#ten minutes in one of my cousins looks at me and says 'you like the magnus archives right?'

[continuousmeowing]

i just had the most wonderful evening of my life. family dinners can actually be fun sometimes.

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

random percy headcanons:

wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.

literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck

his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)

he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it

will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs

the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.

he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it

percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao

back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone

has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on

weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like

shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao

bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born 🥺

can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao

gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.

movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(

percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake

he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it

has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks

grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic

has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.

he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao

he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence

called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week

the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured

has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him

he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.

he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class

currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!

its his birthday<3

[r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e]

idk i’ve been thinking for the last day about modern day corroded coffin, semi-successful in the local music scene, did a self-funded tour through six states last fall where they all lived in the van together and didn’t shower for four weeks, has a standing gig at the dive bar next to the highway and the strip club, they’re established, they have a small but dedicated local following, they —

“can’t play a WEDDING, are you fucking with me?” eddie says, when gareth shows him the text from his cousin who’s getting married in two weeks and who, as of last night, has no wedding band because they accidentally double booked themselves and gareth’s cousin had sent the deposit in late.

“i’ve explained to him so many times,” gareth says, furiously texting his cousin back, “we’re not that kind of band—”

except gareth’s cousin, instead of responding directly to gareth’s text outlining the musical thesis of corroded coffin or watching the youtube link gareth sends to the show last month where eddie got a black eye in the pit from someone in an inflatable garfield costume, just sends back —

“holy shit,” eddie croaks, looking at the string of zeros on the end of the number gareth’s cousin offers me to pay them in exchange for saving his ass and his wedding and his marriage, since his fiancé was demanding a live band. “that’s—”

“three months of rent for each of us,” gareth says, awed. “that’s buy actual fresh vegetables money. that’s go to the dentist money—”

“yeah, okay, give him my number,” eddie says.

so they spend the next two weeks practicing every white people wedding song they can think of. there’s no way they’ll be able to do, like, get low, tragically, but they can pull off the classics, especially after they bring chrissy onboard for vocals and keyboard. there are places where eddie draws the line — no fucking journey or especially insipid top 40 — but they can do some whitney. abba. fucking — mr. brightside. a lot of it is pretty simple, when you get down to it, “and people will be wasted anyway,” jeff reminds them. there’s an open bar at the six figure venue gareth’s cousin booked. hopefully everyone will be too hyped just hearing the opening baseline to i want you back to notice if they fumble anything hard.

rehearsal montage, chrissy takes the boys to the mall to buy suits montage (except for gareth who, like most transmasc dudes, already has a custom fitted and tailored suit ready to go in his closet; instead he makes catty remarks about brian’s tie choices.) chrissy makes eddie put his hair up and eddie makes jeff shave the experimental mustache he’s been growing and eventually the day of the wedding arrives and they load up the van and drive 45 minutes to the six figure waterfront reception venue.

they riff for about ten minutes while the whole wedding party makes their grand entrance into the massive tent set up on the lawn, ending with gareth’s cousin and his new wife dancing in, the whole crowd screaming and clapping. it’s cute, eddie thinks, vamping as long as he can while gareth’s cousin’s best man takes the mic and introduces the new couple and directs everyone to their seats for dinner.

and meanwhile: best man is frankly one of the hottest dudes eddie’s ever seen. he’s got longish brown hair that he keeps pushing out of his eyes, full lips, an insane shoulder to waist ratio, big hands. eddie sneak looks at him while they play a bunch of low key jazzy standards for people to eat their expensive dinner to. he’s sitting with his arm around the shoulders of a girl with shaggy auburn hair, and they keep leaning in to whisper to each other and giggle, so. oh well. but it doesn’t hurt to look, eddie thinks, watching the guy take his suit jacket off and roll up his sleeves and make a toast to gareth’s cousin and his new wife’s long and joyful marriage.

once most people have had their plates cleared away jeff turns to eddie and the rest of the band and nods, once, and while chrissy plays the opening synth chords to i wanna dance with somebody, jeff turns his front man showmanship deal all the way up.

it’s good. people are fucking hyped, so they throw themselves into it, feeding off the crowd’s energy, and almost no one is more hyped than mr. best man. he’s jumping up and down, his arms around gareth’s cousin and his wife. he knows every word to dancing in the dark (hot). when they transition into robyn’s dancing on my own he turns to the girl with auburn hair and points at her and screams. cute, eddie thinks, watching best man pick her up and spin her around while she downs her wine and shouts along. okay, really fucking hot, eddie thinks, when he finally pulls his loosened tie all the way off and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and eddie can see a hint of chest hair peeking out.

they slow it down for the first dance. it’s the leon bridges one everyone always does, but it’s perfect in jeff’s range, and there is not a single dry motherfucking eye in the audience. they do a couple more slow ones, throughout the night. best man dances with his girlfriend and then gareth’s grandmother and then with every child under the age of 10, letting them stand on his shoes while he twirls them around. how is this guy fucking real, eddie thinks, which of course is when best man notices eddie looking right at him and their eyes meet. best man looks a little flustered, at first, and then grins at eddie, right at him, before spinning the flower girl around in dizzying circles.

jesus christ, eddie thinks.

they’re closing out the night on the only other request gareth's cousin gave them: the one from the end of dirty dancing. jeff thanks the crowd, offers his congratulations to gareth’s cousin, and then goes right into it. except as jeff sings the first line everyone absolutely loses their shit, turning to best man and jumping around him and one of the bridesmaids. what the fucking hell, eddie thinks, keeping one ear on jeff and chrissy’s duet and one ear on the crowd piling around best man “—you guys HAVE to, dude, you’ve GOT to—“ but whatever it is he has to do is not immediately apparent to eddie. best man dances in a circle with the rest of the wedding party and auburn hair and the bride and groom, shout-singing along, and then during the build up to the second prechorus gareth’s cousin’s wife and her bridesmaids start pushing everyone to the sides of the dance floor, so there’s a long space in the middle, so the bridesmaid with curly dark hair is at one end and best man is at the other end and oh my god is he actually going to —

the bridesmaid runs and then launches herself at best man, who lifts her perfectly, right on cue at the peak of the second chorus, his hands steady on her hips while she floats her arms out in front of her just like jennifer grey. they hold it for a few moments while everyone loses their fucking minds and takes a thousand pictures. eddie actually takes his hand off his guitar for a minute. he thinks his mouth is open. he can see the muscles in best man’s arms flexing under his white button up shirt as he carefully lowers the bridesmaid back to the ground, laughing, his eyes scrunched up in joy.

eddie is maybe a little bit in love.

they close it out. the whole crowd whistles and stomps and applauds for them, which feels pretty good, eddie’s not gonna lie. as they start packing it up and high fiving each other and a couple people come over to ask if they have a card, if they’re still booking for next year or the year after (what?) gareth’s cousin comes over and hugs every single one of them, almost in tears, and then adds another 2k to the check he writes for them. eddie pulls out his cigarettes right then and there.

“steve, come meet the band,” he yells, when steve and auburn hair walk past. “gareth saved my whole ass, oh my god —“

“you guys were fucking incredible,” steve says, grinning, shaking gareth’s hand. “best wedding band i’ve heard in years —“

“they’re not even a wedding band!” gareth’s cousin shouts. “they’re like metal — moshing — thrash, i don’t know, LOUD—“

“whoa,” steve says. he pushes his hair out of his eyes and then turns that blinding smile right on eddie. eddie feels struck by it, wants to stagger back like he’s taken an actual blow. “cool, so you guys — play locally, or —?”

“oh my god,” his girlfriend says, rolling her eyes; steve elbows her in the side.

“i like your guitar,” steve says, gesturing at the warlock eddie’s still holding in his non-cigarettes hand.

“oh, uh, thanks,” eddie says.

“it’s a cool shape,” steve says, stepping closer, flicking his eyes down and then back up to meet eddie’s. there’s sweat gathered along his hairline, dampening the ends of his hair. behind him, his girlfriend coughs something loudly that sounds vaguely like slut.

eddie feels his eyebrows go way up.

“uh, thanks, shapes are. you know. shapes are great,” eddie says, nonsensical. he sees gareth shoot him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye.

“can i bum one?” steve says, looking down to the cigarettes in eddie’s hand.

“totally,” eddie says. “let me just—“ he holds the warlock aloft and gestures to the open guitar case.

“sure,” steve says. he waits around while eddie hustles through getting his shit sorted out and then turns away politely while eddie has a silent desperate telepathic conversation with the rest of the boys, who roll their eyes and make their way over to the still open, still free bar.

where auburn hair is standing and talking to chrissy, putting a hand on chrissy’s arm while she laughs at something chrissy says.

hm, eddie thinks.

“so,” eddie says, walking out from under the tent with steve, down towards the water, awash in the moonlight. he holds out his cigarettes. “you like springsteen?”

[bluejutdae]

best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Hyunjin x you

Chan , Minho, Changbin, Jisung , Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin.

a/n: finally I managed to write the last part of this series, the Hyunjin part! There’s not much “saving” here because I had this dramatic idea in my head and I didn’t want to renounce to it. Enjoy!

The rain outside has been incessant for days, so many that it started to be difficult to recognize the time of the day just by looking at the sky. Everything it’s gray, and you almost forgot about this date. The guy is the cousin of one of your colleagues, and you would have canceled it if only you had a bit more hope. Not on this date, you know it’s gonna end up with you telling the guy it’s not the time for you for a relationship or some other fake excuse, you’ll apologize for wasting his time and the truth is: you do feel sorry for wasting his time, but staying home knowing Hyunjin is probably out there kissing his girlfriend and having fun made you a bit selfish. You ignored him for the last 5 days, after he called you at 2 am and you couldn’t help it but hope it meant something. But what would it mean? You’ll never know, cause you didn’t answer.

Your heartache clings to you like molasses, covers you head to toes, you can feel it under your teeth. You’re so used to it, it doesn’t scare you anymore. But it’s so tiring to wake up everyday and do the same routine: wear your clothes, slip in your shoes, put on your grief, grab your purse. Day after day.

The restaurant you’re having your date at is a nice one, you often order takeout from it. The only downside is that it doesn’t deliver home, so anytime you want its amazing food, you have to get out of your house and come collect it. It’s worth it.

