.

It was the way he stayed through everything.

Through the anger, the destruction, the insanity, he stayed.

And one night, after another fight, another round of screaming and pushing and war, you had broken down. Completely.

Sobbing, shaking, fists curled into his hoodie as you gasped out, “Why don’t you leave?”

And he had just held you. Had cupped your face, wiped your tears with his thumbs, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “Because I don’t know how to live without you.”

And that? That was the real problem. Because neither of you knew how to live without the other.

Matt was still breathing heavily, his eyes dark, his fingers twitching like he needed to do something—hit something, grab something, feel something.

And you?

You should have been afraid.

Because he wasn’t the same Matt from high school.

He was just like you now.

But instead of fear, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of right.

Like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

Like this was inevitable.

Because for all the destruction, for all the insanity-

There was love, too.

And that was why neither of you ever left.

Because at the end of the day, the chaos didn’t matter. The fights didn’t matter. The bruises, the screaming, the wreckage- none of it mattered.

Not when he looked at you like this.

Not when he still reached for you.

Not when you still let him.

Because love was supposed to be safe.

But with you two?

It never would be.

And neither of you would ever want it any other way.

And that’s why you’re in the bathroom right now, getting ready to go to the bar he told you to get ready for with his hand around your neck.

He barely looks at you when you step out of the bathroom, fixing your hair, smoothing down your shirt.

He’s still frustrated. You can feel it. The tension is there, the tightness in his shoulders, the sharp exhale through his nose as he runs a hand down his face. But he doesn’t say anything.

It’s supposed to be a normal night. Just drinks with friends, something light, something fun-for once.

And yet, you both know better.

Because normal never lasts long with you.

And it didn’t.

The bartender barely glances at Matt when he orders his drink, but when you ask for yours, he stops, leans forward, and gives you a once-over, his lips curling into something that makes your blood boil.

“Got ID?”

You blink, cocking your head. “What?”

The guy shrugs. “You look young.”

It’s not what he says. It’s how he says it. “You didn’t fucking card him?” You say, gesturing to Matt.

The bartender looks over at Matt. “He has tattoos and a beard. I’m not too worried. But you look young. So where’s the fuckin ID? There’s a line so hurry up or don’t have the drink.”

To you it felt like he’s not just checking your age—he’s testing you, like he doesn’t believe you belong here.

And Matt sees it before you even move.

The shift in your stance. The flicker of fire in your eyes. The way your fingers tighten around your glass.

“Y/N, don’t,” he murmurs beside you, already knowing.

But you never listen.

The drink in your hand flies first, splashing across the bartender’s face, dripping down his shirt. “You fucking crazy bitch!”

And that’s when the shove came-hard, sending him stumbling back into the shelves of liquor behind him.

Glasses shatter. Bottles crash to the floor. People gasp, turn, watch.

Matt is on you before you can do anything else. His hands wrap around your arms, yanking you back as the bartender recovers, already yelling, already calling for security.

“You’re out,” the bouncer says, barely giving you both a second to react before he’s waving Matt away, like he’s the handler and you’re the fucking problem.

Matt doesn’t fight him. He just hauls you outside, gripping you so tight you swear you can feel his pulse through his fingertips.

And you fight him too.

“Let me go!” you shriek, thrashing against his hold as he practically drags you down the sidewalk.

“Shut up,” he hisses, his fingers digging harder into your arms. “Do you ever fucking think?” He tugs you further down the street.

“You always do this,” Matt seethes, pacing, fists clenched, his jaw so tight it looks like he’s about to crack his teeth. “You push and push until something fucking breaks. That guy didn’t even do anything to you.”

“You’re really defending him?” you snap, pulling your arm away from him.

Matt exhales roughly, shoving his hands into his pockets, his whole body coiled with frustration. “I’m not defending him. I’m just saying you overreacted.”

You let out a sharp laugh, disbelieving. “Overreacted? He was a fucking asshole, Matt.”

“He asked for your ID.”

“No, he didn’t just ask for my ID. He looked me up and down like I was some high schooler trying to sneak into a club, and then-”

Matt cuts you off, shaking his head. “He was doing his job, Y/N. You’re the one who threw a drink in his face.”

Your hands curl into fists. “He called me a bitch.”

Matt groans loudly before yelling “Because you are one!”

That stops you cold.

Your entire body stills, a slow, sharp wave of silence settling between you.

Matt’s face drops immediately, like he knows that was the wrong thing to say, like he wants to take it back before it even settles in the air between you.

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Baby, I didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did,” you cut in, voice eerily calm now. Dangerous. “You meant every fucking word.”

Matt sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we not do this here?”

You open your mouth, ready to fire something venomous in return, but then—

A flicker of movement.

A slow-driving car.

Headlights flash across your face, illuminating both of you. A cop.

He’s patrolling the block, watching from a distance. Not interfering yet, but watching.

Matt sees him too. His shoulders square, his fingers twitch at his sides.

He knows where this is heading.

“You’re making a scene,” he mutters, voice lower now. A warning.

“So?” You tilt your head. “You embarrassed?”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” he growls, turning and stepping away, dragging both hands down his face like he’s physically stopping himself from making this worse.

That pisses you off.

You grab his hoodie, yanking him back toward you. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me.”

Matt whirls around, his jaw clenched. “Or what?” His voice rises, raw and frustrated. “What the fuck are you gonna do, huh?”

Your chest is heaving, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You don’t get to fucking leave me!”

Matt lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I don’t get to? Jesus, Y/N, you’re insane.”

And then—

Before you can stop yourself.

Before you can think.

Your hand flies.

The slap cracks through the street, sharp and brutal.

Matt stumbles back a step, his hands flying up instinctively, his shock evident in the split second before his expression darkens.

That is when the cop steps out of the car.

“Hey!”

His voice is firm, authoritative, his hand already resting on his belt as he approaches. “What’s going on here?”

Matt immediately recovers, lifting his hands, shaking his head. “Nothing, officer. We’re just—”

“You were yelling then she slapped you,” the cop interrupts, eyes flicking between the two of you, assessing.

Matt exhales hard, pressing his fingers to his temples. “It’s fine.”

You were still vibrating with adrenaline, with recklessness, with the need to prove a fucking point.

So when the cop steps closer, when he rests his hand a little too close to the gun in his holster-

Your eyes flick to it.

And before you can even process the thought, you move.

Your fingers grab the handle.

Not enough to pull.

Not enough to do anything.

But enough to be a mistake.

The cop doesn’t notice.

But Matt does.

And he fucking loses it.

“Y/N!”

He yanks you back so hard you slam into his chest, his arm locking around you tight.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” he roars, his voice so loud it drowns out the entire street.

The cop’s hand twitches toward his radio. “If you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to take you both to the station.”

“No! We’re fine, I promise.” Matt grips you tighter, shoving you behind him, his body a wall between you and the cop. “She’s just drunk.”

The cop hesitates. Scans Matt’s face. Looks for the lie.

Then, by some fucking miracle, he lets it go.

And when he drives off, when the flashing lights disappear down the street—

Matt turns to you, grabs your face in both hands, his fingers digging into your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands, his voice shaking.

You just grin, sharp and reckless.

Matt doesn’t say a word as he grabs your wrist and hauls you down the street, his grip iron-tight, his entire body vibrating with barely contained rage.

“Matt—”

“Shut up.” His voice is low, rough, a dangerous edge slicing through every syllable.

You barely keep up as he drags you toward campus, his pace relentless, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll try to run.

Not that you would.

You love this.

The way he’s unraveling. The way his control is snapping thread by thread.

By the time he shoves open the door to his dorm, the tension is suffocating.

And when he throws you inside, slamming the door shut behind him, you know you’ve fucking won.

Matt just stood across from you, fists clenched, his breathing ragged, his jaw so tight you could see the sharp cut of his features, almost like he was about to lose his fucking mind.

But now, staring at him, at the storm brewing behind his light eyes, you realized something.

He had already lost it.

“You don’t fucking think,” he finally muttered, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves.

You scoffed. “Here we fucking go.”

Matt’s eyes snapped to yours, furious. “You could have gotten arrested. You could have gotten shot, Y/N. Do you fucking understand that?*”

You rolled your eyes, taking a step closer, throwing your hands up. “Oh, please, I barely even touched the—”

Matt moved so fast you barely had time to react.

One second, you were standing there, and the next, he was in your face, his hand wrapping around your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he seethed, his fingers pressing into your skin. “This isn’t just another game, Y/N. That was stupid and you were acting like an attention whore.”

“I fucking hate you,” you whispered, your nails curling into the sleeves of his hoodie, your entire body thrumming with adrenaline.

Matt let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his fingers tightening around your jaw. “No, you don’t.”

Suddenly, his hands weren’t shoving you away- they were grabbing you, holding you in place, his breath hot against your face, his grip so tight around your neck it ached.

And god, some sick part of you felt relieved. Turned on, even.

So you reached down towards his crotch and slowly started to palm it, feeling his dick stir slightly.

Matt’s eyes flew down to where you touched him through his jeans and then back up at your face.

“God, are you seriously turned on right now?” he rasped, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine. “You’re sick in the fucking head. I’m not even surprised.”

Your breathing was erratic despite the restriction.

And you loved it.

“And yet,” you choked out, lips curling into something close to a smirk as you ran your fingernails so very gently over his semi hard dick. “you can’t stop, can you?”

Matt’s chest heaved, his eyes flickering with something dark, something desperate. “Shut the fuck up.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing the corner of his jaw, taunting. “Make me.”

And that? That was what finally fucking broke him.

His grip on your neck tightened, sure to bruise, as he pushed you back, your spine colliding against the wall, the breath knocked from your lungs. He took his hands off your neck, knocked your hand away from his crotch, and pinned your wrists against the wall.

But you didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to stop him. Because this wasn’t just anger. It was possession.

“You ruin everything,” Matt muttered, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath sharp, his fingers flexing around your wrists like he was still debating whether to shove you away or pull you closer.

“So fucking ruin me,” you taunted .

Matt dropped your wrists and yanked the collar of your hoodie, pulling you off the wall again and into him, his nose practically touching yours as his breathing came hard and fast.

Only a moment of eye contact passed before his mouth crashed against yours. And it was game over.

There was no hesitation, no doubt, no careful testing of boundaries—because there were none. There never had been. Not between you and Matt.

His hands were rough, grabbing your wrists so tight around your skin that you knew there would be bruises tomorrow.

You gasped into the kiss, but Matt didn’t give you a second to catch your breath. His tongue slid against yours, hot and desperate, demanding, like he was trying to claim you, ruin you, tear you apart from the inside out.

And maybe he was.

His teeth bit into your bottom lip, sharp enough to sting, and you whimpered, but not from pain—from need.

That sound must have done something to him because his grip on your wrists tightened even more, his body pressing flush against yours, completely trapping you between the wall and the overwhelming heat of him.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he growled against your lips, his voice so low and raw it sent a shiver down your spine.

Good,” you taunt, arching up against him, your breath ragged, daring him. “Maybe now you finally fucking get me.”

Matt laughs lowly, his hands already moving, already gripping, already taking. “I will never get you.”

Before you can snap back, before you can push him further, he moves.

His hands are grabbing the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over your head in one swift motion before tossing it somewhere behind him.

“Off,” he orders, his fingers already undoing the button of your jeans, forcing them down along with your underwear, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you fucking bare for me.”

Your pulse hammers, your body on fire under his touch, but Matt doesn’t give you time to process and he absolutely doesn’t ask again.

His hands slide under the fabric, gripping, pulling, stripping you down piece by piece.

And then he pulls back just slightly, just enough to look at your completely naked body, his eyes burning, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling hard.

“So perfect,” he mutters, mostly to himself, his fingers trailing over newly exposed skin.

But you don’t want him just looking.

With a sharp breath, you reach for him, your hands tugging at the fabric of his hoodie, trying to rip it off, but Matt grabs your wrists mid-motion, holding them down.

“You don’t get to fucking touch me until I say so,” he growls, his grip tight, his breath shaky with restraint.

You let out a frustrated sound, your body burning, but Matt just smirks before finally letting go, grabbing the back of his hoodie and ripping it off.

Your breath catches as he strips off the rest of his own clothes, leaving him completely naked.

And then he’s on you again, his body pressing hard against yours, his hands grabbing your thighs as he threw you onto the bed. You let out a sharp gasp as your back hit the mattress, barely able to process before he was on you, his weight pinning you down, his fingers wrapping around your throat.

And fuck, the pressure- It wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t teasing. It was dominance, raw and unfiltered, his grip so firm that it sent a rush of dizzying heat straight through your body.

Your hands flew up to grab his wrist, but not to stop him—to encourage him.

His grip tightened.

“Breathe for me,” he murmured, his other hand playing with and dragging over your peaked nipples. “Come on, let’s hear that big fucking mouth.”

Your head spun, vision tunneling slightly, your pulse thudding in your ears.

“Matt- ” your voice came out strangled, and the second he saw that dazed, needy look in your eyes, he grinned.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, leaning down, his lips brushing against your ear.

You couldn’t even answer- not with his hand cutting off your airflow, your entire body thrumming with fire.

But he knew.

He could see it.

And fuck, he loved it too.

His grip eased just enough to let you drag in one desperate breath, your nails digging into his arms.

And then he kisses you again before you could even catch your breath.

Because this wasn’t just about winning anymore.

It was about ruining each other completely.

And neither of you would ever stop.

His lips were everywhere, dragging over your jaw, down the column of your throat, over both your nipples, biting at the skin just beneath your ear, sharp enough to make you gasp.