Shivering in your cute top, you nod to something your date just said and reach for the wine glass. You have nothing in common with him, you barely remember his name. Was it Minjoon? Minhyun? Once again something distracts you from the conversation (it’s a monologue, at this point) when you hear your phone chime, signaling a message. And since love is blind, and most days it’s also stupid, you can clearly recognize the tune you use for Hyunjin and Hyunjin only.

You have been ignoring him, but you were sure he didn’t even notice. Ten minutes pass and you’re on the verge of just leaving the date, apologize profusely and go home to cry. The bell on the door chimes as someone enters and, once again not paying attention to the man in front of you, your eyes wanders to look at whoever enters. It could have been a couple grabbing dinner, it could have been parents celebrating their kid’s success, it could have been anyone. But just as love is blind, so is luck. Because it’s Hyunjin who just entered the restaurant, and it’s Hyunjin looking directly at you, eyebrows knit in a frown and a sour expression distorting his lips. You’re frozen in your seat, watching him shaking his head, speaking with a waiter, collecting his dinner and leaving. You can't have him leave like this. Something in your gut is telling you it’s now or never, if you let him go now, you might as well let him go forever. And you’re not ready for that.

In a blur of apologies and confused sentences you leave your share of money on the tablecloth and, grabbing your purse, you flee the restaurant. It doesn’t matter that you left your jacket on the back of your chair, it doesn’t matter that’s it’s pouring outside, it matters only your voice calling his name.

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t stop, keeps on waking under the rain, head down and fast steps. You start doing that awkward running walk, reaching to grab his wrist. This effectively makes him stop, but he looks displeased.

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”

“You’re on a date.” He frees himself from your grasp, almost like your touch burns him.

“So?”

“So you’re having dinner with another man. Why would I interrupt?”

“Because you always come say ‘hi’ when you meet me by chance.”

“Not when you’re on a date!” He snips. You’re still both under the rain. For a moment you wonder why he hasn’t insisted on moving under a covering. You haven’t because the cold rain is soothing your nerves, soothing the pain you feel anytime you’re too close to him. Did Icarus feel like this when he was soaring too close to the sun? Did he wish for the rain when the scorching wax burned his skin? Did he love the freedom so much he reveled in the pain, hating it at the same time?

“I never go on dates!”

“Clearly, you do.”

You sigh, “this was my first date in 4 years, Hyune.”

“And I didn’t know you had a date, wanna guess why? Because you ignored me for days!” He uses his free hand to push back the strands of hair that fell on his face, dripping wet.

“I thought you were busy. Last time we talked you were really focused on getting ready to meet your girlfriend. Why would I interrupt that?” He’s baffled, and rightly so. In the past, you had no qualms about texting him at all hours.

“Well, I was focused”, you can hear his mocking tone. When did this transform into a fight? “because I was meeting her to put an end to our relationship, because I realized I’ll never be in love with her because I am crazy in love with you. And I tried to call you because I needed to tell you so, I needed to know I did the right thing. I thought this wasn’t one sided. And yet you ignored me and- fuck” he laughs disheartened. “-and went on a date with another man.”

“I- you, what?” You blink rapidly, drops of rain blurring your sight. “You broke up with her? For…” you can’t say it. You can’t bring yourself to say ‘for me’, because it’d make it real. And it could be the best thing or the worst thing. Or both, at the same time. Did Icarus ever think he’d succeed? Did he ever consider he could fly, escape and be free; or did he -like you- only ever imagined failure in front of him? Was he like you, swimming stroke after stroke towards something, wishing for the best but never thinking it could come true? There’s a certain push that animates the despairings, there’s no fight or flight response. There’s only the pilgrimage towards the unreachable goal.

“For you.”

A beat passes. Another. Another one.

“Since when?”

“Since you held my hand after that nightmare. Since I realized I'm not scared when I’m with you.”

There’s something they don’t tell you about desperation, about wanting something so bad that you can feel it missing from your own body. For weeks, for months, you get used to the longing, the yearning. When you can finally wrap your hands around his shoulder, when you can press your lips against his and hear him utter a soft groan, all that you used to feel transforms into electricity, it runs through your whole body and sets you aflame from the inside. This kind of burning, though? It’s a welcomed feeling.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#391

“What? You think you are done faggot?  Get back into place.  I said, ‘Faggot, get back into place.’  No, no, no, you ain’t Kevin no more, not after I saw four men take turns spit roasting you.  You are Faggot from this point on.  Now it’s my turn to bust my nut….

“This changes everything between us.  About time it does.  I’m tired of hearing about Jesus.  When my right-wing cousin asked me to take the 20-year-old son of a friend of hers along with me to see if he would like truck driving, I was reluctant.  She told me you were a quiet boy who needed to come out of a shell.  I filled out all the paperwork with the company so you could ride with me. 

“Bend over the picnic table with your cunt pointing at that garbage can.

“When we met, I knew you were a faggot right away.  You followed me into the men’s room.  I started to get a boner right there.  I saw you glancing at my dick at the urinals.  I knew it was going to be a great two weeks together.  But not ten minutes in my cab, I was hearing how much you love Jesus, and I knew this was not going to be good.  And we hadn’t even started rolling.

“Now pull apart your cunt lips and push some jiz out. 

“So before we left, I called my cousin.  She told me that you are the son of her Baptist preacher and it would be a great favor to her to take you out and show you real America.  Now my cousin doesn’t know that I’m a total fag fucker.  So instead, I called two of my fellow drivers, Barry and Jimmy.  You just met them; Barry was the first and Jimmy was the third guy to spit roast you.  We drive for the same company on the same route on the same day.  As you are Barry’s type, he wanted you ASAP.  That’s why we are here at this rest area.  That and this spot has this picnic table out back away from the eyes of the casual traveler.

“Push some more out.  I want a good glob on my cock head.  Damn, this cunt has been used before.  And I’m not even talking about just today.  It’s obvious that you also have experience in servicing and serving men.  Your second fucker was this trucker that followed you and Barry back here.  And he was slapping your face when Barry was plowing your cunt.  And it wasn’t a love tap; it was a man properly using and abusing a faggot.  He even used a fistful of you your hair as a handle.  You seemed to take that roughness like it was nothing.

“So, I can reach over and pull you off the picnic table and push you on your knees….  Like that.  Faggot, this is natural for you, isn’t it?...  Where did you learn that you need to be treated like shit?... 

“…You met older men from those kink sites?...  …So I have a faggot to use as my personal cunt for the next few weeks?

“That face slap is for not addressing me with respect.  That’s ‘Yes Master.’  You refer to all men as ‘Sir.’  You got that faggot?...  I’m really going to like smacking you around. 

“See that glob of driver cum on my dick head?  Using only the tip of your tongue, scoop it in your mouth, but don’t swallow it.

“Now say, ‘I am a faggot whore whose only existence is to be abused by real men.  I live for cock and cum….’  …Say it again…. …Again…

“You got me leaking.  Turn your head to face the garbage can.  I want to wipe my pre-cum on your cheek.  Swallow that spunk and keep saying it.

“That’s good.  Mmmm.  Now say that you want to be abused without mercy….  And say that you don’t want to have a safe word….  So you do not want to have any say of what I plan on doing to you, and that your pleas to stop must be ignored….  Don’t look back at me; say it to the garbage can, cause that’s what you are, garbage.

“…Good that’s done.  Now suck on my dick.

“Listen up faggot.  I was talking with that second driver—the one that roughed you up while Barry was plowing your cunt.  He left back here and made a bee line to his cab.  When he came out, he looked pissed.  He had a belt already doubled up, and he was heading back here to beat the shit out of you. 

“I stopped him.  He was pissed at you.  He recognized you.  He showed me his phone.  It had a news article with a pic of you standing next to your father as your preacher father was going into the state’s senate to fights against gays.  Now I tend to stay out of politics, but even I know of your dad’s name. 

“I told him that you were being fucked by Jimmy and that random fourth guy that came out of nowhere.  He wondered how I knew the details of what was going on as this area isn’t seen from the parking lot….

“I told him to look at my phone.  Faggot, pull off my cock and look up.  Damn, you are one hungry cunt.  You don’t care about anything I have to say.  That would explain why you don’t seem interested in how I knew about everything and every guy you were doing back here.

“If you look at my phone you will see a faggot kneeling in front of a man, both next to a picnic table.  That faggot is you….  Yes, I have been watching you through my phone.  The camera is located inside the opening to the garbage can there.

“Now it’s hitting you.  Yeah, I told Barry to come up here and set it up.  He has a lot of cameras in his truck.  He streams his fuck sessions in his cab and makes a shit load of money on-line.  By default, he has a copy of the video and so do I.  So going after my phone won’t do you no good.  So get back on your knees.

“It’s interesting, I did this to blackmail you into being my total bitch the seventeen days you are with me and to get you to stop with the religious shit.  Barry was definitely game, as likes young fags like you.  Jimmy just likes to fuck.  This here was going to be a simple picnic table fuck.

“That all changed when Chuck—that would be the second driver—showed me his phone….

“…Don’t fucking say another word.  I will smack you again.  You are in a shitty spot here.  First, you are naked as a rest stop, loaded up by four men, soon to be five with mine.  Don’t bother looking for your clothes.  Barry picked up your shit and put it in his cab; you were oblivious being spit roasted. 

“When you leave this area, you will walk back to a row of semis buck naked.  After my fat hog fucks you, your gape will be more pronounced, so you will have jiz running down your legs like some goddamned whore.  Next, you were filmed doing and saying nasty things, things your Papa wouldn’t approve.  So doing something stupid like running away is not going to go well for you, as that video can be edited to hide us but showcase your talents.  Videos are easy to disseminate.  You are kinda stuck in this situation, subject to whatever sexual whims that should come to mind.

“You are going to be filmed doing nasty shit going forward, but doing one video will have the same as ten.  You understand your predicament?...  Good.  Good.

“Now get up and lean over the picnic table.  I need to drop my seed.

“…Fuck, you are sloppy back here.  The guys stretched you out enough, so you aren’t strangling my dick.  And cum lube is the best….  Oh yeah, clamp down like that.  We need to be very quick.  There’s a timetable that needs to be met.  We all are meeting up at a particular spot up ahead for our 10-hour DOT rest. 

“The things that are planned for you...,  I’m getting close just thinking about it.  You are going to be used by so many men these next two weeks.

“Damn your hair was made to be used as a handle.  Arch your back.  Try almost to stand. 

“Fuck that feels good.  You ready for my load?  Of course you are.  You are cum dump faggot who lives to take load after load.  You don’t give a shit who is fucking you, just as long as they breed you.  You fucking slut.  You whore.

“I’m gonna cum.  I’m going to flood your guts with more cum.  When I am done, you are to clean me off like a good faggot.

“Get ready.  Here it cums!  Here it cums!  Here it fucking cums!  Ahhhh Ahhhhh Ahh!... Fuck!  Goddamn, your cunt is just what I needed.

“…Atta boy.  Tastes nasty hunh?  That’s the flavor of four men’s loads.  Yeah you are a fucking pig.  I knew it. 

“…Let’s head on out.  Hold on.  Let me get that camera from the garbage can.  …OK, let’s go.

“No. No.  You are walking in front of me.  I want whoever is in the parking lot to see a naked cum whore faggot.  Walk slowly.  Better yet.  I got a fistful of your hair.  I’ll control the pacing.

“Damn.  Everyone’s gone except for me and Chuck.  Barry split and he has your clothes… and probably your phone too.  Don’t worry, you’ll get it back tonight.

“Let’s go over to Chuck’s cab. 

“Hey Chuck!...  I got the faggot here for ya!  Naked and loaded up!  Are they going to be there?...  Fucking awesome!

“OK faggot get on up.  You are riding with Chuck for the rest of today….  Awww shut the fuck up.  I don’t care what you have to say.  Chuck has arranged to have a gay biker gang join us tonight.  His condition for arranging this was he gets you tied up in his cab for the day.  Seems like a fair exchange….

“…I said for you to shut up.  Keep insisting you have something important to say, and I’ll do a lot more than slam your faggot face against his cab. 

“Listen here shithead.  I don’t give a shit about you, or what happens to you.  I don’t give a fuck about my right-wing nutjob cousin.  And I don’t have any sympathy for your father and his evil fucked up ministry.

“I control what happens to you.  And you are going in the cab of a fellow fag fucking driver, a man I just met, a man that has bondage equipment installed inside, a man that knows a biker gang.  And I’m fine with all of it.

“Chuck, get down here.  The faggot needs convincing getting up into your cab.  Bring your belt.  I can stick around to help you turn this sissy girl black and blue….

“Change your mind?  Good.  Get up there.

“He’s all yours Chuck.

“I hope to catch you later faggot…  “…Oh faggot!  I forgot to say, ‘Praise Jesus!’”

This story continues in Story #396.

[hazbinwhoree]

Guardian angel pt.2? I'm already addicted to and love your stuff. Thx! :3

Guardian Angel

Part 2/3 Part 3

A/N: Can anyone guess how I’m gonna end it?

Even if Adam wanted to bring (Name) to the light, which he didn’t, the task would prove nearly impossible anyway. Because Adam was coming to learn that (Name) was quite the little sinner. In only one week, she exhibited each of the 7 Sins.

She got in a fight with her best friend and refused to apologize, even though it meant sacrificing their relationship. Pride.

She spent over a hundred dollars in one sitting online shopping for shit she didn’t need. Greed.

She spent ten minutes going through another girl’s social media page, making snide comments about her as she went. Envy.

She broke a lamp in a fit of rage over, well, Adam didn’t even know what her temper tantrum was about. Wrath.

She kicked Adam out so she could have some “Self Love Time” as she called it. Lust.

She was a glutton not of food, but of weed and alcohol, never satisifed unless she was not sober at least once during her day. Gluttony.

She would spend entire days rotting in her bed, neglecting all responsibilities. Sloth.

Long story short, Adam was pretty certain that were (Name) to die, she had herself a one way ticket down to Hell. The thought bothered Adam, and he realized that it really was up to him to make sure she got into Heaven.

“You’re sinful,” Adam blurted out one day while (Name) was listening to CPR by cupcakKe. (Name) paused the music. “It’s the song, isn’t it.”

“No… well, yes, but not just the song. I’ve seen you commit every single fucking one of the 7 Sins just this week. How do you expect to get into Heaven like that?”

“I don’t,” (Name) shrugged, going to unpause her music.

“You don’t care about going to Hell?” Adam was flabbergasted.

“Not particularly.”

“Well I’m your guardian angel, sweetie, so it’s my job to help you get into Heaven.”

“Really? Cause I don’t even know how you made it into Heaven. Their standards must be pretty low, I have a chance.”

“Oh eat shit,” Adam snapped, narrowing his eyes.

(Name) smirked.

“Have you heard of the Seven Heavenly Virtues?” Adam asked. (Name) looked bored. “I’ve heard of them… don’t know what they are.” “Well you’re going to do something that encompasses each one this week.”

And Lucifer be damned, Adam managed to get her to do something for every virtue.

She apologized to her best friend and they began to repair their relationship. Humility.

She gave a bunch of clothes she didn’t need to her younger cousin. Charity.

She left positive comments on that girl’s social media page. Kindness.

She did breathing exercises the next time she got angry instead of destroying her surroundings. Patience.

She stopped her copious amount of weed and alcohol consumption. Temperance.

She stayed on top of her responsibilities and began taking her job more seriously. Diligence.

Adam was proud of both her, and himself for getting her to do these things. Maybe she had a chance to get into Heaven yet.

“Why is it so important to you that I get into Heaven?” (Name) asked one night at dinner. Adam paused eating. “Uh, cause it’s my job, bitch.” (Name) rolled her eyes. “Yeah but you didn’t start doing your job until recently. What changed?”

“Maybe I never want to have to say goodbye.”

(Name) hadn’t been expecting such a confession. “You want me to go to Heaven… to be with you?”

Adam scowled, embarrassed. “No.”

They fell into awkward silence.

“For what it’s worth,” (Name) said. “I wouldn’t mind spending eternity with you.”

[atimeofyourlife]

A family Thanksgiving

This was supposed to be up yesterday, but it took on a mind of its own and instead of the few hundred words it was supposed to be, its nearly 3k. Happy belated Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates! rated: t | wc: 2847 | cw: period typical homophobia, Steve's asshole parents

The offers from everyone to have him over for Thanksgiving had been great, any other year he would have loved such a choice, but for the first time in a long time, he was spending the day with family.

"But you hate your family." Dustin pointed out when Steve had told everyone about his holiday plans.

"No, I hate my parents. It's my grandma that asked me to go, and I want to see her and my cousins that I haven't seen in like five years. I'm driving myself to Chicago, so I won't be stuck in a car with my parents for hours on end." Steve explained.

"But you're working a late the day before, and I'm not going to cover you so you can drive up early" Robin replied.

"I'm planning on leaving by six on Thanksgiving morning. It's less than four hours to drive, so I'll be there before ten, well nine because of the timezone change. I took the late shift the day before so I had an excuse to drive myself, and my parents wouldn't have any reason to come by Hawkins before. And I drive home either the Friday or the Saturday, ready for our Sunday shift."

Come Thanksgiving day, Steve was somewhat regretting his decision. It had been nearly midnight before he'd gotten home, after a number of people came in just before closing insistent on needing a selection of movies ready for the next day. Then hadn't been happy when the movies they wanted weren't in stock, so they left the place a total mess, causing Steve to stay late to tidy up ready for the opener the next day. Then having to get up around five, so he could get ready and be on track to leave as planned. In an attempt to wake up, he was mostly surviving on a large cup of incredibly strong coffee. He was just counting down the minutes until he could get there.

When he walked in the door, he was immediately wrapped up in a hug from his grandma. "Stevie, it's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too, Grandma." He returned the hug, melting into it a little. Exactly what he needed after the year it had been.

"Let me take a look at you." She stepped back slightly, giving him a once over. Her hand came up to trace the scar still on his neck from where he had been strangled by the bats and vines. "What happened here?"

"I. It's nothing. It looks a lot worse than it is." Steve replied, trying to get out of the awkwardness of the conversation.

"Oh, if you're sure. If you want to help with dinner, you can join us in the kitchen. But if you just want to rest, anyone who's watching football is in the living room, and the Macy's parade is on in the den."

"It's been a long drive, and I had a late finish last night, so I think I'm going to take a bit of a break. I might come out and help a bit later." He offered.

"Oh, honey. If you don't feel up to it, you don't need to help at all. Take it easy, and we'll call you once everything is ready." She kissed Steve on the cheek, before going back to the kitchen.

Steve made his way through the house, glancing into the living room as he passed. He could see his dad in one of the recliners, and decided against joining them. Wanting to delay the inevitable "you're a disappointment" lecture. He knew his mom would likely be in the kitchen, not actually helping, just drinking wine and gossiping. He moved on to the den, where most of his cousins were. He hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure what to say. So much had changed since the last time he had seen any of them.

"Wait, Stevie?" One of them, Lizzie, said as she looked up to see him.

"Uh, hey?" Steve replied, a little unsure, before he was being swamped in a group hug.

"Jesus Christ, when did this happen? Last time I saw you, you were like a little kid. Now you're a whole grown adult." Another, Mark, said.

After a long catch up, bringing Steve up to date on everyone else's lives, and him giving an abridged highlights of his last few years, they then got into more serious topics.

"Was everything okay after the earthquakes? I tried calling a few times, but I don't know if I had the wrong number because it never went through." Alice, the oldest of his cousins, asked.

"The phones were down across the whole town for a while after, then it was patchy for weeks after that. It was hard to get five or ten minutes without it dropping out. It took me like two weeks before I was able to get hold of mom and dad to let them know that the house was still standing, and that I was still alive." Steve explained.

"Wait, they weren't in Hawkins for the earthquakes?" Harry cut in.

"No, they've not been in Hawkins since February? Like over a month before it happened."

"Oh. They were telling us last night about how awful and hard it had been during the earthquakes, and how they were scared for their lives." Alice replied.