Matt’s hand was still wrapped around your throat, keeping you pinned, keeping you helpless beneath him, but you wanted it. Needed it.

“You love this,” he muttered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice dripping with something almost mocking. “You love pushing me until I fucking snap, huh?”

You grinned, pushing yourself up to grind on his lower abdomen that was laying between your legs. “Why don’t you fuck me till I snap then.”

His eyes darkened, his grip tightening for just a second—just long enough to make your vision blur at the edges, make your body thrill from the sensation—before he let go completely, shoving your wrists down into the mattress instead.

“Fuck you?” Matt growled, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you down as his mouth crashed onto yours again.

The kiss was bruising—teeth clashing, tongues sliding, so fucking desperate it almost felt violent.

Your body arched, thighs reaching around and tightening around his waist, trying to pull him closer, take even more of him, but Matt wasn’t giving you any control.

“No,” he muttered, shoving your hands harder into the mattress, dragging his teeth over your lip as he pulled back. “You don’t get to fucking take right now. You’re gonna take what I give you.”

The words shot straight through you, sending a pulse of heat down your spine, making you wrap your thighs tightly around his waist and arch your back up, desperate to make contact.

But he didn’t move, even after feeling your wet cunt slide up the underside of his throbbing cock. Didn’t give you anything until you begged for it.

“Matt-”

“Say it,” he murmured, dragging his lips down your jaw, over the marks he had already left there. “Say you fucking need me.”

You let out a ragged breath, your entire body thrumming, still rocking against the underside of his erection. “I fucking hate you.”

Matt laughs. “No, you don’t.”

And then he flips you over. Roughly.

Your breath hitches as your stomach hits the mattress, your pulse hammering as his hands yank your hips back against him and you feel his cock between your thighs.

“This what you wanted?” he mutters, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck, his fingers digging into your waist. “Wanted me to fucking break for you?”

“You already did,” you shoot back, tilting your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Matt’s fingers flex, his grip tight—like he wants to control you, like he needs to, like he’s not just holding you down, he’s claiming you.

“Yeah?” he rasps, leaning in, dragging his teeth over your shoulder, biting down just hard enough to make you shudder. “Then let’s see how bad I can get.”

His hand moves before you can react—sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades, forcing you deeper into the mattress, pinning you there.

With your ass in the air and your back arched, his tip makes contact with your clit and you let out a whimper, attempting to sit up.

“Stay the fuck down,” he orders, shoving you back. “You want to be a fucking problem all the time? Deal with the consequences.”

You whimper again, your fingers gripping the sheets, but Matt doesn’t give you a second to process before his hand wraps around your throat from behind, tilting your head back just enough for his breath to skim over your ear.

“This is what you wanted, right?” His grip tightens for a split second- just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, to make your heart race so fast you swear he can feel it beneath his palm.

“Yes,” you gasp, voice breathy, strained, desperate.

Matt groans, his fingers digging into your skin, owning every inch of you. “So quit whining and take it like the good girl I know you can be for me.”

Your breath catches, your entire body thrumming with anticipation, but Matt—Matt is in no fucking rush. No, he’s taunting you.

He knows how bad you want it. Knows how wrecked you are beneath him. Knows that with every passing second, you’re finally the one breaking further under his touch.

And he’s loving every second of it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low, mocking, his fingers trailing over your hip, skimming the places you need him the most but refusing to give in just yet. “You act like you run this shit, but right now? You’re fucking helpless for me.”

Your fingers grip the sheets, your body arching, a whimper slipping from your lips again and Matt just grins.

“So fucking desperate,” he mutters, his teeth grazing your pulse, his hands spreading your thighs wider, his touch possessive, commanding. “You need me to take care of you that bad, huh?”

You nod, too breathless to speak, but Matt tuts, his fingers tightening on your hips. “Use your fucking words.”

“Yes,” you rasp, your nails biting into his arms. “Please, Matt-”

“That’s better,” he murmurs, his tone dark, dangerous, sending a sharp thrill through your spine.

With a single deliberate shift of his hips, he pushes his tip inside your soaked hole. But it was a slow, tormenting press forward- just enough to make you feel it, just enough to have your entire body tensing, your breath hitching in a sharp gasp but not enough to satisfy you.

“Fuck,” Matt groans, his head dropping, his fingers digging into your love handles like he’s trying to anchor himself. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your hands fly to his hips and ass behind you, trying to push him further into you, but Matt grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back again.

He breathes heavy behind you, his lips brushing against your ear. “You take what I fucking give you, remember?”

Your breath stutters, your entire body shaking beneath him. “Matt, please—”

“Fucking pathetic,” he mutters, his grip tightening, his tone laced with something cruel, something twistedly affectionate. “But you beg so fucking pretty for me.”

With one sharp, forceful movement, he fills you completely, pushing deep, claiming you in every way imaginable.

A strangled, shattered sound rips from your throat, your fingers clawing at his hands holding them, your entire body arching beneath him.

Matt groans lowly and the sound has you clenching around him already. “Fuuuckk, don’t do that,” he moans.

You simply smirk, trying to regain some control by clenching around him again and starting to move your hips back and forth on him.

The second he realizes that he’s subconsciously submitting to you, even with your hands pinned beneath him, he snaps back into reality.

Matt then manhandles you like you weigh nothing, shifting his grip, releasing your hands from behind your back and dragging his up and down your body.

Your breath stutters, your body thrumming with anticipation, every nerve on fire from the way he’s handling you.

But he still hasn’t moved yet.

“Matt-”

“Shut the fuck up,” he cuts you off, gripping your jaw, forcing you to turn your head to the side, to look at him. His eyes are wild, dark, unhinged. “You don’t get to fucking speak until I tell you to.”

Your lips part, a sharp inhale dragging through your lungs, your entire body burning from his words, his grip, his control.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he mutters and smirks because he knows.

He knows you’re gone.

He knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“See?” he mutters, gripping your jaw tighter, tilting your head back even more, making sure you feel his control. “You act so fucking tough, but all it takes is me putting you in your fucking place, and you’re already breaking for me.”

You let out a strangled noise, half a gasp, half a moan, but he just chuckles, low and cruel.

“You love this,” he continues, dragging his teeth over the shell of your ear and dropping his hand to your neck, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Love when I’m rough with you. Love when I don’t let you fucking breathe until I say so.”

His grip tightens on your throat for emphasis, cutting off just enough airflow to make your vision blur, to make your entire body thrill from the overwhelming sensation.

He watches the way your body trembles beneath him. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re powerless.”

Your nails dig into the sheets, your breath stuttering, your thighs shaking beneath his grip.

“Matt, please-”

“I didn’t fucking tell you to talk,” he growls, his free hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking it back, forcing your head to tilt, baring your throat to him.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips, your body arching, completely surrendering to his control.

Matt leans down again, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, dragging his tongue over the bruises he’s already left behind, making sure you feel every inch of his possession.

“You look so pretty when you’re powerless,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low, mocking, dangerous. “I should keep you like this all the fucking time.”*

Then, finally, he pulls out and with a sharp, forceful roll of his hips, he pushes himself back in. Your entire body shudders, your fingers clawing at the sheets.

“Fucking hell,” Matt groans, his grip on your neck dropping to your waist, his other hand tight in your hair, controlling every bit of your movement. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You let out a pornographic moan, your thighs trembling already. your breath was coming in sharp gasps, and Matt just laughs at you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, picking up his pace, his movements hard, deep, and so unrelenting. “I’ve barely even started.”

Your hands reach back for him, trying to grip something, trying to ground yourself, but Matt smacks them away. “No,” he breathes against your ear. “You don’t get to touch me until I say so.”

You whimper, your body burning, the desperation so overwhelming it’s almost unbearable. “Matt, please-”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, slamming his hips into you harder, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as you nearly poke a hole through the sheets with your nail from grabbing them so hard. “Take what I fucking give you.”

Your mind is spinning, your body completely wrecked, the pressure already building in your core with every sharp, relentless movement.

“Keep sucking me in like that baby- fuck.” Matt mutters, dragging his lips down your spine as he keeps pushing into you, his hands gripping your hips so tight you know you’ll feel it tomorrow.

Your body shudders at his words, at the way he’s handling you, at the way he controls every inch of you like he owns it. Your fingers are trembling as they grip the sheets, your breath ragged, your mind and body so fucked out from how deep he’s pushing into you that you can barely process anything else.

But Matt is hasn’t faltered. Not even slightly. His pace is punishing, his rhythm sharp, precise, every movement designed to break you down, to make sure you feel everything, to make sure you remember who’s in control here.

“You’re so quiet now,” he taunts, voice dark, mocking, his fingers trailing down your spine, pressing into the curve of your back, forcing you deeper into the mattress. “Where’s all that fucking attitude, huh?”

You whimper, your thighs shaking beneath his grip, and Matt grins, knowing. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

His hand snakes up into your hair again, yanking your head back just enough to make you gasp, to make your entire body arch beneath him.

His hips snapping against yours with perfect precision and your breath catches, the pleasure building, your body screaming for release, but Matt just laughs.

“You’re not fucking coming yet,” he mutters, shoving your head into the mattress. “Not until I fucking say so.”

You whimper, completely wrecked, completely his, and Matt knows it.

He groans, his rhythm stuttering just slightly, his fingers digging into your hips as his own pleasure builds. “You wanted me to ruin you? Then fucking break for me.”

You moan, your breath ragged, your entire body trembling from the intensity of it all. You can barely think, barely breathe, barely hold on as Matts ruts into you, his movements rough, dominant, and utterly consuming.

“I can feel you- fuck. I can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart.” he growls and his voice is slightly whinny. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

He hits the perfect spot, over and over, until your entire body shatters. Your back arches, your nails dig into the sheets, a strangled, wrecked moan ripping from your throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, so overwhelming it’s blinding, so intense it leaves you breathless.

“Fuuuuucccckkk” Matt moans, his voice raspy and his body starts shaking behind as he loses it right after you.

Matt’s head drops onto your shoulder, his breath ragged, his entire body tensing as he finally lets go, pleasure ripping through him in sharp, uncontrollable pulses. His grip on your hips is bruising, his fingers digging in as he twitches inside you, his body shaking behind you.

A strangled whimper leaves his lips as the aftershocks hit him, his muscles tensing, his rhythm faltering, his body jerking slightly from the overstimulation. “Fuck,” he mutters, his voice wrecked, shaky, his forehead pressing into the curve of your neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You can feel the way he’s struggling- the way his body trembles, how his fingers clench involuntarily against your waist, like he’s trying to hold onto something solid as the sensation wrecks him.

“Matt-” you breathe, but before you can say anything else, he lets out a low, pained groan and pulls out, his body jerking at the loss of contact.

He collapses beside you, his eyes are half-lidded, his hair messy, his lips still parted from breathless gasps.

For a moment, neither of you say anything—just the sound of heavy breathing filling the room, your bodies still entwined, his hands still possessive on your skin, his lips still brushing against your shoulder.

And then, after a long, heavy pause Matt laughs.

Low, dark, satisfied.

And you?

You just grin, breathless, wrecked, completely ruined-

Because finally, finally, Matt Sturniolo is just as fucked up as you.

MASTERLIST

for my beloved: @mattsobvimyfav 💙

[damnelves]

DOOMED. DOOMED. DOOMED.

Aeschylus, The Oresteia / Disco Elysium / Introduction to her translation of the Iliad by Emily Wilson / The Three Fates (detail), painting by Alexander Rothaug / Lives of the Saints by Charles Wright / The Lover by Marguerite Duras / / 6 ways to draw a circle by tumblr user filmnoirsbian / The Sweater by Gregory Orr / DOOMED TO REPEAT by Johnny Dombrowski / Revenge of the Sith (novelization) by Matthew Stover / "Goner" Google Result / Lake Mungo, dir. Joel Anderson / "Scriptum" from the Red Thread Series by Rima Day / War of the Foxes by Richard Siken / Prophetic perfect tense, Wikipedia / Text post by tumblr user monstermoviedean / October by Louise Glück / Planet of Love by Richard Siken / State of Siege by Mahmoud Darwish / Cycle of Doom, source unknown / Supernatural S05E04, The End / Road to Hell, Hadestown / Watchmen, Alan Moore / Wolf in White Van by John Darnielle

[givekennyabreak]

You got a friend in me. (Platonic!Victor Kavanaugh x gn!reader)

Summary: Victor had no one to count on, but then - you arrived in town.

Word count: 1.39k (oops again)

Request: "Fantastic! Okay, in that case: maybe something with a twentysomething female reader (maybe someone who’s been there for a while with him to look out for her/vice-versa). I don’t really have any specific prompt in mind, but I do remember that when I saw the scene where Julie calls out Jade for the way he speaks to Jim for the first time, I immediately thought “I’d love to see something like that, but with someone standing up for Victor.” I dunno—it’d just be nice to see someone really caring about him. Most of the others all have their little pockets of found family, and he’s pretty much by himself."

Rating: T

Warnings: canon compliant cursing, mentions of death, spoilers from s1 and s2 (up to episode 3), jade calls reader "mama bear" but there's no use of pronouns or anything defining gender, 2nd person pov ig

Note: I ended up making this gender neutral without noticing lmaooo, this gif of victor is everything. give my dude a break pls

Victor was your friend.

Ever since you got in this nightmare-like town, in your mid-twenties, fresh outta university, after a trip to a new city with better job offers in your area of study, Victor has been a breath of fresh air.