"That's such bullshit. They weren't in the country when it happened, they were in London. They didn't even know that it was Hawkins that was affected until I called them, because all they'd seen on the news was a freak earthquake hitting the Midwest. It hadn't even specified the state. And then they didn't care how I was, if I was hurt or anything, all they were interested in was if there was damage to the house, and how the earthquake could affect the resale value."

"Okay, I call dibs about bringing that up over dinner. I just want to see what shade of purple Uncle Dick can turn." Becca, the closest cousin to Steve in age, piped up. "But were you hurt?"

"Uh, minor injuries. Nothing serious." Steve lied, not wanting to worry anyone. "I was able to start volunteering within a couple of days. You know, helping out at the relief center, helping search for missing people. And when everything calmed down I was helping rebuild and stuff. Just trying to do my bit. But I'm fine now."

"That's good. But thinking of Uncle Dick turning purple, who gets to bring up Fuck Reagan?" Mark asked.

"Stevie's been through the most, I think he should get the chance." Alice replied.

"Uh, I think that would go down about as well as if I told him that my best friend is a dyke and I've spent most of my free time in the last six months sucking off the local drug dealer, who was accused of being a cult leader and murdering three people." Steve said quickly, unsure if he wanted anyone else to pick up what he'd said.

"Was that for drugs, or for fun, or what? Like a hook up?" Harry asked.

"He's my boyfriend. I mean, it helps that I get free weed out of him, but I'd do it anyway." Steve admitted.

"That is something you missed out of your round up. But I love that all of us are some variation of queer."

Dinner was...interesting, to say the least. After saying Grace, they went round the table to say what they were thankful for that year. Steve had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing as his parents waxed on and on about how they were thankful for their lives and being able to escape the earthquake unscathed. He couldn't keep from laughing when Becca spoke up against them.

"Really? Because Alice asked Steve how he found it after the earthquakes, and he said that he couldn't reach you for two weeks after it happened because the phones were down and you were in London. And you didn't even know that it had hit Hawkins until he called you."

"Steven, why are you telling lies about us?" His mother demanded.

"I wasn't? You weren't in Hawkins when the earthquake hit. You've not been there since February. When I was finally able to call you, you only cared about how the house was, not if I was hurt. And you were pissed that I hadn't called you sooner, despite the fact the phone lines were down for the whole town. I could have died or been injured in hospital, and you wouldn't have known."

"How dare-" His father started, only to be cut off by Steve's grandmother.

"Settle down. There's no need for arguing. I am inclined to believe Steve, because I do remember you telling me that you were going to be spending a few months in Europe at the start of this year."

Both of Steve's parents were visibly unhappy, but they didn't push it any further, allowing the rest of the family to talk about what they were thankful for.

Many small conversations broke out over the table, Steve loving the feeling of being surrounded by family for the first time in a long time. He got pulled into talking to different people, but he did his best to avoid his parents' eye. Not wanting to get trapped by them telling him all the ways he had bothered them since he'd last seen them. But he knew they were up to something, when his father got up before dessert was served.

"Before we have anything else, we do have a big announcement about the future of our family." He said, using the voice he always used when talking to the most important clients.

"You've sucked enough political dick to get what ever tax exemption you were after?" Lizzie asked, before anyone could take it too seriously.

Steve's dad just spluttered in anger as a call of "Elizabeth." Came from at least four different people around the table.

"Ignoring that horrible interruption. What I was going to tell everyone is about Steven's imminent engagement. He is going to be proposing to Melissa Downey, the daughter of my business partner, at Christmas, they've been seeing each other for nearly eighteen months now, and it is going to mean big things for our family."

Steve couldn't respond, processing what had just been said, as everyone started speaking, some offering congratulations, others in confusion.

"That's news to me." Steve said loudly, to get over everyone's voices, once he could form the words. "I'm not planning on proposing to anyone."

"Well, Arthur and I have been discussing it, and it is the only thing that makes sense now, the two of you have been together for long enough, the logical next step is engagement."

"I'm not dating Melissa. We went on one date over a year ago, just after I graduated. It was awful, all she was interested in was if I made enough money to bankroll her spending addiction. I made up a fake emergency to get out of it, and I would rather stick forks in my eyes than suffer through that again." Steve got to his feet, bracing his hands on the table. Knowing he'd been right not to be optimistic that the holiday could pass without incident.

"You will if you know what's good for you. If you don't, it could destroy our business. You wouldn't want to be the reason we go broke, would you? You could end up homeless. Where would you live?"

"First, I have plenty of friends who would be happy to take me in if I had nowhere else to go. It's something we talked about after the earthquake, because some people I know did have damage caused to their homes and I let them stay with me until they could move back in. Second, I don't really care about whether or not you go broke. You don't provide any money to me. You haven't since I started working at Scoops. I pay for all my food, gas, clothes. If you go broke, my financial position won't change at all. And third, I can't propose to her. I'm in a relationship, and we're both very happy."

"Is it that Buckley girl? Or did you somehow manage to convince that Wheeler girl that you're actually worth something? Because I can tell you now, you are going to break up with whatever little slut-"

"His name is Eddie." Steve shouted before he could think it through, and a silence fell across the room. "That's right. Your son is one of those awful queers that you keep campaigning against, to keep them illegal and get them locked up. And you know what? He's easily the best sex I've ever had. Especially when we get high first."

"Why you-" His father roared, his face turning a dark red in anger. "How dare you do this to us? After everything we have done for you. You'd better hope that those friends of yours would be willing to take you in, because you are not living under my roof any longer. You will have until the end of the weekend to collect your belongings, anything left will be burned."

"Except, it isn't your roof, is it Richard? If I remember correctly, I was the one who paid the mortgage. My name is the one on the deed to the property in Hawkins. I just allowed you to live there, rent-free might I add, because it made sense for you to live somewhere close to Indianapolis when your business was taking off. I had been planning to sell up. So I think maybe you should be the one to collect your belongings from that house, because I'm not sure if I want you living under my roof any longer. It sounds life you're almost never there, anyway." Steve's grandma replied.

"But, mother-" His father started.

"But nothing, Richard. I don't know where you learnt your hateful attitude, because I know I did not raise you to be the sort of man that would kick your own son out over something as minor as who he loves. I really thought you were a better man than that."

"It's disgusting." Steve's mother added. "So unnatural, and that disease."

"What is disgusting is your bigotry. I think I want you both out from under my roof, now. So, if you would both kindly leave. And I expect you to move your belongings from the house in Hawkins, as that is now Steve's house, not yours. And you better not touch anything that isn't yours, or cause any damage, because I will take legal advice." Steve's grandmother stood up, anger radiating from her tiny five foot frame. "And, unless you change and apologize for your outdated beliefs, you can forget any inheritance. I will not have any of my money going to support hatred."

"Mother,"

"Leave, Richard. Now. I'm not afraid to get the police involved here."

Steve's parents looked at him with their faces filled with utter disgust, before they turned and left. His grandmother escorting them off the property.

"Are you okay, Stevie?" His grandmother asked after the end of the meal.

"I. I think so. I think I need to make a couple of phone calls." He replied.

"Use any of the phones, dear. Maybe if you know someone who can keep an eye on the house."

"Yeah. I babysit for the chief of police sometimes, so I might call him. He'll make sure nothing happens."

"Good. And, if you're talking to that boy of yours, tell him that he's got to come up here for Christmas. I want to meet him, and make sure he's good enough for you."

"Grandma." Steve protested.

"I'm just saying." She replied before walking away.

Steve shut himself in one of the bedrooms, for a little privacy from the still crowded house while he made the calls. The call to Hopper was quick, just outlining what was going on, and Hopper agreed to keep a check on the house until Steve was back in Hawkins. Then it was the call to Eddie.

"Baby, I wasn't expecting you to call. How's your Thanksgiving?"

"Interesting. My parents decided to announce that I was going to propose to dad's business partner's daughter. They wouldn't accept that I wasn't interested in her so I accidentally came out."

"Shit, I hope that didn't go too bad?"

"Uh, it could have gone worse? Somehow me coming out got my parents removed from the will and kicked out of the house. Because my grandma wasn't happy with them being assholes about it."

"Oh, badass grandma. I kinda want to meet her now."

"I was hoping you would say something like that. Because she has told me that you have to come here for Christmas. She wants to make sure that you're good enough." Steve couldn't help smiling as he talked, somehow the day had gone so much better than he'd ever hoped.

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 31

summary: Mondays are Javier’s least favorite day. Add in he has a meeting he’s doing as a favor to the Sheriff that he doesn’t want to do, and the day was destined to be shitty. But things take a turn for the better that morning when he gets a text message from his fiancée that reads: Need u bad. Lunch? ;)

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, Protective Javier Peña, Angry Javier Peña (not at you), Switch Javier Peña (there’s subby Javi as a treat). first smut: masturbation (f), vibrators, accidental voyeurism, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, **BREEDING** (an actual attempt at babymaking). second smut: dry humping, coming in pants, semi-public sex? (it happens in a hospital). in both: dirty talk, praise | discussion of pregnancy, dysfunctional family, insults, yelling, arguing, angst with a happy ending, Javier meets your parents for the first time, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional hurt/comfort, Javier going off)

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

word count: 16k

a/n: The dirty talk in this one makes me 🫠🫠🫠. This chapter is something a lot of people have been waiting for. Thank you to everyone who comments and reblogs! I try to reply to them all, and if I miss any, it’s not on purpose and I’m sorry! The love so many people have for this silly story of mine makes me literally 😭😭😭. So, THANK YOU. We’ve got about nine chapters left after this one (could become more). Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for giving this a look over and ensuring my Spanish is correct. I love you.

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

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The New Year started with Javier’s big hands caressing your face as he kissed you, the Times Square ball having dropped on the nearby television in your best friend’s living room, where you were attending a party. He had tasted like cherry and orange jello from the Tequila Sunrise jello shot you convinced him to take with you a minute before midnight and smelled like his spicy cologne; the familiar scent had made you feel warm and safe—it had made you feel at home.

Javier Peña was your home.

He was your always and forever, the sun shining after it rained, a warm, cozy blanket on a cold day, the bright star that guides you through the darkness, and the greatest love you would ever have.

And he belonged to you as you belonged to him.

The New Year started with a kiss—one full of promises for the months ahead and shared hopes and dreams; your lips pressed together and moving in sync, silently proclaiming to the other your insurmountable love and undying devotion. And when it had ended, you wore matching grins, Javi's cheeks tinted in a lovely pink flush, his perfect full lips glistening under the room's lights from saliva while his beautiful chocolate-colored eyes gazed tenderly into yours, and he said, "Happy New Year, Cielito. I know it's gonna be a great fucking year because I have you—my best friend, the love of my life, and in ten days, my wife.”

Monday, January 4, started like any other Monday—the alarm going off and your fiancé hitting the snooze button so he could pull you into his arms and get nine minutes of uninterrupted cuddling in before the incessant beeping went off again. When your time was up, he sometimes, like this morning, grumbled as he moved to turn it off, "Fucking hate Mondays." This was why his coffee mug had Garfield the cat on it with a speech bubble containing the same sentiment, just without the cursing, but let’s be real, if that orange cartoon cat wasn’t censored, he’d absolutely say ‘fuck.’

In December, Javier’s prima (cousin) Alma—his tío’s (uncle’s) daughter and sister to Sebastián—was home from college and introduced you to something the kids had started doing: texting. You found this new form of communication came in handy when you were busy and didn’t have time to talk, like right this second as you stood in a storage room at work an hour into your shift with a bag of saline in your hand, your cell phone in the other sending Javi a message.

Your thumb punched the numbers on the keypad, typing: Need u bad. Lunch? ;)

The phone went back into your scrub pants pocket, and you started grabbing the other supplies you needed from the shelves. Seconds later, ringing sounded, making you sigh and have to juggle what you held into one arm to fish your cell phone out again, seeing he was calling from his office phone. You pressed the accept button, the device going to your ear as you answered in exasperation, “Why do you always call instead of texting back?”

“Because talking is easier than trying to type shit out with the keypad,” Javier replied. “Why do you send messages when you know I’m just going to call you?”

“My naive hope that you’ll get I’m too busy to talk.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll make it quick—is this a regular lunch quickie, or is it finally time…?” He sounded hopeful.

“With how I’m feeling a little crampy and insanely horny this morning, I’m pretty sure it’s time—like, the horniness is bad enough there’s no way I can wait until work is over.”

There was noticeable excitement in his voice. “Apartment or truck?”

As tempting as the truck was, you weren’t in the mood for the risk.

“Home.”

“Got it, and why is there extra punctuation after the question? Is it code or something? Should I know what it means?”

“Turn the phone sideways, and it looks like a winking face—I was trying to be flirty and cute with my request for dick.”

“Huh, I guess it does kinda look like a face…”

“I have to get back to work, babe. We’re meeting at home on lunch for you to fuck my brains out, got it?”

“Yes, Cielito—home on lunch to fuck a baby into you.”

“Perfect. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye, mi amor (my love).”

The device was put away, and you double-checked you got everything you needed for the new patient who’d just been brought to your department to recover from surgery. While in the patient’s room setting up their IV, you felt your pocket vibrate. After ensuring your new occupant was comfortable and not in need of anything, you left the room, looking at your phone as you walked down the hall and finding you had an unread text from Javi that you opened:

I love you and im excited for lunch ;)

It made you smile, and you replied back: Love u too. cant wait to see u <3

A few minutes after getting back to work, you felt the vibration of another message from him that ended up containing a question: What does <3 mean?

Robyn got a rushed 'See you in an hour' as you left for lunch in a hurry.

You didn't have road rage—it was more road annoyance when people were driving below the speed limit, didn't go as soon as the light turned green, or cut you off like that asshole who worked over at the hardware store did; what was his name? Jimmy? Jerry? Terry? It didn’t matter; he got a raised middle finger. When you pulled into your parking space at the apartment complex, Javi's spot beside yours was empty, and you booked it inside, kicking off your shoes once you got through the door, throwing your purse onto the console table in the entryway, along with your keys.

The thought of leaving the front door unlocked for Javi was squashed almost immediately with the reminder of him telling you always to keep it locked when he wasn't home—so you locked it, the deadbolt turning with a click.

When you told him you were insanely horny, it wasn’t an exaggeration—the horniness had your heartbeat pulsating in your cunt and made the scrubs you were wearing feel stifling over your heated skin, needing them off as soon as possible; your mind was consumed with all of the dirty things Javi could do to ease the ache between your legs—his thick fingers pushing into you and crooking them to hit that one spot only he could reach; his hips pounding into you from behind while rubbing your clit just right to make you come around him; his talented tongue and mouth working you over, licking and sucking on your wet heat with the finesse of a man devouring his first meal in weeks; his cock fucking into you nice and slow, feeling the stretch you couldn’t replicate with your fingers or a toy.

All those thoughts had you wanting Javier with every fiber of your being, and each passing second he wasn’t there was driving you crazy.

Walking toward the bedroom, you removed your clothes as you went, shimmying out of your pants, pushing down and off your panties, your blue scrub shirt getting tugged over your head next, followed by your white tank top, and finally, upon entering the room, your bra was unsnapped, and gravity took it to the floor, leaving behind a trail of garments that’d lead your fiancé to you buck naked and wanting.

You crawled onto the bed Javi had made that morning, the navy blue duvet decorated in golden suns, moons, and bright white stars. The burning ache at the apex of your thighs was begging to be assuaged by any means necessary, and with the absence of the person you wanted more than anything, it was up to you to take off the edge until he arrived.

Pulling open your bedside table drawer, you got out your small bullet vibrator and got comfortable lying down with your head on a pillow and slightly spreading your legs—cold air hit the slick-coated skin on your inner thighs and the lips of your sex, making you shiver. The toy hummed to life with the click of a button, your eyes closing as you slid it along your wet folds, the thrumming igniting sparks of arousal in your belly. You were imagining Javi on top of you, his hips pinning you to the mattress with his dick buried inside you, thrusting deep while his tongue was in your mouth—your jaw went slack, and your spine stiffened when you circled the vibe around your swollen clit, the sharp bolt of pleasure shooting to your core causing you to gasp.

The excitement in your pelvis was growing, moving the waves of vibrations side to side over your sensitive nub, fanning the flames of arousal in your center. You were so turned on your orgasm was building quickly, your nipples tightening, the heat in your abdomen spreading out from your groin, and getting hotter by the second. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and sweat was beginning to bead on your forehead, your thighs shaking as you envisioned Javier fucking you.

“Javi,” you moaned.

“I’m here, baby,” came his deep rasp. Your eyes flew open as you gasped, jolting in surprise.

He was standing at the end of the bed in his charcoal grey suit pants and a white dress shirt gaping at the neck from the three or so buttons he’d undone. His jacket and the red-patterned tie he’d left for work wearing were nowhere to be seen—there was a noticeable bulge at the front of his slacks, his pupils blown wide, his hungry gaze feasting on you spread out in front of him while he rolled up his sleeves to reveal the golden skin of his forearms, the overhead light glinting off of the face of the silver Rolex watch on his wrist you’d gotten him for Christmas.

Seeing him there in the flesh had such a strong spike of arousal cutting through you that you were unable to stop your desperate moan of his name. “I need you,” you whined, lifting the vibrator from yourself and turning it off in preference of having him instead. “I need you to fuck me—right now, Javier.”

His big hand was stroking over his straining length beneath his pants, his eyes locked on your glistening center. He licked his lips like he was imagining what you’d taste like. “You weren’t lying about being insanely horny, Cielito,” he said, not moving his gaze from between your thighs. “Look at how wet you are—how needy your pussy is for me. You want my dick, hermosa (beautiful)? You want my come?”

“Yes,” you answered, nodding your head.

“You can have it, Cielito.” You squeaked in surprise when he grabbed your ankles and roughly pulled you toward him to have your ass at the edge of the mattress. “—in a minute,” he continued and dropped to his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

He eagerly dove in, running the flat of his tongue through your slit to gather your wetness with an appreciative hum. It felt so good, your lip was pulled between your teeth, and your fingers curled into his hair, moaning as he lapped at your cunt.

The tip of his beautiful nose rubbed your clit with every drag of his plush mouth along your pussy, causing shocks of electricity to course through your wet core, your eyes rolling back, and the pleasure building inside you. His groans were vibrating against your sensitive skin, his tongue dipping into your opening before moving up to tease your bundle of nerves—flicking at it side to side, over and over again.

Your fists tightened in his hair. “Javi,” you whimpered. “God, it’s so good.”

There was something about someone enthusiastically going down on you that made the act a million times better—your past boyfriends would only do it if you asked, or they felt they had to because you gave them a blow job. But Javier? This man wanted to eat you out. He craved your taste; he loved getting you off with his mouth. You were pretty sure if he could, he’d live with his face shoved in your cunt, and you loved hearing how much he was enjoying himself; his moans making it sound like you were the one pleasuring him.

The horniness and using the vibrator had you so worked up that adding in Javi eating your pussy like it was his favorite meal had you cresting in hardly any time at all—your insides knotting up, winding tighter and tighter until the tension shattered and you came with a gasp of his name, relishing the euphoria that washed over you. His tongue went down to your entrance, licking up every bit of your release he could get, not missing a single drop.

The orgasm was nice, but it was more of an appetizer—it got you into the mood and even more excited for the main course that was getting his cock inside you so you’d finally be relieved of the aching emptiness in your core.

You let go of his hair, your words coming out hoarse, “Can I have your dick now?”

He let your legs fall off his shoulders and rose with a crooked grin, his mustache and the bottom half of his face wet with your juices. He started undoing his belt. “I’m sorry for making you wait,” he said, popping open the button on his slacks and pulling down the zipper. “I wanted to make sure I got you off first.” He shoved the pants and white boxer briefs down his legs, his cock springing free under the hem of his dress shirt.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smiled at him. “A gentleman,” you replied with a wink. “I’ll take it you’re unbelievably excited about possibly getting me pregnant, and you don’t think you’ll be able to last? Which, no shame—it flatters me when you’re so jazzed about fucking me you bust a nut sooner than you wanted.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’m excited.” He looked down, lifting the bottom of his shirt with one hand and spitting onto the fingers of the other, using them to slick up his throbbing length and making it shine in the lights of the room. “I’m really fucking excited.” He hooked his left arm under your knee and pulled you a little closer as he stepped forward with his dick in his right hand, pumping it a couple of times and pressing the tip to your soaked hole. “I love you,” the last word devolved into a groan as he pushed forward, sliding all the way home inside your cunt until he was balls deep.