Everyone had a role in town – be it to feed everyone, like Tian-Chen, or be a leader like Boyd and Donna (in Colony House, at least); everyone had a little part to play, usually worrying about whether you’d get home safely before nightfall, or if the crops were healthy, if the animals were fed.

But Victor didn’t.

He did worry, but his brain wasn’t the same as everyone else’s; he stayed alone for far too long, way too young – call it a self-defense mechanism, but his mind stayed in a perpetual child-like state, as innocent as possible in a place like this personal hell. He had a good heart, was a little awkward (again, stayed alone for too long. That’s understandable) and cared about his friends, even though they were few – you, Fatima and Ethan included.

So new people tended to look at him a little weird.

Jim Matthews was one of them, but he quickly noticed Victor wasn’t a bad person.

(You had just eaten a couple of fluffy pancakes, sitting at the counter of the diner; Victor came in and started talking to the kid who arrived with the new family. It was nice seeing him make more friends, even if it was a kid – they had similar ways of thinking, anyway.

Then, his dad stormed out of the bathroom, nearly shouting at Victor; rightfully so, it was understandable he’d find it weird an unknown middle-aged man sitting and talking to his son, but this – it was too much. You stood up, walking up to the commotion; Jim was red in the face, threatening Victor.

“You don't come near him. You don't talk to him. Do you understand me? Stay the fuck away from him.”

“Hey.” You interrupted, staying beside Victor. “Hi. I know you’re new here and all, but you don’t know us, any of us. So maybe don’t be too quick to judge others based on what you know – which is nothing.”

You smiled down at the kid, who looked so fucking lost.

“Victor is a good person, and I’m pretty sure your dad is too, right?” You looked back up at the man, who had become silent. “Set a good example for your kid – don’t threaten people.”

Jim scowled. “Come on, time to go.”)

It was good to see his development (even though it was minimal).

And then, Victor didn’t come home. And that other new guy invaded his room while you were in town – this batch of newbies wasn’t so great -, ignoring Ethan’s pleading (which he told you about later that day, cheeks red with anger. He is a good kid.), so the next morning you went down the road towards the place he was staying at.

And saw Victor right outside his door.

Relief flooded your mind and body at that; he was alive, of course he was – he was smart, he figured out a way. As you got near the house, you could hear their conversation; Jade sighed out a breath, somehow also relieved.

“Oh, you're back. Holy shit. This is great. This is great.”

“That's mine.” Victor pointed at the violin, reaching out to the wooden instrument. “Give it back to me.”

 “Yeah. Uh...”

“Give it back to me.”

“I'm sorry, alright.”

“Give it back to me.”

Jade looked down at it, blinking.  “I was just thinking I could just play it for a little bit...”

“Give it back to me!” He shouted, startling the younger man.

“Okay! Alright. Calm down, man. Here.”

The violin was handed back to Victor, who turned around on the porch. “That's my room! You don't go in my room!” He shouted and walked away, leaving a baffled Jade on the doorway. You stood still, waiting for him to come up the dirt road.

“Okay. Wait! Oh, hold on. Hey!” Jade ran out of the house, flipping through the pages on the notebook. “Slow down! I'm sorry, Okay? I shouldn't have gone in your room. I thought you were fucking dead. I've been looking everywhere for you.” He ranted.

“There's this symbol that I keep seeing. I mean, I keep seeing things that aren't actually there, but every time I do, there's this symbol, and there's this book that Kenny's mom gave me. Some guy kept drawing the same symbol and there's a picture- would you please just fucking stop!” Jade shouted, and Victor stopped in his tracks, hesitant.

 “Look at this. Look at this.” Jade displayed the drawing in the little notebook. “There's gotta be a reason I'm seeing this everywhere.”

He held up a polaroid. “This guy. He must've been seeing it too. Right? And look, right there. Right in the back.” His index finger pointed at a small boy in the back of the picture, right in front of the diner. “That's you, right? Maybe in some fucked-up way, this could be the key to getting the hell out of here. I mean, Jesus, all this time. Don't you wanna go home?”

Your heart squeezed at his words - that wasn’t fair.

Victor frowned. “You shouldn't have touched this. It's not yours. Stay away from me!”

“Well, fuck you too! Wait, uh... Fuck.”

Your friend walked right past you, still frowning, and you let him go back to colony house – you’d have the whole afternoon and night to talk with him. Right now, your attention was settled on the curly-haired man a few meters away from you, wide-eyed as he noticed your form approaching.

“Oh fuck, it's mama bear- wait-”

“Do you have any fucking idea,” You walked up to him, poking him on the chest – he walked back a few steps, wincing. “how long he stayed here? Alone, scared, as a fucking kid?”

“I’m-”

You interrupted him again. “No, you don’t. You DON’T. Because we all got to grow up in a world that isn’t so much as a sliver of the shit we see here. We want to go home, I want to go home, but this place is ALL he got to know. As heartbreaking as it is,” You closed your hands into fists, jaw set so tight your teeth might snap. “this is the home he knows. This is what he knows as normal.”

Jade went silent. He didn’t think about it this way – it didn’t even cross his mind.

“So think hard before you talk to him again.” You turned around, brows furrowed. “And fucking apologize, you asshole.”

 When you got home, the first thing you did was go up to Victor’s room; you knocked on the door, four slow raps so he’d know it was you. And so, slowly, the door opened, and you invited yourself in.

Victor sat on his bed, head hanging low and violin on his desk.

“Hey, bud.” You sat down beside him, and he threw his arms around your shoulders almost instantly. Your own arms circled his chest, and your head placed itself on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay. I got really worried.”

“’m sorry. It took me a while.” He mumbled, cheek resting on your head.

“I know. It’s not your fault, I’m really happy you’re back in one piece.” You said, patting his back the way you knew would calm him down. “And don’t mind what Jade said, okay? He’s stupid.”

Victor nodded. “Yes, he makes me angry.”

“He makes most of us angry, don’t worry.” You finally let go of him, and he drew back from the hug as well; he looked tired. “I know what’s going to make us feel better.”

You stood up, pointing at your own room. “I’m gonna get some blankets.”

He brightened up. “Blanket fort?”

You nodded your head in affirmation. “Blanket fort.”

He smiled. “I’ll help.”

Victor was a good friend.

Sometimes he made you worry; most newbies looked at him weird, some people didn’t like him – but he was your friend, he was your little found family in this nightmare town.

And, even if you never got out of here, it was okay – because you had a good friend by your side, and Victor would never let you down.

[1-jar-of-stars]

The Stages of the Umbrella Academy.

homer, the iliad / Road to Hell, Hadestown Original Broadway Cast / Alan Moore, Watchmen / Disco Elysium / Matthew Stover, Star Wars Revenge of the Sith

[judyvan]

Dirty Laundry (Payback) - A Sturniolo Fanfic

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Summary: Matt takes you out on a date. Can you focus on the payback plan and put your feelings for Matt to the side?

Warnings: MDNI/ smut/ mattxfem!reader/ pnv/ slight choking/ toxic intentions/ getting payback/ fluff/ pet names (pretty boy, baby)/ multiple part series/ use of "you"

A/N: This is part 3 of my series, "Dirty Laundry." For context, click here to find parts 1 and 2. Interactions are appreciated. Pls don't steal my shit. Thx!💋

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“What the fuck are we doing?” you think to yourself as you pull on a jacket. Matt said the date was a surprise, but he also told you to dress “outdoorsy”…whatever the hell that meant. There was no denying the slight sense of excitement that bubbled in your chest when he told you this date was a secret. Although you knew it was totally because you were going to see Matt, you wanted to convince yourself that it was because you were no longer going to see Matt after tonight. Tonight was it. You needed to find a way to get Matt alone and follow through with the plan before you fell in deeper than you wanted to. The whole point of this was to get back at your ex, not to fall for his brother.

[Matthew Sturniolo]

I think I’m here.

[You]

I’m walking outside now! Do you see me?

Matt honks the horn lightheartedly and your eyes fall on his car. As you approach the vehicle, Matt hops out of the car to open your door.

"You look really good," Matt says, a smiling spreading across his face as he shuts your door and makes his way to the driver's side.

As much as you hate it, you can feel your face grow hot.

"Don't fucking blush at that! What're you doing?!?" you think to yourself, pulling down the passenger mirror to make sure the flush isn't too noticeable. You look over at Matt as he buckles his seatbelt. He's wearing a white t-shirt, a nice pair of pants, and a hat embroidered with flowers.

"You don't look too bad yourself," you say.

Matt tries to hold back his smile, but he fails. He puts the car in drive and starts to move away from your house. The two of you talk and listen to music as he drives. Suddenly, you remember that you don't even know where you're going.

"So, where are you taking me?"

"We are going on a hike," he says shooting you a look.

We are going on a fucking hike for a "first date?!" Great! His brother is a fuckboy, and he is a serial killer.

"A hike," you say confused. "Are you going to kidnap me or something?" you chuckle.

Matt lets out a soft laugh.

"No, I'm not going to kidnap you. I want to take you to a special spot."

"As long as it's not a pre-dug grave, I'm down," you say with a laugh.

Matt smiles at you before returning his eyes to the road. Why is he so hot...ugh? If he keeps looking at me like that I'm going to...

"We're here," Matt says pulling you out of your thoughts.

He pulls into the parking lot and exits the car. After helping you out of the vehicle, he looks down at you.

"Are you ready?" he asks as a huge smile consumes his face.

You take off his hat and place it on his head backwards.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," you say, taking Matt's face in your hands.

His smile makes your heart race. Suddenly, your feels his hands snake around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, rubbing his thumb on your lower back.

"I'd be upset if you didn't," you reply with a smirk, pulling his face even closer to yours.

Matt's lips meet yours as he kisses you gently. Although his lips are sweet and warm, the soft kiss sends a jolt throughout your entire body. He pulls away from you and places a gentle peck to your forehead.

"Let's get going," he says, taking your hand in his as he starts to lead you down the trail. The two of you walked with your hands intertwined. Matt leads the way as you take in the scenery. Everything is so beautiful.

"How did you know that I like hiking?"

Matt looks at you and lets out a small chuckle.

"I didn't."

You look at Matt, taking in the sight of him. His lips, his hair, his perfectly tattooed arm, his hand intertwined with yours. You reach for your phone.

"Well, I hope you know that I like taking pictures too," you say with a laugh. You take a quick photo of Matt before quickly putting your phone back in your pocket.

"Let me see the picture," Matt laughs.

"I'll show you later, I promise."

"I'm going to hold you to that. We are almost to the spot. We've got to take this path right here," Matt says, leading the way.

He takes you down a connecting trail, revealing a lot more greenery. You can hear the sound of water, but there are only trees in sight. You pull out your phone and start to take even more pictures. You and Matt continue to talk as you walk through the trail, when a few short trees reveal a waterfall.

"MATT, LOOK!" you say pointing excitedly. You quickly turn your phone and start to snap a bunch of photos of the waterfall. Matt chuckles at your excitement.

"I know. Pretty cool, huh?"

"It so prettyyyyughhhh," you respond looking at Matt.

Matt's hand leaves yours as he wraps it around your back, kissing the top of your head softly.

"I know, I know, but we've gotta keep walking. We are almost there. I promise you'll be able to see it again, the trees break more up ahead."

You nod and continue to walk, Matt's hand resting on your lower back. After walking and talking for a few more minutes, Matt stops you. He grabs your hands and looks in your eyes.

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

"Uhhh, not really. I don't know you super well yet. Why?"

Matt chuckles at your response.

"Because this is a surprise, so I need to cover your eyes."

See...a serial killer.

"Do whatever you have to do," you laugh, "Just please don't hurt me."

You hear Matt laugh as he places his hands over your eyes. His voice guides you, making sure you don't run into anything. You start to feel Matt slow down.

"Are we here?" you ask.

"Mhm," Matt says taking his hands away from your eyes.

After blinking a few times and readjusting to the light, you see the waterfall. It looks 10 times bigger now that you are standing in the grassy area directly next to it. You look down at your feet and see a huge blanket covered in picnic supplies.

"MATT! What the fuck?!" you shriek excitedly, turning to hug him.

Matt laughs, pulling you into his body.

"Do you like it?" he asks.

"I love it!"

That was the problem. He was too hard to not like. At this point, you wish he would've just killed you.

You squeeze Matt hard, taking in his comforting scent before pulling away from him. The both of you sit down on the blanket as your date officially begins. The two of you talk and laugh while enjoying your picnic. You pull out your phone and start to take even more photos.

"Can I see the one you took of me earlier?" Matt asks, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'll show you later," you say.

"Like when I drop you off later orr?"

"Matt, I want you to stay at my house tonight. What do you think?" you ask, searching for a way to get Matt alone.

He smiles at you as he thinks.

"I'll stay with you tonight, but only because I want to see that photo," Matt says with a smirk on his face.

As the two of you finish up the picnic, you stand up and dust yourself off. That's when you feel a vibration in your pocket. You pull out your phone, noticing you have an Instagram notification.

[Christopher Sturniolo]

Can we please talk?

I miss you.

Come pick me up tonight, please.

Without even thinking, you block the account.

"Do you need some help," you ask Matt.

"No, I've got it," Matt responds, throwing everything back into the basket that it came out of.

He picks up the basket and grabs your hand. He leads you back down the trail to the parking lot. The two of you find the car and pack up. Matt helps you into the car before getting in himself. As he starts to drive off you can feel him looking at you.

“What?” you say, smiling against your will.