The moment he breached your entrance, your mouth fell open at the delicious stretch your tight walls had to make for him to fit; your breaths went ragged, and your fingers clutched the duvet at the fullness. This was what you wanted. This was what you needed, feeling him so deep inside you that you were sure if he went any deeper, he’d nudge your spleen.

Your eyes had closed, and you fell back, the first sound escaping your lips coming out as a trembling whisper of his name. Javi went completely still for some seconds to calm himself down before he got his arms under each of your knees to spread you wide.

His voice was huskier when he spoke. “This what you needed, mi amor?” he asked. “My cock? Need me to fill this perfect pussy with my come? Need me to fuck it so deep I get you pregnant?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“I’ll make you a mother, Cielito,” he said in a sure tone.

That statement had you clenching around him, Javi hissing. He audibly swallowed.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “It’s fucking embarrassing how close I am.”

You huffed in amusement, your mouth dry and sweat forming on your brow. “You riled yourself up while riling me up—you played yourself.”

“Don’t give me shit.”

Opening your eyes, his broad figure was looming over you with a grumpy look on his perfect face, his dark eyes on yours.

“I’m not giving you shit, Javi,” you said. “I love it—now, hurry up and fuck me, so we’ll be parents in nine months.”

That seemed to kick him into gear, Javi pulling out almost all the way and slamming back in hard enough to push the air from your lungs, setting up a hard, fast pace that had your mouth forming a perfect ‘O.’ He was pounding into you, grunting with each thrust, and stuttering your moans—it was so amazing, arousal was seeping from your cunt and down his shaft, hearing him working his dick in and out of your sopping hole and the harsh slap of his balls against your skin.

Heat was growing at the base of your spine, your thoughts consumed with how good he was fucking you and the fact there was a chance he could knock you up—that alone had you speeding toward another orgasm.

Ever since the first time Javier told you he loved you, his preference in sex positions had changed—before, it was backshots, railing you from behind to the point he had you incoherent and drooling. Now, it was anything face to face for the intimacy and wanting to kiss you, which was so unbelievably sweet.

A newer development that you’d noticed not too long ago was he liked having access to your breasts—he was still an ass man, but there’d been an uptick in titty action, like at this moment with him wrapping your legs around his waist so he could lean down to suck your nipple between his lips while he palmed your other breast, his hips never waning from their brutal onslaught.

His tongue laved at your stiff peak, sucking and licking it and causing lightning to shoot straight to your core, the volume of your moans increasing. The hot pleasure curling in your gut made you move your hands into his hair, your legs squeezed tight around his hips.

His cock was pushing in and out of you, filling you over and over again, his mouth moving to your other nipple to give it the same attention while his fingers pinched and rolled the first—he had your pussy weeping for him, your slick escaping where you were joined, dripping down between your asscheeks as he fucked you into the mattress.

You were almost there. The muscles in your stomach were tensing in preparation for your release.

You wanted to kiss, and he got the message when you pulled his head up by the hair, his lips smashing against yours, holding his weight on his arms beside your head. The kiss was messy, with your tongues tangling and teeth clattering, sharing breaths, his body taking up your vision. You were lost in it all and all of him, Javier becoming the only thing you could think about, the two of you in your own little world, where nothing else mattered except each other.

When you needed air, your mouth blazed a sloppy trail of kisses along his jaw to his neck, his breathing getting shallower and rhythm jerky, knowing he was close—you sucked on the taut skin of his throat hard enough to leave a mark, and it made him whine, the sound going straight to your cunt.

“I’m gonna come inside you,” he said in a breathy rumble, the deep timbre of his voice making your scalp tingle. “I’m gonna—shit—I’m gonna fuck a baby into you.” It was your turn to whine. “I’m gonna fill you up, keep you stuffed until it—fuck—until it takes.” He sounded totally and completely wrecked.

Your words were muffled into his neck, “Y-Yes, Javi—give it to me. Fuck a baby into me.”

“I wanna,” he groaned, “I wanna see you pregnant with my child.” He wasn’t going to last much longer; his strokes were getting sloppier, and he’d hit the point of being so close that he rambled. “I wanna see your body change—your tits get bigger with milk.” His dick twitched hard inside you. “You’ll be so fucking beautiful—fuck—so fucking beautiful carrying my baby.” He was panting. “I love you so much—please don’t leave—please don’t ever leave me.”

You grabbed his cheeks and passionately kissed him, saying into his lips, “I’m never gonna leave you—I love you—I love you,” you repeated with more emphasis. “I’m yours—I’ll always be yours. Put a baby in me, Javi—fuck your come deep.”

That did him in.

His groan was ragged as he broke the kiss to shove his face into your neck—his teeth were bared, his hot breaths fanning against your skin, his pace going frantic.

“Yes, yes, yes,” was gasped from your lips, chanting the word like a prayer. “Come in me,” you practically beg.

His hips bucked into you one last time, pushing his cock in as deep as it could go inside you, feeling it thicken and jerk as he came, gushing inside you with a rumbling moan. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, the pleasurable pain making you gasp, feeling the hot flood of his come painting your insides. His hips were rolling to fuck it deeper, catching you off guard when he suddenly shifted his weight onto one arm to shove his other hand down between your bodies to rub your sensitive clit.

There was a quivering in your belly, a quaking that spread out to make your arms and legs tremble, his fingers circling, stroking, over and over again.

“Come for me,” he murmured against your ear. “Let me have it.”

You hit your tipping point, falling over the edge with an unintelligible cry—the surge of pleasure that bursted from your core had your hips jerking and your pussy spasming around him, Javi’s head falling against your shoulder with a strangled groan of good girl because you were squeezing him like a vice.

Now, this was one of those orgasms that consumed your entire being, taking you apart piece by piece until you were nothing but an incoherent, blissed-out puddle of a person who couldn’t even remember their own name.

A body slumped onto you, welcoming the familiar weight, the only sounds in the room being the hum of the air conditioning and panted breaths of the two inhabitants. It was reflex that had your fingers pressing into his slightly sweat-damp hair and rubbing your fingertips along his scalp—he made a pleased sound in the back of his throat.

Seconds pass, then some minutes, it was Javi who spoke first, grumbling with his face now in the crook of your neck, “I don’t wanna go back to fucking work.”

The reminder that your workday wasn’t over made you whine ‘No’ dramatically.

His hand, not above your head, rubbed along your ribs. “I know, baby—it’s shitty.”

“Why did we think a lunch quickie was a good idea?”

“Was there any thinking…?” he questioned.

“God, you’re so right. We suspected I was ovulating and immediately jumped to ‘We need to fuck right now.’ Zero planning whatsoever. An error was made when we assumed it’d be like our usual sexy lunchtime shenanigans.”

He hummed in agreement. “Was it better than normal for you, too…?”

“Um, yes—apparently, actual babymaking sex is another level of amazing.”

“It really is.” He held up his wrist so you could look at his watch. “How much time do we have?”

“Not enough for you to shower or either of us to eat—we probably should’ve gotten up like five minutes ago.”

“Fuck,” he said. Javi groaned as he pushed himself up to stand, a hiss slipping through his teeth when he pulled himself out of you.

Sitting up on your elbows, his attention was focused on the swollen lips between your thighs, his come starting to dribble from your used hole. You spread your legs a little wider for him to get a better look.

“So fucking pretty,” he mused, his hand moving without a second thought to catch his leaking spend on two fingers and press it back inside you. “Not letting a drop go to waste, mi amor.” His eyes met yours, laying his free hand low on your belly over your womb. He smiled. “A couple of weeks from now, you could be pregnant.”

You shared his happy expression. “We are going to fuck so much that your dick is going to hurt by the end of this week—might even get chafed.”

He grimaced. “Why are you excited about that?”

Reaching, you pressed a palm to his cheek. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll ice it for you.”

“That doesn’t make it any better…”

“It’s a sacrifice we must make to knock me up.”

He pulled his fingers out. “Sacrifice we have to make? I’m the one making the sacrifice…”

Your eyebrow lifted. “Okay, and what about the sacrifice I have to make with my body growing a tiny human from practically nothing, sharing said body with them for nine months, then having to go through probably the most excruciating pain of my entire life to push them out of my vagina, Javier? Still think you’re the only one making a sacrifice by being uncomfortable for a couple of days after contributing your pleasurable 1% to our group project, that I will be doing 99% of the work on?”

His eyes had rounded, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Right,” he said and cleared his throat. “I’m fine with the dick discomfort—I’m sorry, cariño (sweetheart).” He rubbed your bicep with his clean hand. “Can I get you some water?” He checked his watch. “Fuck it, I’ll go back to the office late. I don’t have a meeting for another half an hour anyway—I’m gonna make you lunch to take to work.” He bent to pull up his underwear and slacks he didn’t bother buttoning up and leaned to give you a quick kiss. “I just need to wash up real fast—I love you. Thank you.” He pecked you on the lips again.

“I love you, too—you don’t have to make me food,” you said as he retreated to the bathroom. “I’m not mad at you.”

“I know you’re not mad,” he replied over his shoulder, “but I’m still making my wife and the future mother of my children food because I love her and appreciate everything she does for me.”

You gasped in pretend shock. “You’re married?!” you exclaimed. “I’m sleeping with a married man?!”

He stopped in the bathroom doorway and turned your way with a look that said he was done with your shit, and it made you grin.

“You will be in seven days,” he replied.

You got up from the mattress on shaky legs, walking toward him.

“Does your wife know that?”

“Cielito?”

“Yes, Javier?”

“I’m fucking you in seven days—mark it on your calendar.”

That made you giggle. “If I scheduled all the times we fuck, there wouldn’t be any empty days on the calendar.”

You were close to him.

“Probably.” He shrugged. “But next Monday is special.”

“Is that so?” you asked, finally in his space and wrapping your arms around his shirt-covered middle. He hugged you back, looking you in the eyes with a smile.

“Yeah,” he answered, “‘cause it’ll be the first time I fuck you as my lawfully wedded wife.”