“Did you have a good time? Are you going to let me take you out again?” he asks.

“You aren’t very good at taking hints, are you? I literally asked you to stay the night at my house tonight.”

You can see Matt lick his lips before his attention falls back on the road.

“Oh, I’m very good at taking hints. I just want to make sure we are on the same page, and I don’t get my hopes up after tonight,” he says.

“Yes, Matt. I plan on sticking around if you do,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat created by the lie that just came out of your mouth.

“Good. I really like you,” he says placing his hand on your thigh.

“I really like you too,” you say, placing your hand over top of his.

Eventually, Matt arrives at your house. He gets out of the car first to open your door. He takes your hand in his as he walks you to your front door.

"I'm going to take a quick shower and then I'll text you when you can come over," you say, taking his face in your hands.

"I'm going to shower too but trust me I'll be waiting for that text."

The both of you laugh and you quickly press your lips to his. Almost as quickly as you start the kiss, you pull away. Matt attempts to pull you back in obviously wanting more.

"Not too fast, pretty boy. You'll get plenty of that later."

Matt chuckles and places a small peck to your forehead.

"That shower better be quick," he says as he walks back towards his car.

You smile at his words and walk inside, immediately making your way to the bathroom.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

After finishing your "everything shower," you immediately messaged Matt, wanting him to come over as quickly as possible. You want to spend as much time with him as you can, considering tonight may be the last night that you see him. You're setting up your room for a movie night when you get a text from Matt.

[Matthew Sturniolo]

I'm here.

You walk to the front door, flinging it open before Matt can even knock. You grab him by his shirt, pulling him towards your body.

"Get in here," you say playfully, pressing your mouth against his as soon as he enters your house. For a mouth that you just met today, you really did miss it a lot.

You give Matt a tour of your house, saving your room for last.

"I hope you like watching movies," you say nodding your head towards the bowl of popcorn on your nightstand.

"I love movies," he says, sitting his backpack on your floor.

You lead him towards your bed, both of you getting comfortable immediately. Matt pulls you into his body and the two of you agree on a movie. As the movie goes on, you share the popcorn, talk, and admire each other, kissing occasionally. Being here with Matt just felt so right and his body pressed against yours started to make your heart race.

"Do you want any more popcorn?" you ask him.

Matt shakes his head with a smile. You set the popcorn back on your nightstand, freeing up your hands so that you can roam Matt's body. You immediately put your hand on his chest as you place your lips against his. As you deepen the kiss, you swing your leg over his. Matt smiles against your lips before slipping his tongue in your mouth. You move your hand down to his lower stomach, slipping your fingers into his waistband. Suddenly, you start to feel pressure against your thigh. You look up at Matt with a chuckle.

"Is that your phone or are you just happy to see me?" you ask sarcastically.

Matt's cheeks start to flush. He clears his throat and ignores your question.

"Speaking of phones, can you show me those photos you took now?" he asks, desperately trying to change the subject.

"Of course," you say, laughing at Matt's demeanor.

You instantly pull out your phone and click on your 'Photos' app. You scroll to the photo of Matt and hold it up to him excitedly.

"Loooook," you say with a big smile, "You're so handsome. I could literally die."

Matt laughs, kissing your hair as a thank you. You scroll through the next few photos that you captured on your hike, when you land on the waterfall photos. You feel giddy inside as you look up at Matt. Why did he have to be so perfect and take you on the best first date possible. Just being in his presence was enough to turn you on.

"Look at how pretty the waterfall was, Matt," you say, pushing your phone closer to his face.

Matt starts to laugh to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. I was about to say something really cringey," he says continuing to laugh.

"Well, let's hear it then," you say with a smirk.

"I was going to say that the waterfall was probably the second prettiest thing that I saw today," Matt says winking at you playfully.

"Can I say something cringey too?"

Matt nods his head, rubbing small circles on your thigh with his thumb and placing a gentle kiss on your neck.

"That waterfall will also be the second wettest thing that you've seen all day if you keep talking to me like that."

You can feel Matt smirk against your skin before his eyes land on yours. You smile at him before you begin to pepper kisses against his jawline. You straddle Matt as you lean your face towards his. He takes your ass in his hands as he kisses you passionately. A small moan escapes your lips from the taste of his mouth. You grind against the now obvious bulge in his pants as you kiss him more desperately. Matt rolls you over, placing his body between your legs, never breaking the kiss.

"I need to be on top. If this is the only time I have to get with Matt, I'm going to at least make sure it's good," you think to yourself.

Matt's lips disconnect with yours and meet your neck. His tongue dancing across your skin forces your hips to buck up towards his, searching for friction.

"Take off your pants," you whisper into Matt's ear.

At your command, Matt props himself up on his knees as he starts to pull down his sweatpants. You sit up yourself, pulling off your shirt before you grab Matt by the shoulders, rolling him over. You begin to kiss down Matt's body, grabbing for the bottom of his shirt. Matt lifts up slightly and you pull his shirt off. He then loops his fingers in your waistband, slipping your shorts off, leaving you both in you under clothes.

"I need to get a condom from my bag," Matt says out of breath as you begin to suck hickeys along his collarbone.

"No need," you say, leaning over to grab one from the top drawer of your nightstand, placing the package in between Matt's teeth.

He smiles as he reaches up to unclasp your bra and throws it on the floor. He then pulls you flesh against his chest before placing you on your back once again. Shit. He gently pulls your underwear down and tosses them with your bra. Matt begins to reach for the waistband of his own underwear before you roll him onto his back and mounting him once again. The two of you were just tossing each other back and forth at this point.

"I'll get these, and you open that," you say, sliding his boxers down and flicking your eyes to the condom in his mouth.

Matt pulls the protection out of his mouth and lets out a small chuckle as he tears the package open.

"What're you doing?" he giggles, as he pulls the condom out of its package.

"I'm sorry, did you want me to..."

"No, not about this," Matt interrupts you, "Why won't you let me be on top?"

"It's just, umm," you start.

"It's okay. I don't mind. I'm just curious," Matt says, pulling the condom onto himself.

"I can't finish unless I'm on top."

"Who told you that?" Matt asks with a small laugh.

"Nobody. Just from experience."

"Well, that certainly isn't true. Whoever was fucking you just wasn't doing it right," Matt says with a shit eating grin on his face.

"It was your fucking brother," you want to scream out badly.

"Let me prove it to you," Matt says, rolling you over onto your back for the last time, "I want to see your pretty face."

Matt leans down and kisses you roughly. You nod your head, letting him know it's okay.

"Are you ready?" he asks, lining himself up with your entrance.

"Yes, Matt. Please," you say, quickly looking down at Matt's size. He's bigger than Chris.

Matt starts to push himself into you, both of you letting out a gasp. He stretched you out in the best way possible. After giving you a moment to adjust to his size, he starts to pump himself inside of you. Matt lets out a low groan at the feeling of you taking him in.

"Holy fuck," you moan.

Almost immediately, Matt locates your g-spot and begins to slam himself into it repeatedly. Your back arches off the bed and your sounds of pleasure begin to fill the room. You claw at Matt's back, needing more of him.

"FUCK, MATT! Right there."

Your hands leave his back and fall on the bed. Matt quickly takes one of your hands in his and squeezes it gently as he starts to pound himself into you hard and fast.

"That good?" Matt whispers against your ear.

You shriek in response, the feeling of pleasure consuming you. Matt wraps his hand around your throat and kisses the side of your jaw sweetly as he fucks you rough.

"You okay, baby?" he asks through his low moans.

"Oh my God, Matt! Don't stop!"

"Fuck! I'm so close," Matt groans, taking his hand off of your throat and placing it on your clit, rubbing fast circles.

"I'm gonna... Fuck!" you scream as your orgasm hits you hard.

Matt comes at the same time as you. He continues to fuck himself into you as you both ride out your highs. That was the best you had ever felt. Matt pulls out of you and kisses your face gently. He removes the condom and easily pulls you into his chest. He runs his hand over your hair, softly rubbing your back.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm fucking great, Matt," you say, kissing his chest.

"How do you feel?"

"That was amazing," you say caressing his arm.

"I'm happy I made you feel good," he says kissing your lips lightly, "Do you want me to go start a bath?"

"No need. I don't think I'm done for the night," you say with a playful smirk.

"Before we get too ahead of ourselves, I need to ask you a question," Matt chuckles.

"Go ahead."

"Would you want to meet my brothers sometime? I really, really like you and I want you to meet them, especially if we are going to be seeing each other for a while."

You think to yourself for a moment. Matt is really great. Greater than you pictured. Sure, you only started things with him to piss Chris off, but you couldn't care less about Chris anymore. Why break things off with Matt if Matt is what you deserve. He is everything you've ever wanted and makes up for all of the areas that Chris was lacking in. If anything, Chris seeing you with Matt in person would make him angrier than kissing and telling. Fuck this payback plan.

"Yes, Matt. I'd love to," you say, a large smile plastered across your face.

If you would like to join or be removed from my tag list at any point in time, feel free to let me know! 💋

Taglist: @welovestromboli @2prcntmilkluvr @stvrnzwrld @wh0remikasas @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @chrislovespepsi @leovaldezluvr @maggiie @edwardscoldhands

Come back for part 4 to see how Chris reacts to you being with Matt!

[ladykailitha]

Share with Me One Love, One Lifetime Part 4

Yay!! We are about half way there. Because yes, this story will end at eight chapters and I'm so happy to see it end. It's been a long hard road for this series and I'm grateful for all the friends I made since starting out on this journey.

But I'm not the same person who started writing a story to fill a void in the fandom to someone who has written almost a million words in the Stranger Things fandom.

So thank you!

In this chapter we have all the fun Lovers' Lake stuff and a little breakdown from Steve as a treat.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Cal,” Wayne snapped. “There was no way in hell that Eddie levitated Patrick ten feet in the air, snapped his bones and then did nothing to other two? If my boy could do magic, there are more than a few people in this town who would be dead by now and not three kids he didn’t have any connection to.”

“Wayne...” Powell huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Think of what is at stake here! All those young lives snuffed out. Someone has to be punished for it.”

“And you’re not railroading Eddie to do it,” Wayne said gruffly. “Just because he’s a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks doesn’t make him responsible for their deaths!”

“And you’re saying that Victor Creel is?” Powell said slamming his hands on the table. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“It’s either him or his dead kid,” he said. “Which one do you think is crazier?”

Powell let out a long sigh. “Let’s say we entertained a connection between the two cases. Then it is way more likely to be a copy cat then Victor or Henry Creel.”

“If you’re saying Eddie is practicing evil magic based on a table top game,” he said with a sneer, sitting back in his chair, “then you’ll have to arrest Jacob Matthews, Kenny Martin, and Lonnie Byers because they all played Tactics growing up.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Powell said crossly, “as this Dungeons and Dragons the kids are playing now days.”

“One is playing with armies in fictional battles,” Wayne said, “and the other is playing a small band of heroes to battle evil in fictional setting. I really don’t see the difference. Jake liked being Germany, and I’d say that if far more egregious then playing a thief or rogue whatever they call it.”

Powell licked his lips slowly. “I’m not going to convince you to help us bring Eddie in am I?”

“No,” Wayne said, raising to his feet. “And you try to pin this on him, then you’re more than a coward then I thought you were. There is something evil and rotten in this town, no doubt about it. Hop knew and it’s time you got on board while you can still protect this town.”

Then he strolled out the door.

~

“I concur,” Eddie said leaping from the top of Skull Rock, deftly in front of everyone, “Dustin Henderson, that you are a total butthead!”

“Eddie!” Dustin cried and ran over to hug him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said as he gave hugs to Steve and Wayne, too. “This old man has taught more than a thing or two on how to survive in the wild. I was able to swim back to the house and change my clothes and grab my bag.”

Wayne nodded. “Damn right I did,” he groused. “It’s a good thing too, because when I saw you pinwheel head first into the water, I thought I’d lost ya for good.” He hugged Eddie, too.

Steve hung back, breathing heavily, trying to look everywhere but where Eddie was receiving the worried assurances from Dustin and Wayne.

Eddie leaned his head down to get a better look at his boyfriend. “Hey, Stevie...I’m okay. See?” He held out his arms and turned around, showing that he wasn’t hurt in any way. “I’m okay, baby.”

Suddenly he had an armful of Steve Harrington. A sobbing Steve Harrington, who gripped the back of his jacket in a white knuckle grip.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured gently. “I’m okay.”

“I should have moved you to my place,” Steve whispered harshly. “You would have been safe. You would have been safe!”

Eddie rubbed Steve’s back and made soothing noises. “You don’t know that for sure. But I’m safe now. Okay? Why don’t you guys tell me everything you learned at the Creel House?”

Steve nodded and moved to take a step back, but Eddie held on tight. “I didn’t say you had to let go, Stevie.”

Steve slumped against his boyfriend and they both settled against the base of Skull Rock.

“You say all the light bulbs in your flashlights exploded?” Eddie muttered darkly. “Do you know when that was?”

Nancy and Robin looked at each other. “There was a huge grandfather clock that was somehow still working, so yeah we’ve got a pretty good idea when it was,” Nancy said.

Eddie worked his watch off his wrist and tossed it at her. “That stopped when I hit the water, shortly after Patrick died.”

Nancy looked down at the watch again and her eyes widened.

“It’s the same time, isn’t it?” Dustin asked. “The surge of power we felt in the house was the same power that killed Patrick.”

“Wait, wait hold up!” Lucas said waving his hands. “Dustin’s compass wasn’t wrong. It was acting up.”

Dustin stared over at him in shock. “Oh. Fuck.” He turned back to Eddie and Wayne. “The only reason compasses act up like that is in the presence of a Gate to the Upside Down.”

“You have got to be shittin’ me,” Wayne growled. “You think there is one of these holes in the universe nearby?”

Lucas nodded. Wayne threw his arms in the air and proceeded to let loose a slew of curse words that left Dustin mildly impressed.

“Well what are we standing around gawking for?” he growled and whirled Dustin the direction the compass had tried to direct them on their way here.

Steve and Eddie leapt to their feet and quickly gathered all of Eddie’s stuff, to follow close behind. They took each other’s hands and held on as they marched deeper and deeper into the woods.

~

“Dustin, Dustin!” Eddie shouted as Dustin rushed ahead from the group.

He barely made it in time to pull him back from face plant into the lake. “Shit, dude! Not every edge of the water has a shore line. Jesus Christ!”

“Whoa!” Dustin said. He pointed out to the water. “It’s got to be out there in the lake.”

“Shit that’s where Patrick was killed,” Eddie whispered back. “Look around for the boat, it should be around here somewhere.”

They finally found it and dragged it up to the shore. Dustin stepped up to the boat but Wayne put his hand on his chest.

“No kids,” he growled. “I should say no one under eighteen, but I have feeling the ladies are just goin’ to ignore me if I try to stop them from going.”

Robin and Nancy shared a glance and then they both shrugged. He wasn’t wrong.

“Someone should stay here and watch the littles,” Wayne continued. “I volunteer. Just don’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

Eddie grinned at him. “I can’t promise nothing. Especially with this lot.”

Wayne huffed out a chuckle and then waved them off. “Dustin, give Nancy the compass so that can find this hellgate.”

Dustin very unwillingly and loudly complaining handed over the compass.

The four teenagers got into the boat and Eddie looked back at the shore as the Party shrank the further they got from them. He had this uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that it would be some time before he saw them again.

~

Steve started untying his shoelaces and working off his socks.

“What are you doing?” Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was going to go. I’m a strong swimmer.”

Steve looked up from where he was shoving his socks into his sneakers. “Well unless you can beat co-captain of the swim team and a lifeguard for three years straight, it’s going to be me.”

Eddie let out a sigh. “He’s the best swimmer here, hands down. Plus, if something comes out of the Gate, he’ll be better able to fight it off.” Nancy rolled her eyes. “Because unless you have some magic power I haven’t been told about, Steve’s our heavy hitter.”

Nancy threw her arms in the air and turned away as Steve pulled off his sweater and tossed it to Eddie with a smile and a wink. Eddie pulled out a cigarette after that view, because, damn. His boyfriend was hot. But before he could even pull out his lighter, Robin snatched it from his lips.

“Gross!” Robin hissed dramatically, throwing the cigarette into the water.

Eddie wrapped the flashlight in the plastic bag and then handed it to Steve.

“Thanks,” Steve said with a smile, taking the flashlight from him.

“Good luck, babe,” Eddie murmured.

Steve nodded and dove right into the water. He felt that rush that he always did when hit the water. It silenced the roar of his thoughts and narrowed his focus. He was more at home here then on land. With Eddie’s flashlight in hand he moved toward the glowing light.

He got as close as he dared to that thing. It was red and pulsating. Angry. Angry in a way that only the Upside Down could be. He swam backwards to try to get distance from it, but his foot must have brushed something as he swam to the surface, because as he was in the middle of explaining to the others that it was definitely a gate, something grabbed grabbed a hold of his ankle and dragged him back down.

He struggled and fought but it was no use, whatever had a hold on him was not going to let go. With that strange swoop that occurred when you moved from one dimension to the next, suddenly he was in the Upside Down. All alone. Barefoot and shirtless in a world designed to kill you as fast as possible. Yeah he was fucked.

~

Suddenly Steve was fighting for his life, but he wasn’t alone. Somehow all three of them had dived right in after him and were attacking the monsters with boat oars. Eddie was swinging his oar around with deadly accuracy. Even breaking the oar in two on the second to the last bat.

God, Eddie was hot when he was angry.

Wait.

He needed to focus so he didn’t die. He bit the tail of the demobat that had wrapped its tail around his neck, causing the beast to let go fast. But Steve was faster. He grabbed the tail and began bashing in whatever the thing had for brains and then stomped on it, ripping it in two.

He panted, spitting out the brackish goo that made up their blood, trying to get out as much as he could. It tasted vile. Even more so than his own. He looked up at the blood red sky dancing with lightning and his eyes fluttered closed.

“Eddie meet the Upside Down,” he breathed, “Upside Down has already met Eddie.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh and then was suddenly giggling. Then they all were.

“I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to Jeff’s humor,” Eddie said once he could breath again.

“Let’s get under cover,” Nancy said with a sneer. “Because I really don’t think we’re going to like what happens if more of them show up.”

Steve pointed to the ‘shore’ line where the trees loomed in front of them. “That’s as good a place as any. We know what a demogorgon and the Mind Flayer sound like and can avoid them as much as possible.”

Nancy led the way to the treeline with everyone else following behind.

“I hate that’s a thing we know,” Robin groused as she fell in step with Steve.

Eddie brought up the rear. He kept looking behind them as though he could feel something out there watching them. Or rather watching him.

~

Once they were safely out of the watchful ‘eyes’ of the demobats, Eddie relaxed his shoulders. But the downside to relaxing after an ordeal like that one is that the adrenaline wears off.

“Fuck!” Steve hissed putting a hand on his side and it coming back covered in blood.

“Shit, baby!” Eddie said, moving him to sit on a nearby rock. “That looks bad.”

“What if you get rabies?” Robin asked panicked. “Do Upside Down creatures have rabies?”

“Shut up, Robin,” Steve asked, leaning his head back and gripping his hair to fight back on the pain, “or I swear to god I will hit you!”

Robin hiccuped and then smiled. “At least your humor is intact.”

“Move,” Nancy said, the pieces of the bottom of her shirt in her hands. “We need to wrap that up so it doesn’t get infected.”

Eddie snorted. “Do you know first aid, Nance?”

“Well...” she muttered, chewing on the bottom on her lip. “I mean a little.”

“Well I know a lot,” Eddie said, yanking the strips from her. “Wayne was an army medic and I got into a shit ton of scrapes the first year I was living with him. So if anyone is going to treat Steve it’s going to be a Munson and as Wayne ain’t here, it’s gonna be me.”

Nancy stepped back to stand with Robin, her arms crossed over her chest.

Eddie looked up at Steve and gave his hand a squeeze. “This is gonna hurt a lot, but this is just to stop the bleeding until we can get you somewhere where we can do a proper job of it, okay?”

Steve nodded. “Just do it. I trust you.”

Eddie gave his hand another squeeze and started to wrap the wounds around Steve’s stomach and sides, neatly tucking the ends under the bandage to keep it in place.

“We need to get up high to see where we are so we can get out of this hell hole,” he said with a grimace as he got to his feet.

He looked around him and found a suitable tree and began climbing.

“Just don’t step on the vines,” Nancy warned. “They’re connected to Vecna.”

Eddie turned around to see that the tree was covered in them and he had somehow missed them on his way up. “Shit.”

“Remember when I said the demodogs where connected to a hive mind?” Steve asked as Eddie tried to figure out a way to get down. “Apparently all things in the Upside Down are connected to the rat bastard.”

“Great,” Eddie growled. “Just fucking great.”

“We need to get to my house,” Nancy said, “I have two guns in my bedroom, and I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Eddie hopped down. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?”

“I know, right?” Robin said gleefully, “She such a badass.”

“I have two,” Nancy said with smile. “I have a Russian pistol and an old revolver.”

Steve scoffed and grinned. “You almost shot me with that one.”

Nancy grinned back. “And you almost deserved it.”

THWUMP!

“For your modesty, Stevie,” Eddie growled, with a glare.

Steve realized that he was now holding the battle vest in his arms. He smiled up at Eddie. “Thanks, love.”

Just then an earthquake hit, throwing Nancy into Steve’s arms and Robin and Eddie to the ground. Once it stopped, Steve made sure Nancy was steady enough and then he began to walk in the direction he was sure Nancy’s house was.

Eddie expression softened as Steve happily put on the vest and then yes, he admired his boyfriend’s ass. Sue him, he loved that ass. He hopped to his feet and dutifully followed Steve out of the forest.

Nancy pursed her lips together and bit her tongue. Ducking her head to hide her smile, she fell in step with Robin.

~

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: EIGHT SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @beelze-the-bubkiss @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @themoonagainstmers

9- @steddieislife @chaotic-waffle

[fairyrcts]

R U MINE ? , M.S.

by fairyrcts contents - intended lowercase , 3rd person , use of y/n , unprotected sex (not recommended) , semi-public sex ¿ , more (?)

an - just made this is 20 mins while my bf got me mcdonalds :)

taglist - @pvssychicken , @gothiccvnt6996 , @emely9274 (header by @issysh3ll )

there weren't any words to describe what y/n felt currently. at the moment, she was getting dressed to see her friend/situationship or whatever the hell he was.

he'd only texted her half an hour ago to get ready and to look nice. she had no idea what he had in store for her.

matt and y/n had met at a party around 3 months ago. to say he was amazing was an understatement. but no matter how much he acted like it, he wasn't her boyfriend.

he'd bring her lunch every day at work, check up on her constantly, compliment her, call her cute names that only belonged to her, buy her things 'just because', but putting a lable on it? no, not happening.

y/n never wanted to upset him by bringing up the fact that she wanted commitment, because she had a good thing going for her. so now, he was clearly taking her somewhere special.

usually, their dates were simple like to a coffee shop or a record store, but now he's telling her to get ready and to look fancy.

was he gonna finally ask? no, she didn't wanna get her hopes up.

she was shooken out of her thoughts by the doorbell ringing. y/n walked down the stairs of her home, her black silk dress going up her thigh just slightly.

she opened the door to matt holding a bouquet of red and white roses tied up in a black bow. her smile went from ear to ear as she saw the sight in front of her.

"well, don't you look gorgeous. here, sweetheart. put em' somewhere nice." matthew handed her the bouquet with a smirk playing on his lips.

"you seriously didn't have to get me these, y'know." she giggled, placing them in the vase just beside the front door.

"of course i did. now, c'mon. we can't be late." his voice was low as he grabbed her hand and walked her to his car, opening the passenger door for her.

after getting in himself, he turned the radio up slightly so it'd play faintly behind their conversation.

"so, what's surprise you've got planned, hm?" y/n hummed, the beach by the neighborhood playing quietly under her words.

"if i told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, now would it?" he obviously had a point, but the nosiness couldn't help but get the best of y/n.

"okay, but i wanna know. please?"

matt simply shook his head 'no' as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

"pleasee, matt. y'know i hate surprises." y/n's whiney voice only made matt harder than it was when he saw her open that door.

"you're gonna have to beg better than that if you really wanna know, darling." he turned his head to flash her a smile, only making her groan.

of course she acted annoyed, but she was more wet then ever. she squeezed her thighs together to at least make an attempt for her to stop thinking about it.

"please, matt. c'mon, it's not fair. please? i'll be good the rest of the ride."

rest of the ride? matt was damn ready to pull over and fuck her right then and there.

"keep talking like that and there might not be a 'rest of the ride'." he warned. although he didn't even try, his voice just caused a pool in her panties. but then again, anything matt did had that affect on her.

just for shits and giggles, y/n decided to keep it going by teasing him just a bit more.

"oh yeah? and what's that supposed to mean, hmm?" she moved her body so she was leaning on the middle console.

her boobs were basically in his face. he let out a shaky breath, his dick growing by the second.

his eyes wandered her body, fighting to keep his sight on the road.

as he saw the glow of a gas station sign and made the choice to pull over.

he parked his car in a spot around the back, immediately turning his head towards her.

"the fuck made you think you can talk like that? backseat, now." his tone was demanding while the soft sound of arctic monkeys filled the car.

her eyes, filled with lust, narrowed at him before making her way to the back.

matt did the same, only getting out to do so. his hands made it's way to her neck as he began kissing her aggressively.

his movements were harsh, his tongue swirling around in her mouth while she moaned against his mouth.

he took the hand off her throat and started unbuckling his pants. y/n pulled away to assist him.

she pulled his black pants down to his ankles, leaving him in his boxers while he unbuttoned his shirt. y/n took off her dress, leaving her in her black lace bra and panties.

matt's dick got hard at the girl in front of him. he started palming himself through his boxers while he mumbled compliments to her.

y/n pulled off his boxers, his cock standing up. her eyes widened as she let out a gasp.

"fuck, c'mere." matt's voice was hurried while he took off her lingerie.

the car floor was now covered in discarded clothes.

y/n moved herself on top of his dick, already lubricated in his pre-cum. matt pushed her hips down on top of him, the two moaning loudly.

he began leaving messy hickeys on her neck while moving her body up and down on his dick.

he muttered small things in her ear, making her moans gradually get louder.

"yeah, nobody fucks you like this but me, ain't that right?" he spoke as his dick unintentionally hitting her g-spot consistently.

"mm f-fuck! only you, m-matt!" y/n moans were music to matt's ears.

he kept pounding his dick inside of the girl riding him. he could feel himself getting close.

"fuck, oh yeah. who's are ya? are ya mine?"

y/n couldn't even form coherent sentences. "i- i mhm. i'm y-yours! fuck!" she knew she was about to cum. the feeling of his cock balls-deep in her cunt was almost unbearable.

her face contored as she came on his dick. her juices coating him only pushed him over the edge as he released inside of her.