“Should I expect sex to be different as Mrs. Javier Peña?”

He nodded. “It’ll be better.”

And before the lunch quickie, you’d just had, you would’ve told him that was impossible. However, now, you thought he was right; that as your relationship continued to grow and evolve, so would you both, and it’d affect something like your sex life, hopefully, positively as each year passed. It felt like you won the lottery that this kind, sweet, caring, respectful, incredible man loved you and would no doubt ensure sex with him was nothing less than spectacular.

“Well, Mr. Peña, I’m excited for you to make an honest woman out of me.”

His head moved, hovering his lips over yours, feeling his breath as he spoke in a low husk, “I’m excited to be your husband and share my last name with you, Mrs. Peña—I love you.”

“I love you, too—kiss me,” you whispered.

He nudged his nose against yours. “As you wish, mi amor—I promise to kiss you every day for as long as I live.” He pressed his lips to yours, kissing you tenderly.

Robyn was going to give you so much shit for returning to work late…

Javier didn’t mind Mondays when he was in Colombia.

To be honest, during his first stint trying to get Pablo Escobar, he was working so much his days blended together, and he didn’t know the date until he looked at a calendar in the office or Steve told him. As attaché, Mondays were the start of his week, and if he happened to have Sunday or the whole weekend off, he was still doing work at home and couldn’t wait to get back to the office—Monday mornings were used to plan out and go over his week’s schedule with his staff, the rest of the day he attended required meetings and when he had time, assessing where they were at in their operation and strategizing next steps.

He’d been too consumed with his job to take a break or relax over the weekend. it wasn’t something he would’ve wanted to do anyway because it’d mean he’d be alone with his thoughts, and who’d want that? Thinking about all of the mistakes he’d made, how much he fucked up and let his family down, mulling over how alone and miserable he felt—obsessing about his work meant there wasn’t time to think about those things, so Mondays were always welcome.

His life had changed since then.

Drastically.

Now, he looked forward to the weekend.

It meant a full forty-eight hours he got to spend with the most amazing woman he loved more than anything. It was forty-eight hours full of love, happiness, and contentment. He could actually relax with her, let his guard down, and just be himself.

The weekend was sacred, and he hated waking up on Monday morning, knowing he'd have to be away from his media naranja (soulmate) for at least forty hours over the next five days.

It was safe to say that Javier wasn't the jolliest of people when the alarm clock went off at the start of the week; it was such a common occurrence Cielito often compared him to Garfield, the cat.

He felt he'd done some good work since starting at the Sheriff's office a while back. The narcotics unit, he advised, had managed to do double the busts and arrests than the previous year, the DEA practically frothing at the mouth over the amount of drugs, weapons, and dirty money they’d seized. The agent in charge of their region, who he’d previously butted heads with, had even commended him on their last call. His notoriety was known enough he’d lost count of how many offers he'd gotten to do lectures and the number of agencies in Texas and across the country who had tried to poach him at most or get him to do short-term freelance consulting at minimum.

Basically, there were a lot of people who wanted to pick his brain and/or talk about his time with the DEA.

His, was it, popularity? In the drug enforcement circles and public knowledge of his efforts in Colombia had led to an interesting phenomenon, the Sheriff loved and Javier hated. Philanthropists, sometimes businesses, a lot of the times just individuals, many of whom weren’t even from the area, wanted to donate decent sums of money to the various anti-drug and addiction treatment programs the Sheriff's office and county, in general, ran with the caveat of discussing where their money was going with someone who fought in the War on Drugs.

Him.

Most of the time when he met with these 'philanthropists,' they just wanted to hear stories about Pablo Escobar and the Cali cartel that weren't reported in the mainstream media, or in other words, Javier had to schmooze.

Javier hated schmoozing.

He absolutely fucking hated all the ass kissing he had to do with higher-ups as attaché, and he sure as fuck, didn't like having to do it now with people who had more money than god and a morbid curiosity about two of the biggest, most violent cartels in recent history.

He could decline these meetings if he wanted—Sheriff Arturo told him it was completely his choice if he took them or not. Obviously, his preference would be the latter, but he cared about his community and checked into it to confirm the donations were being used as intended, so he figured it was worth an hour of his time every once in a while.

This morning, he'd been extra annoyed it was Monday because he was scheduled to meet with one of these potential donors who was from Dallas or somewhere else in the state; he wasn't actually paying attention the prior week when Joy, the Sheriff's assistant who also helped out Javier sometimes, was giving him the information due to the fact seconds before she walked into his office he'd gotten a message on his phone from his wi-fiancée that read:

Can I blow u on lunch?

And he’d needed Joy to leave so he could call Cielito to give her an emphatic yes, with the stipulation he could eat her out for his afternoon meal instead of the sandwich she made him. All that’d registered when his, kind of, assistant was talking were the date and time for the meeting he hastily scribbled down on his yellow legal pad.

Since it was the beginning of a new week and having the meeting on his agenda, he didn’t have much hope for it being a good day, and then his phone vibrated with a text message from his soon-to-be wife:

Need u bad. Lunch? ;)

See, in the week after they came home from Miami, they had an in-depth conversation about starting their family—yes, they both had already enthusiastically agreed to try for a baby, but Cielito wanted to manage his expectations and ensure he understood the statistics, risks, and tragic possibilities he didn’t even want to think about, yet needed to be aware of.

That night, he’d gotten out his mother’s rosary for the first time in a while, sat on the edge of the bathtub in the locked bathroom, and had a quiet conversation with her about how happy and ecstatic he was, along with his new fears and worries, making a tearful request for her to please watch over them. He wasn’t religious by any means and didn’t see a point in praying to some all-powerful being that possibly existed and, if so, had more serious matters in the world to attend to, but Javier knew his mom would care if she was listening, and it comforted him, thinking she was, and that she would watch over them.

Another thing his fiancée had done was try and pinpoint when they actually had a chance of conceiving, and that was how he found out she’d begun keeping track of her periods when they started dating, her reasoning:

‘I thought you didn’t want kids, so I made sure I could catch any surprises as quickly as possible to give us time to figure out what we wanted to do, then I found out you’re actually pro-kids and knew the data would come in handy when we decided to go for it, and I was right.”

She was right, she was always right, though, and had marked possible dates their chances were high on the Star Wars-themed wall calendar in the kitchen—January’s picture was a still from the first movie of Darth Vader interrogating Princess Leia in her cell on the Death Star—and Javier had been waiting for the prospective days with almost the same amount of glee as their impending nuptials.

Today was a possibility, and getting her text message and having her confirm over the phone her telling symptoms had him fist pumping with an excited ‘Yes!’ when he hung up.

His day had completely turned around, and he wasn’t even bothered about his afternoon meeting because he was on top of the world and beyond happy about the possibility of becoming a father.

He’d been vibrating with so much excitement he couldn't even focus on his work, and there were some important reports he needed to go over and create; he also had a few files on some recent busts one of the guys on the narcotics team wanted him to look over to see if Javier noticed the same things he did without disclosing what they were—he’d be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued.

Over the months he’d been with the Sheriff’s office, they’d had some leads on how the drugs were crossing the border from Mexico into Laredo, but they all ended up being dead ends. They knew what cartel was supplying; however, they didn’t know the link that was getting them into the US, and it bothered him so fucking much. Every person they caught and interrogated either wouldn’t say anything because they feared what the cartel would do or didn’t know shit, and had the same story that they got a call from an unknown number that gave them a location to pick up what was usually a vehicle with the drugs hidden inside along with their cash payment, and a destination where they needed to take it—generally, random parking lots they’d abandon the cars in. The narcotics team had attempted numerous times to get one of the traffickers to wait for their next call and report the specifics in order to conduct a sting, but once they were arrested, they were never contacted again or, in some cases, mysteriously disappeared; the assumption was they either fled to Mexico, or the sicarios got them.

It also didn't help that the town police department wasn't very forthcoming with their drug arrests and made getting their reports a pain in the ass—apparently, this only became an issue when Javier came on board as a consultant, which told him the person making their life difficult was the Laredo Police Department Chief, who also happened to be Lorraine's uncle.

That fucking family.

Since he'd been too amped to work, the time leading up to the lunch hour was spent going through the catalogs he had delivered to the office he hid in his desk drawer, containing baby stuff—clothes, toys, furniture, and making notes of the things he liked or needed to call Connie about to get her opinion.

The lunchtime quickie that ended up not being very quick was better than he ever could have imagined; it was so fucking fantastic that it easily made his top three Greatest Fucks—the other two were the sex on his birthday last month and the first time they fucked after they confessed their love on the kitchen floor—and it had him itching for the end of the workday to go home, and do it again, and probably again after that. It seemed Cielito wasn’t wrong about the probability of his dick hurting by the end of the week, and after some perspective (her gentle reminder of her sacrifices), it was something he was more than okay with—he was looking forward to it, actually.

He'd made her a cheese quesadilla and cut up some apple slices for her to take back to work and eaten his own before he left the apartment.

Javier had fussed with his clothes and hair to ensure it wasn’t obvious what he’d been doing the past hour and thought he did a pretty good job. He arrived at work ten minutes before his meeting and stopped by Joy’s desk, located outside Sheriff Arturos’s office, to get any messages he may have missed. The Sheriff was standing at his door talking to her in his uniform of a short-sleeved khaki shirt and army green pants, his gold Sheriff star badge gleaming under the overhead lights.

The older man’s dark eyes landed on him as he approached, the expression on his face turning to amusement.

“Parece que tuviste un buen almuerzo (Looks like you had a good lunch),” the Sheriff said.

His eyebrows furrowed. “¿Por qué dices eso (Why do you say that)...?”

Arturo tapped the side of his neck with his finger. “Ella te marcó (She marked you).”

Javier knew the exact spot, his hand instinctively moving to cover it. His attention went to Joy, who looked just as amused as the Sheriff. “How bad is it?” he asked her as he uncovered it.

She peered up at him through her wire-rimmed glasses, examining the spot. “She got you good, but you’ve had worse,” she answered. This was something that had happened many times before. “I can cover it up for your meeting if you want.”

He usually didn’t care about walking around with hickies on his neck—he actually loved that it broadcasted he was with someone. Unfortunately, there were some instances where he needed to look professional, and Joy would help by covering the marks with makeup Cielito had given her.