"shit, 'm sorry." he panted, breathless. the two of them began catching their breath again as y/n slowly moved off his dick, wincing in the process.

matt picked the clothes up from beneath them, handing y/n hers.

"sorry i made us miss whatever we had planned." she mumbled as she shimmied back into her dress.

matt chuckled. he hadn't even thought about their date.

"it was a reservation to some fancy japanese restaurant."

y/n laughed dryly.

and the rest was a blur. all of her worries had washed away. she was happy to have him, whether he was hers or not.

[bellaxgiornata]

How Far Does it Go; When Does it End?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x depressed!fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/tags: 18+; depiction of depression, suicidal ideation if you squint, confession of feelings, and angst with a hopeful ending [please don't read if any of this could be triggering]

Summary: It's been weeks that you've just been going through the motions day by day. But when you decline yet another invitation to Josie’s with your friends, a worried Matt takes it upon himself to check up on you.

a/n: This one is a little bit depressing because I've been going through some things and have been craving angst, but I promise the ending is hopeful. As mentioned in the tags, please don't read if you believe it might be triggering. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @1988-fiend @geminadeckerwritesstuff @flowher @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @writtenbyred @moncherriis @a-half-empty-g1rl @beezusvreeland @da3m0nsneverstop

Unsure how long you'd been sitting there entranced by the snow steadily accumulating along the tops of the parked cars lining the street below, you stared at the flurry of snowflakes blowing outside of the window. Tonight Hell's Kitchen was set afire by the orange glow of its street lights, the haunting warmth of them reflecting off of the snow banks. A few cars were carefully making their way through the mess of slush and ice along the road, otherwise it seemed bleak and lifeless in the city this evening.

Personally you’d always hated how little sunlight there was during the winter months. On weekdays you rose in the mornings to get ready for work before the sun had even risen. By the time you'd even managed to leave the office after work, the sun had already set. For you, most days this time of year passed by with you barely seeing more than a sliver of sunlight–because your small cubicle certainly didn't have any windows. And it wasn't likely that you would ever find yourself working anywhere with an actual view.

Resting your forehead against the chilled glass of your living room window, you released a nearly inaudible sigh as you stared out into the blackness of the night. You probably should have been doing a number of other things right now–cleaning up the dishes that had piled in your sink, taking your growing load of laundry to the laundromat a block over, or even compiling a grocery list to stock your empty fridge. But instead you just sat there leaning over the armrest of your couch, losing count of how many taxis you'd seen skid across the icy road while imagining what it might feel like if one of them just lost control and careened straight into you on the crosswalk below. 

You were so far tucked into your mind that when a dark shape dropped down onto your fire escape mere inches from your face, you had barely even reacted. Instead your eyes slowly rose up, your gaze gradually trailing its way up along the black-clad figure. Though you didn't need to see the mask covering the man's face to know who'd just landed on your fire escape. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen–or rather, one of your best friends and the subject of your unrequited affections, Matthew Murdock.

“Do you mind?” Matt's muffled voice came from outside, a hand gesturing to the window. “It's kind of cold out here.”

Pushing yourself away from the glass, you rose from the couch and stepped over to the window, reaching up and unlatching the locks. You began to slide the window up as high as it could go before stepping aside to let Matt in. A frigid gust of air and a flutter of snowflakes followed behind him as he slipped through the opening.

Sinking back into the same spot on your couch without a word, you watched as Matt turned and shut the window after himself. A dusting of snow sat along his muscular shoulders, the white a sharp contrast to all of his black. For a moment all you could do was stare at the little flecks of white, watching as they slowly began to disappear, melting into the darkness.

The sound of Matt clearing his throat broke through your daze, pulling you back to reality. He looked good standing in your living room wearing his makeshift vigilante costume. Honestly a part of you hated whenever he stopped by your apartment dressed like this solely for that reason. Because it physically pained you to look at him, especially as you watched him reach a gloved hand up to remove the mask from off of his head, the cloth giving way to reveal his face. 

He was still the most beautiful thing in your life.

“Hey,” Matt greeted, sounding slightly winded. He tossed his mask onto your coffee table, running a hand through his mussed hair as he strode towards the couch to take a seat beside you. “We missed you at Josie’s tonight.”

You fought down the doubtful scoff at his comment. It seemed highly unlikely that Matt, Karen, and Foggy had truly missed your melancholic presence at the bar tonight. The three of them could often hold full conversations before they even remembered you were silently sitting at the table with them. Which was partly why you hadn't felt like meeting them again tonight for drinks, because you were tired of feeling like the often forgotten fourth wheel of the group. 

You shrugged weakly. “Wasn't in the mood for Josie’s,” you simply said.

“Seems you haven't been in the mood for Josie’s for awhile,” Matt gently pointed out. “It's been weeks since you last joined us there.”

“Oh,” you replied.

Truthfully you didn't know exactly how long it had been since you'd last met them all there for drinks after work. The days had all blurred together lately. Maybe that explained why Matt had been so persistent on the phone when he'd called after work and continued to try and convince you to join them. But even he didn't succeed.

“Is everything alright with you?” Matt asked, his brows creasing together as his eyes fixed somewhere around your chin. “Because you seem…distant lately. Quieter than usual.”

“I'm always quiet,” you countered.

“Yes, well,” Matt said, shooting you one of his charming smiles meant to ease the tension in the room. “You seem like you're even more lost in thought than usual.”

You shrugged again before slumping back into the couch cushions. “Is that so wrong?”

The frown on Matt's mouth deepend further. “Depends,” he answered.

“On what?” you asked.

You noticed his brief hesitation, the slight pause as his head titled just a bit to the side. His eyes were scanning you now, traveling around the space you occupied beside him. 

You knew what he was doing. Reading you. Reading your body with his senses in a way that only he could. Usually that made you uncomfortable whenever you caught him doing it because you were uncertain what he might learn–like your feelings for him. So generally you called him out on it. But not tonight. Tonight you just…didn't have the energy for it.

“It depends on what you're thinking about,” Matt finally answered.

“Nothing really,” you told him. 

Matt's shoulders dropped at your response, the corners of his lips twitching downwards. You caught the way his eyes tightened in something akin to frustration. It was obvious what was coming next–the patented Matthew Murdock attempt to pry too hard for answers. Though fortunately for you he wouldn't be using his fists to get them. 

“Talk to me,” Matt ordered, shifting on the couch to face you more fully. “What's going on? Why are you shutting yourself off from everyone?”

You pulled a face at the accusation. “That’s not what I’m doing,” you argued. “Besides, isn’t that the kettle calling the pot black or something?” 

“You've been avoiding all of us for weeks,” Matt pointed out, ignoring your attempt to divert his attention. “Always making some excuse not to come out, or that you’re too tired for anyone to stop over. And you've been ignoring all of our calls.”

“I have not,” you disagreed. “I spoke to you on the phone earlier tonight.”

“Yeah,” Matt swiftly agreed with a nod. “But that was only because I called you about eight times before you finally answered.” 

His lips pursed tight together, looking as if he was internally conflicted for a second like there was more he wanted to say. You wondered why he’d even hesitated because in all the time you’d known Matt, he wasn’t usually the type to hold his tongue. 

“I've noticed you're always in your bed when I pass by at night,” he finally said. “Earlier than when you’d usually go to sleep. And I know you're not actually sleeping.”

Your chest tightened at the knowledge that Matt had been checking in on you in the evenings without you knowing. How much had he overheard while you’d been in your apartment? 

Eyes dropping down to your hands, you began to nervously pick at your fingernails. “I have a hard time falling asleep,” you mumbled.

“I can smell the tears,” Matt told you. “Even from outside your apartment. You can't hide them from me. For weeks now I've noticed you lying in bed just crying at night.” He paused, shaking his head and briefly wincing before he continued. “Something is going on and you're shutting us out. I'm not stupid. I know what you're doing. So just–just tell me what's going on. Please.”

You contemplated lying even though you knew he'd be able to tell. Then you contemplated making up something just to get him to stop asking questions. You even contemplated telling him off for eavesdropping before cursing him out for invading your privacy. But what surprised you was how you felt compelled to just tell him the truth. Because you were just too damn tired to do anything else.

“Why?” you asked weakly. “Why do you want to know?”

Matt’s entire face tightened, looking as if he was offended you'd even asked him that. Then seconds later his expression abruptly shifted to irritation and you braced yourself at the sight of it.

“Because I care about you!” he snapped, his frustration finally coming out. “We all do! And we're concerned about you! How do you not get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, shrinking in on yourself on the couch. Matt had never spoken to you like that before and it had taken you by surprise. Clenching your jaw tighter, you began to pick faster at your nails. Beside you Matt released a sigh, his head dropping down towards his chest as one of his gloved hands reached up, the heel of it rubbing at his temple.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just worried, okay? I didn’t mean to yell. I just want to help.”

“Sometimes you can’t.”

The words had slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them. Like a knee-jerk reaction. Out of your peripheral you saw Matt’s head raise up again, his eyes landing near you on the couch. You froze, your fingers halting their fidgeting.

“What?” he asked softly. 

“Sometimes you can’t,” you repeated. “Sometimes there's people you can’t help, Matt.”

His eyes narrowed back at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as you tried to swallow back the lump forming in your throat, you knew there was no turning back now. He’d only pry harder if you tried to push him away at this point. Being as stubborn as Matt was, you wouldn’t put it past him to sit on your couch until the sun came up waiting for you to tell him what he wanted. 

So with a heavy sigh, you finally gave in.

“Do you ever feel like you're just…making it?” you hesitantly asked Matt.

Finally tearing your eyes from your hands, you looked in his direction, though your gaze didn't quite land on him. Rather it hovered somewhere just over his shoulder as you stared at a patched over spot on the wall. Ever since you'd moved here you’d often wondered how it had gotten there. 

“How so?” he questioned.

“Like you're just getting by–day to day, week to week?” you explained. “As if your life isn't actually going anywhere? Like you're barely holding it together and you're just one little thing from it completely falling apart? And maybe you’ve finally just, I don’t know, become numb to the fear of that happening? Because who cares, really. What does it matter?” 

Matt shifted a bit closer to you on the couch, moving slow and careful like he didn’t want to startle you. “Is that how you’ve been feeling? Like things don’t matter?”

Your eyes slid over from the patched up space on the wall and finally landed back on Matt’s face. You recognized the look there instantly. Genuine concern was written in the way his eyes were pinched tight and fixed along your chest; the firm set of his lips as his head tilted marginally to the side proving how gravely invested he was in the conversation. It was the same way he looked whenever he was intensely focused on someone out in Hell's Kitchen in need of help. You’d seen it on his face in the past when he was here as the Devil, right before he’d jump out of your window to go find whoever it was that needed him. 

But right now he was using that look on you. The gravity of it had you sitting there with your lips parted feeling like you were on the verge of either fully opening up or completely closing yourself off to him. 

And then, somehow all at once, everything poured forth from you like a teetering cup finally spilling over.

“I mean I get up, brush my teeth, get ready for work, see all the neverending and overwhelming terrible shit on the news in the morning like that's normal while I drink down a massive coffee just to survive the day. Then I go to work, smile at all the right moments, make inane small talk while feeling utterly invisible busting my ass knowing that I'm never getting that damn promotion let alone a pay raise just so I can afford to actually live out here,” you continued, everything you'd been holding back just falling out of you in a rush of words. “Then I what? Go home and cook and eat and wash the dishes and go to bed? Except going to sleep is a chore. Trying to quiet my mind is exhausting. Facing the same demons in my sleep night after night is too much. And then,” you said, aware that Matt's face had fallen, his hands gently gripping your knees even though you hadn't felt when he'd actually grabbed them, “the morning comes.”

When you didn't elaborate further Matt's head curiously tilted to the side.

“Isn't that good?” he questioned. 

“Is it?” you asked in return. 

There was a long pause, a silence filled with so many unspoken words. As you sat there staring at Matt, you could see the thoughts racing in his mind. You kept quiet as you wondered which one would eventually win out. Because you knew Matt. You knew he'd have something to say. But for some reason that also scared you a little.

When he finally spoke he said your name, the sound of it different than usual as it rolled off of his tongue–somehow tender and delicate. It took you entirely off guard, something stirring within you at the way he'd spoken it. There was an emotion struggling to break past the dam that had been staving your feelings off for weeks now, but you chose to push it back down in the moment. With your own mind spiraling, you continued on.

“There’s like this–this emptiness,” you confessed. “It’s heavy but it feels like nothing at all. You know? And it just sits right here–” You laid a hand flat across your chest, noticing the tears building in Matt’s eyes as they followed the movement. “It’s like there’s a hole. Like a blackhole just sucking everything into it lately. Everything . And I can’t do anything about it. Do you know what I mean? It’s just there .” 

You paused, licking your lips as you felt the heaviness of that metaphorical blackhole in your chest weighing you down even now. It wasn’t until Matt’s hands gripped your knees tighter that you remembered he was still touching you.

“It’s just always there,” you said, slowly losing momentum. “And I’m just left wondering how far does that emptiness go? Does it ever end?”

A long, heavy silence filled the room when you’d finally quieted. Gaze dropping down to Matt’s gloved hands still gripping your knees, you suddenly found yourself feeling ridiculous for having spilled all of that to him. You’d never gotten that personal with Matt before, certainly not about your struggles with depression. And now here you’d just dumped it on him all at once.

“I'm sorry,” you blurted, shaking your head. “That was–”

“Stop,” he ordered.

Mouth still hanging open, you stared back at him dumbfounded. He was sitting there on the couch with tears brimming in his eyes, his lips quivering as if he was struggling not to start crying himself. You felt horrible for having unloaded on him like that, for making him feel like he currently felt.

“I’m sor–”

“ Stop ,” he repeated.

Matt's hands released your knees, sliding up the outside of your thighs so carefully before they made their way towards your back. Before you'd known what was even happening, he was pulling you straight into himself on the couch, drawing you right into his chest. You didn’t fight him, not even as his strong arms encircled your waist and held you tight. Your own arms remained at your side, your cheek pressed right up against Matt’s firm shoulder as you sat there uncertain how to react. 

“I didn’t know,” Matt whispered. 

You frowned, shaking your head against his shoulder. “It wasn’t on you to know, Matt,” you replied. “I didn’t want anyone to know. That was the point.”

“Yes, but I’d heard you crying for weeks now–”

“Probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping then,” you muttered.

“–and I didn’t piece anything together,” he continued. “I figured maybe you were going through a breakup or something. From one of those dating app things you use. I didn’t know it was something much more serious.”

“I’m fine ,” you assured him. 

“No, you’re not,” he countered, his arms holding you even tighter to the front of himself as if that alone could keep you from falling apart. “You’re not, not if you feel like that. And maybe–maybe you should talk to someone,” he suggested carefully. “Because you know it's okay if you need to. There's nothing wrong with seeking help.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like a therapist?”

“If that's what would help, yes,” he answered. “But you know you're not alone, right? I'm always here. Always . So are Karen and Fog. You can talk to us, too.”

Turning your head, you attempted to hide your face against his shoulder. With your nose pressed against his spandex shirt, you could easily smell his sweat from his evening running around the city. The scent of it surrounding you felt both oddly comforting and strangely intimate. 

“I don't want to put this on any of you,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

“You know,” Matt began slowly, resting his chin lightly atop your head, “it's okay to let other people in. You don't have to keep everyone at a distance like you usually do. Some of us want to get closer to you.”

“Not to this part of me,” you whispered. “Not to this…dark part of me.”

“I let you into mine,” Matt quietly pointed out. “You might have accidentally discovered I was the Man in Black, but the rest of it? The heightened senses? The night I started going out like this? My childhood?” He shifted above you, turning his face so he could bury it against the top of your head. “I showed you the darker parts of me. I let you in.”

You knew he was right the moment he'd said it. Matt had told you so much about himself after you'd accidentally uncovered his big secret. He'd revealed so much about his dad's passing and the pain of his mentor, Stick, disappearing on him. He'd told you about his struggles hearing the people of Hell’s Kitchen in need of help and how he just couldn't ignore it any longer. He'd even told you about his ex, Elektra, and how she'd abandoned him like so many others in his life. But you'd never understood why he had.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “You did. Though I've never understood why you let me in like you did. Because you definitely don't let others in, either, Matt. Foggy doesn't even know most of what you've told me.”

Above you Matt shifted, turning to rest his cheek against the top of your head. You sat in his embrace with your arms awkwardly at your side, that strange feeling he'd stirred awake in you just minutes ago steadily demanding to be felt.

“I thought it would have been obvious,” Matt began. “Because I'm always stopping by to see you here when I'm out. Always calling and inviting you out to Josie’s because I want you there. Letting you see all of me when I don't show anyone else.”

Your face scrunched up at his words, uncertain if he was getting at what you thought he might be getting at. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, you began to nervously gnaw at it as you felt one of his hands begin to absently rub a soothing circle on your back.

“I care about you,” he confessed. “As more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

You nearly stopped breathing at his surprising admission, your body going still in his arms. This was not how you saw the evening going when he appeared on your fire escape. 

“I always just figured the whole Man in Black thing was too much for you,” he continued. “So I never said anything. But I always thought you knew that's how I felt.”

“I–I didn't,” you whispered, still stunned.

Matt cleared his throat, his hand stopping its absent movement on your back. You missed the comfort of it immediately. 

“I'm sorry, this isn't the time or place for this conversation,” Matt apologized. “I just…always thought you knew.”

Your own arms hesitantly found their way around Matt’s waist, finally hugging him in return. Somehow you felt his hold on you tighten further in response, a small smile slipping onto your face.

“You're right, it's not the time,” you agreed. “But for the record, I've always cared about you as more than a friend, too. I just figured you didn't feel the same or were just too busy to, you know, want something more.”

Another silence fell between the pair of you as you sat there curled around each other on your couch. Your eyes closed when his hands once more began their comforting movements along your back, your own hands fisting around the material of his shirt. For the first time in a long time you didn't feel so alone. For once you felt seen. 

“You know something,” you whispered, breaking the stillness of your apartment.  

“What?” Matt whispered against your hair.

“I get it,” you told him. Shifting in his arms, you unburied your face from its place against him, once more resting your cheek against his shoulder instead as you spoke. “I get why you do it. Why you go out at night like this,” you told him. “Because of the pain raging inside of you–the same thing I feel sometimes. And because of how it feels like the world is sometimes falling apart around us. Because it's hard to just sit back and feel like there's nothing you can do, nothing you can change.” 

You paused, your own arms holding onto him a little tighter. Matt had gone still though, as if he was intensely focused on everything you were saying.

“If I could go out and save a life, or stop a mugging, or save a child from their parents’ abuse, or rescue a young woman from an assault, I would.” A tear slipped out of your eye as you paused to exhale a shuddering breath. “And if I could hear so many others in pain, I would be going out and doing something about it, too. So I get it, Matt. Why you do what you do. And I honestly don't think that's dark at all despite how you often talk about it.”

“No?” he whispered.

“No,” you replied. “I think it's admirable. I've always thought that.”

At first Matt didn't respond, and as the silence grew around the pair of you, you wondered if you'd finally said too much tonight. Gone too far. But then you felt something gently fall into your hair, and then another and another. It took a moment before you realized they were droplets of tears.  

Crying. Matt was crying. 

“I'm sorry,” you apologized automatically, your arms attempting to unwrap from around him as you tried to pull away. “I'm so sor–”

“I said stop,” he croaked out, his arms still encircled around you, keeping you in place against his chest. “Stop apologizing.”

“I–I don't–” you stammered in confusion. “I didn't mean to upset you, Matt.”

“I'm not upset,” he explained, removing his face from where it had been pressed to the top of your head. “It's just hearing that from you,” he began slowly, “it…means more than you know. Because I–I have always thought there was something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Matt,” you immediately assured him.

“Well there's nothing wrong with you, either,” he told you. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes instantly. The dam that had felt like it was holding back all of your feelings lately–the dam that had been keeping you numb–suddenly felt as if it had finally broken as the first few tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Like I said, I know this isn't exactly the time for this conversation, but I just wanted you to know that you matter to someone,” Matt confessed. “Because you matter to me.”

Hands gripping firmly onto Matt as if he was grounding you as all your emotions came surging forth, your tears continuing to fall, you whispered back, “You matter to me, too.”

You felt Matt's mouth lightly press a kiss to the top of your head. As his lips lingered, an unexplainable weightlessness filled you. 

“And while I don't have an answer for how you're feeling,” he said softly, “I want you to know that I'm here. Whenever you need me. However you need me. Okay? Because you're not alone. You're never alone.”

Eyes slowly closing as you began to finally relax in his embrace, you felt the tears spill in steady streams down your cheeks. Maybe not everything was quite as bleak as your mind had led you to believe lately. Maybe there was still some good in the world to be grateful for. And maybe you did need to finally reach out and get some help. 

But for now, you just liked the idea of not crying alone in your bed again. 

“Is it too much to ask you to stay with me for a bit?” you asked hopefully. “I wouldn't mind having some company tonight.”

Matt placed another soft kiss into your hair.  “I'll stay as long as you want, sweetheart,” he promised.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 6]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

words: 1.6k

There is a big party on the other side of the park, with lots of music and food, so the small playground is empty. That means Minnie can play on anything she wants, and she goes straight for the see-saw.

Minnie loves the see-saw. It is so fun to go up and down, up and down, up and down, and she likes the squeaky noise it makes. It's funny and it doesn't hurt her ears. 

She loves this park because it's closer to the water and things aren't always so loud. The other park is close to the road and people are always yelling and making their cars beep and she doesn't like it. The river is smelly but not as smelly as the train, so it's okay. And Mommy likes this park a lot, so that makes Minnie like it more. 

Minnie likes it when her Mommy also likes things and that makes it easy to like Mister Matt. 

He came with her and Mommy to the park and while Minnie plays, they are having Adult talks.  She doesn't listen to what they say, the big words don't make sense to her, but she can tell whatever they are talking about makes both of them happy and that makes Minnie happy. 

Mister Matt makes Mommy smile on her mouth and her heart and that's important. Sometimes Mommy's mouth smiles but her heart doesn't - like when scary people talk too loud on the street or when bad things happen, and Minnie doesn't like that. She wants her Mommy to be happy and have real smiles. 

Mister Matt's heart smiles when he's with Mommy and that makes Minnie's heart smile, too. And his voice is nice, and he knows how to do Adult things like reading and how to tie shoes and he's smart. Mister Matt knows lots of stuff, but he isn't mean when he talks to Minnie. Some people can be mean and that's rude. Mister Matt isn't ever rude - he says 'Please' and 'Thank you' without Mommy having to tell him to.  

Minnie is glad her Mommy wants to be friends with Mister Matt. Her Mommy needs more friends. Minnie has Pig and Scooby, but Mommy doesn't have Everyday friends, only Special friends. Special friends are for Birthday Parties and when they go places with lots of other kids and Minnie is supposed to play with them. 

Minnie would much rather play with Mister Matt than other kids. She hopes that when Mister Matt and Mommy are done talking, he will be able to swing with her. She thinks he will be good at the swings - he has big arms and can push Minnie extra high. 

Minnie looks over to where Mister Matt and her Mommy are sitting. They are talking in soft voices and Mister Matt is holding Mommy's hand. Both their hearts and mouths are smiling, and Mister Matt is making Mommy laugh. Mommy sees Minnie looking over at them so Minnie waves from the see-saw. Mommy waves back, then tells Mister Matt what is happening and then he is also waving at Minnie. That makes her giggle and wave back harder. 

Mommy's phone starts making noise and Minnie watches as she gets up and goes behind the bench to answer. She can still see Minnie but isn't talking into Mister Matt's ear. Mommy says talking on the phone in people's ear is rude and Mommy doesn't like being rude.

"Minnie, can you hear me?"

The voice is Mister Matt's and Minnie stops her bouncing. Mommy can't hear her unless she shouts across the park and it's rude to shout when people are on the phone, so she starts to get off the see-saw so she can go to the bench. Mister Matt speaks again before she can finish getting up.

"You don't need to stop playing, sweetheart. I can hear you from here. Can you hear me?"

Minnie plops back down onto her seat and nods, "Uh-huh. I can hears you." She talks in her normal voice, since he said he can hear her. She starts to go up and down again, smiling when the squeak returns. Mister Matt stays sitting on the bench. 

"Can I ask you some questions?" Mister Matt asks and that excites Minnie. She likes answering his questions.

"Yeah!"

"Can you tell me what else you can hear?"

That is a big question and Minnie has to close her eyes so she can Hear properly. She has to make sure she can tell Mister Matt the right things. 

Everything gets Loud as Minnie opens up her ears and the world gets a little bigger. Lots of people are talking all over each other and there's lots of words she doesn't understand. It sounds like when Mommy is looking at videos on her phone and scrolls through them fast. Words start then stop and everyone has a different voice and there's music, too. There's doggies and cats making lots of noises, too, and lots of birds. 

A certain jingle catches her attention and Minnie knows that song only comes from one place. "I hear the ice cream man," she tells Mister Matt before singing along with the song, because Mommy taught her the words. "Doooo your ears hang low! Do they wobble to and throw! Tie them in a knot, tie them in a bow! Ears hang low!"

Mister Matt laughs and smiles at her singing, and it makes Minnie giggle. His heart sounds really happy and Minnie wants to keep making him smile. She likes it when he smiles.

"Can you hear the horses?" Mister Matt asks her after she bounces a few times and she screws up her nose to listen better. Horses go clip-clop and neigh and at first, there's too much noise. It's hard to try to find the horse noises but she just has to listen extra good. She turns her head left and right to try to find where they are hidden.

Finally, she hears the horses.

The clip-clops are far away, but she can hear them, so Minnie nods and tells Mister Matt, "They don't wanna walk."  She can hear the huffy pouts the horses make, and they don't sound happy, now that she can focus on them. Sometimes, Minnie doesn't want to walk either, so she understands the sad noises. 

"No, they don't want to walk today," Mister Matt agrees and Minnie preens at doing a good job. 

She's the bestest at hearing. 

"Do the noises ever get too loud?" Mister Matt asks her and that makes Minnie frown. She doesn't like it when things get loud.

"Yeah," she says, trying to not whine. Babies whine and she's not a baby anymore. She's a big girl. But the noises get really really loud sometimes, and they hurt her ears. Then her whole head hurts really really badly and makes her want to cry. And then crying makes her head hurt even more. 

"What do you do when it gets too loud?"

Minnie doesn't even need to think about the answer because there is only one and quickly responds, "I listen to Mommy."

Mister Matt makes a funny noise, like he coughed but backwards, then asks her another question, "You listen to Mommy? How do you listen to Mommy?" 

"Her heart goes duh-duh. Duh-duh. Duh-duh. And it makes all the bad noise go away," Minnie explains. Mommy's heart is the best medicine - it makes her head not hurt and makes Minnie sleepy instead. Minnie just has to listen to her Mommy, and everything gets better again. 

Mister Matt doesn't ask another question right away, so Minnie opens her eyes and looks over at him. He's still sitting on the bench and Mommy is still on the phone, but now Mister Matt is touching his face, covering up his mouth. His teeth are making click-clack noises like Mommy's do when she works on a hard puzzle, so Minnie is going to be good and let him think. That's what Mommy always says - she's gotta think. 

Minnie goes back to listening to the horses. They are clip-clopping a lot more and Minnie pretends she is riding one of them. Bugs Bunny bounces when he rides a horse so bouncing on the see-saw must be the same and she quickly gets lost in her imagination for a while.

Minnie enjoys playing make pretend until her Mommy ends her phone call and goes back to sit by Mister Matt. They go back to Adult talking and she decides she doesn't want to see-saw anymore. 

"Woah, horsie," she tells the see-saw and stops pushing herself up and down. When it stops moving, she climbs off and pats where she was sitting as a thank you before turning and heading towards her Mommy and Mister Matt. There's space open between them and once she reaches the bench, Minnie pulls herself up. Mommy and Mister Matt reach out to help her, but she doesn't need it and plops herself down.

"Are you done playing?" Mommy asks once she's sitting proper and Minnie shakes her head.

"I wanna swing. Please," Minnie replies, making sure to use her Good Manners. She turns to look up at Mister Matt, who's already looking down at her, "Mister Matt, will you push me?"

His mouth smile gets really big before he answers, "Of course, sweetheart. I think we can figure something out." He looks back to Mommy, saying her Grown Up name, "What do you think? Do you think we can figure it out?"

Mommy laughs, a real happy laugh with a happy heart, and stands up, "I think we'll be able to figure out something just fine." 

a/n: a baby chapter for our little baby

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[dsireland86]

Hi, I'm not sure if your requests are open, but if they are, could you please write playing with Noah The Sims 4? It can be headcanons, one shot, whatever you want.

Hope you're doing well❤️

I'm doing a lot better ❤️ This should be fun. Sims 4 is fun.

The Sims 4

Tag list:

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Imagine:

You're on the road with the guys and you and Noah create an entire Bad Omen's family world in the Sims 4. Together you create crazy, out of the world scenarios and relationships that would never make sense in the real world, except maybe one.

"Oh my god, Noah! You can't do that!"

"Yes I can! My character can do whatever I want it to do."

"That's so disturbing."

"What's disturbing about it?"

Noah peers over the top of the computer that's sitting in your lap and wiggles his eyes brows. You simply roll your eyes and push his face away from you.

"What's Noah doing now? Is he still being inappropriate?"

"No!"

"Yes! His character is having a threesome!" you try to say through rolling laughter.

"Noah!" Matt's trying not to laugh while pretending to be the scolding parent.

"No, he's not! You can't even do that in this game!" he laughs partially defensively.

You chide him again, pointing at the laptop.

"Okay, well, that's the innuendo behind whatever... that is," you giggle.

It feels good to see Noah laughing like he is. It's been a while, and you were beginning to worry that a relapse was in the making, but now that feeling's gone.

"I told you about that kind of behavior, young man," Matt jokes, shoving Noah in the shoulder. "What hell is wrong with you."

Noah just shrugs, giving you that adorable little smile of his.

"Are the girls hot, at least?"

"Matthew!"

"Okay! Sorry," he chuckles, throwing his hands up in defense.

You roll your eyes again and sigh. Sometimes there's just really no point

"Watch this! Watch him!"

"No, I don't want to."

"Please, just one more time, I promise!"

"Grrrrrrr, okay fine! What?

You watch Noah's character though your computer screen for the umpteenth time tonight. If he tells you to "watch" one more time you're going to loose it.

His character is at another character's house party, and there's all kinds of crap happening that probably shouldn't be allowed in the game. Noah busts out laughing after he just made his character do what is known as "awesome party make out."

"Oh my g... Noah! I'm going to hurt you!"

You slap him in the shoulder as he cringes away from you, still laughing.

"I don't want to see that in a computer game."

"Oh, but you do in real life, huh?"

"What! No, that is not what I said."

Noah stares at you with a suspicious look.

"That's what you meant, though."

You feel your cheeks heat up, embarrassed by his comment.

"No."

"You hesitated," he points out with a smile.

"Shut-up, no, I didn't."

But really, you did. Making out with Noah is something that would only happen in your dreams.

For almost an hour, the two of you run scenarios back and forth, laughing and talking about the possibilities of them working in real life. You know they couldn't, but that's the beauty and fun of all it, and why you and Noah love playing the game together. After some time, you two have successfully built a house that stems from both your creative imaginations and move a few of your characters into it, hoping they get along and this whole idea works out.

'It's late. I'm going to bed," closing your laptop. You're about to stand up when Noah's hand reaches for yours.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

Noah rubs the back of your hand that's he's holding on to.

"For being my friend. For putting up with all my jokes and shit. I don't know what I'd do without you."

His words make your heart flutter, but it's the way he's smiling and looking at you that has the butterflies inside you coming alive.

"You're welcome. Goodnight, Noah."

By the time the tour ended, the Sim world you and Noah created was literally the craziest and most unrealistic senerio you could've ever imagined. Nothing about it made any sense to anyone, and the reality of some of the things actually happened had you wishing if only they were true, things like yours and Noah's characters unintentionally falling in love and making babies together.

"Yeah, I don't get it. How the fuck did that happen?" Matt was bent over looking hard at Noah's laptop screen. "The two of you are almost polar opposites."

Noah hits Matt on the back of the head.

"That's why it's called a game dufus. It's not meant to make sense. Besides, they're just characters. They're nothing like us in real life."

But that's a lie and both of you know it.

Your eyes are fixed on your screen, suddenly a little too embarrassed to even look at Matt or Noah. Was the idea of you two being together really that shocking? You could feel Noah's eyes on you, and when you look up, you meet them, soft and narrowed right above a gently sweet smile, and a feeling of excitement sweeps through you instantly. Noah knows about the secret your Sims 4 world really holds and it wasn't until this moment that you realize he's known all along.

[toavoidtherush]

this is an old story, one anyone can tell.

1, matthew stover - revenge of the sith. 2, david lynch - twin peaks. 3, tory adkisson - anecdote of the pig. 4, aeschylus - agamemnon. 5, homer trans. emily wilson - the illiad. 6, david leviathan - revisiting mockingjay ahead of the hunger games prequal. 7, richard siken - planet of love. 8, taylor swift - exile. 9, mike flannigan - the haunting of hill house. 10, iain reid - i'm thinking of ending things. 11, hadestown - road to hell (reprise). 12, anne carson - h of h playbook. 13, ts eliot - four quartets. 14, craig howell and chris nielsen - the last magician. 15, ethel cain - ptolemaea. 16, aeschylus - the oresteia. 17, joan tierney - how to draw a circle. 18, yellowjackets - flight of the bumblebee. 19, eula biss - the pain scale. 20, jean anouilh - antigone. 21, richard siken - the worm king's lullaby. 22, a series of unfortunate events - that's not how the story goes. 23, john darnielle - wolf in white van. 24, leigh janiak - fear street 1978. 25, joel anderson - lake mungo. 26, markus zusak - the book thief. 27, marah in the mainsal - leviathan. 28, dave filoni - twilight of the apprentice concept art. 29, terry pratchett - reaper man. 30, matthew stover - revenge of the sith.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

You are pumping out these request like a machine goddamn😦

Can I get the boys,separate, with a reader that they've known for a long time getting a glow up? Like they never found her attractive or saw her in a romantic light. But one day she BAM glows up, angsty pleeeaaaseee🙏🏽

Summary: In which you glow up after being rejected by your crush

Warnings: angst, no happy ending sorry.

Author's Note: these are all relatively small and under the same premise sorry!

You had liked your greaser friend for a while, like for a REALLY long time. So when you’d finally worked up enough courage to ask him on a date you felt heartbroken when he turned you down. Later you heard it was because you weren’t ‘pretty enough’. Well fuck that! You decided it was your perfect time to start a massive glow up!

PONYBOY CURTIS

As soon as you stepped into the classroom after everyone had returned from spring break, Pony’s jaw dropped. And so did a lot of other’s. You looked like a new person, so much so that he almost didn’t recognize you if not for your jewlery. God, you were gorgeous. He smiled at you, but you seemed to look right past him. He tried talking to you in the halls but nothing worked. You seemed so busy with your new life that you had barely any time for him.

“Hey Y/n, wait up!”

“Oh hey.” You said, not even looking him in the eyes.

“What’s up, you don’t even try to talk to me anymore,” he laughs awkwardly and you shoot him a confused look.

“Why would I?”

“Well, I mean..I thought you liked me?” He asked, and you scoffed.

“Yeah well not anymore,” you said before walking away.

JOHNNY CADE

You were hanging out at the lot by yourself when you turned around to find Johnny staring at you. His mouth was open in shock.

“Y/n?” He asked, truly blown away with how good you looked.

“Hey,” you said, trying to be respectful.

“Oh my god, haven’t seen you since..” his voice trails off and you cringe. The last time you talked to him you confessed and he politely declined, only to go off and laugh at you with Dallas later on.

“Yeah, that was my mistake,” you shrug, completely over him if it wasn’t for the embarrassment of it all.

“Mistake?” He asked, you catch the hurt washing over his face.

“Mhm, one big mistake that I’ll never make again.” You smile at him, milking your revenge for everything it was worth.

“Oh,” he said softly before you shrugged and walked away.

SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop was kind of like a big deal because of how good-looking he was. So when you walked into class looking like the next Miss Oklahoma rumours started to spread about how the hottest girl and guy would get together. Soda approached you during lunch, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Hey, Y/n”. You narrowed your eye before speaking.

“Uh, hi.”

“I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to go to the drive-in with me tomorrow?” He asked. You nearly choked on your own spit.

“Hell no!” You laughed and Soda looked shocked.

“What?”

“I said no, now can you move? You’re in my way” You said before shoulder checking him while walking off.

STEVE RANDLE

Steve had seen you walking down the road looking prettier than the morning sun and was absolutely stunned by how much brighter and happier you looked. Your hair was perfect and so was your skin. He wanted to talk to you but he was too scared, so when he went home he immediately dialed up your number on the nearest pay-phone.

“Hello?” Your voice rang out from the phone and Steve smiled.

“Hey Y/n, uh, it’s me Steve, I saw you walking down the road but was too nervous to talk to you…anyways, would you like to maybe go out sometime?” He rambled into the phone, expecting you to jump on his offer like you would’ve when you confessed. Instead you just sighed,

“Pussy” and the phone clicked signalling that you hung up, leaving him standing there in shock.

TWO BIT MATTHEWS

You had always admired Two-Bit’s humor, but now it was too much. He was going around town telling people how he always knew you’d end up pretty and that you were going to practically run back into his arms when he asks you out. You cringed just thinking about ‘running into his arms’. So when you saw Two-Bit walking with his gang you took your chance.

“Two-Bit!” You called from across the street, running over to him. You watched as his guys hyped him up and he nudged them with an ‘I told you so’ look.

“Hey Y/n, how’s it been?”

“Good! Been hearing a lot about you recently.” You feigned a smile.

“Really? Like what?” he smirked.

“Like the fact you're telling people that I'd got ‘running into your arms if you gave me the chance’! Which is why I'm actually talking to you right now, I’d like to clear the air and say I'm totally over you. I know my league and you are definitely below it! Bye!” You giggled before running off, leaving him standing in shock with his gang.

DARRY CURTIS

You had known Darry in high-school. He was popular and you were not, so it made sense that he rejected you. However when you saw him approaching you at the drive in, the pain and embarrassment came crashing back down on you.

“Y/n,” he said to you, as if testing the waters. You nodded in his direction before turning your attention back towards the screen.

“How have you been, you, uh, you look good.” He said awkwardly and you glance at him.

“I'm fine.” You tensed up when he sat next to you.

“Hey, uh, do you….are you free next week?” He asked hopefully and you scoffed.

“Hell no”

“Really Y/n? Is this all because I rejected you?” You glared at him, livid over the fact that he would bring that up. “Look, I was under a lot of pressure.. I'm sorry”

“Doesn't make it hurt any less.” You mumbled before getting out of your seat and leaving the drive in.

DALLAS WINSTON

Dally only likes pretty chick's, and you learned that after he whistled at you as you passed. You of course returned the favor by shouting a harsh ‘fuck off!’ which left him open-mouthed in shock.

“Y/n?” he asked, a grin starting to form on his face.

“What,” you glared at him, eyes narrowing in anger.

“Damn, you look good!” He said, taking a step closer to you and examining you.You got pissed and pushed him back away from you.

“What? I'm just tryna compliment you!” He said, stumbling back.

“Fuck off, Dallas. I mean it.” You snapped at him before stalking away.

[mikahakkinenn]

Scuderia Ferrari: This is an Old Story

Credits

Phillip Glass - Einstein on the Beach / Richard Siken - War of Foxes / Jayne Cortez - Collage for Romare Bearden / John Greenleaf Whittier - My Triumph / Matthew Morgan - "Fire of Love" : On living and dying well / Sholeh Wolpé - The World Grows Blackthorn Walls / Anaïs Mitchell - Road to Hell & Road to Hell (Reprise)