Checking his watch, the people would be arriving any minute. “There’s no time,” he sighed. “I’ll get my messages after the meeting—thank you!” He started walking to his office down the hall.

He’d made sure his desk didn’t look messy, keeping a legal pad and his pen at the ready, his suit jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and he had some program brochures in case whoever he was meeting with wanted them. He was sitting, absentmindedly thinking about what kind of flowers he’d bring home to his fiancée, leaning towards a bouquet of colorful tulips or there’d been a pink rose and lilies arrangement he saw last week he thought was really pretty, she’d like.

His desk phone rang, and he picked up the receiver, answering, “Peña.”

“Your appointment has arrived, Mr. Peña,” Joy said on the other line. “Are you ready for them?”

“Sure,” he replied. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.” There was a lot he could do instead of regaling people with stories from the worst years of his life.

“We’re on our way.” She hung up, and so did he, Javier standing up from his chair.

Joy appeared at his doorway, holding out her arm to direct the newcomers inside, as she said, “Right this way.”

Three nicely dressed people walked in, two men and a woman, Javier stepped around his desk to shake the first man’s hand—he was much older than Javier, giving him a firm handshake.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Javier,” the man said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes—he had an air about him that he knew he was the richest and most important person in the room; so, snobby. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“From someone I know?” Javier figured it was an agent at the DEA.

“I believe so,” he answered. “We can talk about that in a minute—this is my wife.” He looked at the woman beside him, and Javier shook her hand. She was probably ten to fifteen years younger than her husband, dressed in clothes and jewelry that had to be worth more than he made in a year—she wasn’t smiling. It was obvious from her expression that she was disappointed in what she was seeing and unimpressed, Javier cringing when her eyes zeroed in on his neck.

This was going to go so well.

Maybe she was expecting someone older who looked more experienced?

“It’s nice to meet you,” Javier said with a polite smile. He let go of her hand. “I didn’t get either of your names?”

The man spoke, “Call us…” he paused. “John,” he finally answered, “and Jane.”

“Okay… John and Jane…?”

“Doe.”

Fake names. “So, you want to be anonymous donors…?”

It had happened before; however, in those instances, they did tell him their names and just requested they be listed as anonymous.

“Precisely—you’re a smart guy, Javier,” John said, with a smile that wasn’t sincere and the comment coming off as condescending, making Javier’s teeth clench.

“Right…”

“Well—” John clapped his hands together once. “—let’s talk business.”

There was still the other man behind them—tall, gangly, balding, probably about John’s age, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a black suit, holding a briefcase—a lawyer if he had to guess, which wasn’t odd when there were large sums of money involved.

“I’ll take it the gentleman accompanying you is your lawyer?” he asked.

“Yes.”

They obviously weren’t going to introduce the guy to Javier, so he walked around them and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Javi,” he said, “and you are?”

“Gerald,” he answered, shaking his hand.

He smiled. “Nice to meet you, Gerald.” Javier moved to close his office door. “Please, have a seat,” he told the room as he made his way to his desk. “Sorry, I only have two chairs, but I can have Joy bring in a third.”

He sat down in his, the couple taking seats in the two chairs in front of his desk.

“That won’t be necessary,” John said, waving away his offer. “Jerry is fine standing.”

Javier looked up at the man in question standing behind them. “Would you like a seat, Gerald?”

“I’m fine,” he answered.

Javier nodded and turned his attention to the people in front of him, who now looked annoyed because they apparently didn’t like politeness. He crossed his arms on his desk and gave them a close-lipped smile.

“So,” he started, “I was told you wanted to meet with me specifically. I’ll just say I don’t normally do these kinds of meetings, but if it helps get funding, I will. How can I help you? Would you like me to go over the programs?”

“We had some questions for you,” John replied.

“Okay.” He nodded. “I’m assuming they’re about my work in Colombia?”

“Some,” he answered.

“What university did you go to?” Jane asked.

“Texas A&M.”

“What degree?”

“Criminal justice with a minor in psychology.”

Her nose scrunched as if she smelled something bad, and John sat up straighter in his seat. “Were you really involved with taking down Pablo Escobar?” he asked.

“I helped—spent seven/eight years going after him with my partner. I wasn’t there when he died, but my partner was.”

“That’s a considerable amount of time to hunt someone. Why weren’t you there in the end?”

“I was on leave here in Laredo visiting my family.” Kind of true. “Bad timing, as you can tell.” He humorlessly chuckled.

“Right… And there was another cartel you were involved in dismantling?”

“The Cali cartel,” he answered. “They took over after Escobar.”

“Sounds like a dangerous job. Do you have to worry about their associates or the criminals you put away coming after you?”

“Not really? Many are dead, and I’ve been out of the DEA for a while, so I think if something were going to happen, it would’ve by now.”

“Your achievements are impressive.” He said it, but he didn’t look impressed. “How old are you?”

“Forty.” He felt like he was being interrogated. “Can I tell you about the county’s programs?”

“Right, right,” John said. “Money. We promise you’ll have a check. We’re just interested in learning more about The Great Javier Peña.”

He frowned. “I wouldn’t say I’m great…”

“We wouldn’t either,” Jane mumbled under her breath, not looking at him.

“That’s something we can agree on,” John said so smoothly that Javier was stunned by the rudeness.

What was with these people? They requested this meeting with him and didn’t seem to like him all that much—he was pretty sure the wife hated his guts, and he had no clue what he’d done or who they were. He didn’t have to put up with this shit, no matter who they thought they were or how much they were going to donate, so he let his mask fall along with all the pleasantries.

“So, I’m doing this as a favor for the Sheriff,” Javier said. “I don’t have to talk to you people, especially with you giving me the impression you don’t even like me. I don’t want to waste your time or mine—let’s cut to the chase; how much money are you donating? And I’ll decide if it’s worth answering any more of your questions.”

His shift in demeanor had the couple looking taken aback at his audacity, like they couldn’t believe he’d speak to them in such a way.

“Is that how you talk to people who want to give you money?” Jane asked.

His eyes went to her. “It’s how I talk to people who clearly don’t like or respect me. if you want this meeting to continue, tell me how much.”

“Okay, Javier,” John said. “Is one hundred thousand enough?”

He kept his face neutral, but Javier was shocked. No one had ever donated that much.

“That’ll work,” he responded. “What do you want to know?”

“Is it true you’d pay and sleep with prostitutes to get information while in Colombia?” Jane asked.

Javier jolted as if she’d slapped him, his eyebrows creasing. “Where’d you hear that? What does that have to do with Webb County or my career?”

“It’s a question of your morals,” she answered. “Did you use women for your own personal gain?”

“One hundred thousand,” John reminded him.

Jesus Christ.

His jaw ticked, his fists clenching. He answered, “Yes.”

“Is it true you were fired from the DEA for helping a paramilitary group that killed civilians?” Jane asked.

“I only helped them get a handful of Escobar’s sicarios and told them no civilians were to be harmed.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

He icily stared. “Yes.”

This was an interrogation.

“Were you engaged to Lorraine Smith seventeen years ago and left her the night before your wedding?”

How the fuck did they know that?

“She was trying to trap me,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

John leaned forward, staring him down. “All those deplorable things—do you actually think you’re good enough to marry our daughter?”

There it was.

Everything finally made sense.

He’d only seen a few pictures of her parents since his fiancée didn’t enjoy going through her family photo album, actively avoiding the reminders of how she’d been neglected and shunned, so he hadn’t recognized them. Now that he knew their true identities, he could see the features Cielito had gotten from each of them—eyes, mouth, chin, nose, that crinkle between her eyebrows when they pulled together—if her mother had smiled just once instead of glowering at him the entire time, he would’ve clocked who they were in ten seconds flat.

These fuckers, he knew they were up to something, and to wait and show up a week before their wedding, was fucking diabolical—obviously, they were going to pull some shit to try and stop him from marrying their daughter. A sick part of Javier wished they knew he could still smell Cielito in his mustache and had some of her dried come on his dick; he was happy the mark on his neck stood out since it showed he was with her recently.

His surprise only lasted a second as it quickly turned into burning hot anger, Javier glaring at them.

“Do I think I’m good enough for your daughter? No, but she thinks I am, and her opinion is the only one that matters,” he answered.

Jane rolled her eyes, and John sat back, crossing his arms.

“It used to be common courtesy to ask the Father for permission to marry his daughter,” the other man said.

Javier leaned back, mirroring John with his arms over his chest. “When they considered their daughters property,” he said. “Your daughter is not your property; she’s a person who can do whatever the fuck she wants without your permission—get out of here with that sexist bullshit.”

Jane scoffed.

John jutted a finger at him. “You’re not good enough for our daughter,” he said. “You’re not cut from the same cloth—she’s Cashmere, and you’re a dirty old rag. She’s better than you—she deserves better than you, and you cannot marry her. We won’t allow it. She needs to marry someone from a family of worth or a man in a profession of notoriety who makes good money, like that great surgeon she dated, Dr. Andrews. He’s made a name for himself and would’ve been a great match for her. If she marries you, people will talk, and we’ll be a laughingstock amongst our peers that our daughter was with someone so beneath her—you’d sully her name and all that we’ve built. So, here’s how this is going to go, Javier,” he spat. “We promised you a check, and you’ll get one for one hundred thousand as we agreed for you to put toward whatever menial program you wish. Then you’ll get a second check for the same amount to call off your wedding and leave our daughter. You will never speak to her again, and if she happens to be pregnant with your child—god help us—you will sever your parental rights and have nothing to do with either of them. Am I understood?”

Javier was so fucking angry he thought he was going to explode.

He figured they’d lay into him about his unworthiness to try and make him second guess being with her. He also thought they’d try threatening him with god only knows what to stop their wedding. Trying to pay him off to keep him from marrying their daughter was unexpected and unbelievably insulting. They were out of their minds thinking money would get him to leave her; they were fucking insane thinking money would get him to leave her and their child.

His ears were ringing, his blood was boiling, feeling hot and so full of rage he was seeing red.

His tone was low and menacing, “Get. The fuck. Out.”

John sighed. “Fine. two hundred fifty thousand.”

“I don’t want your fucking money.”

“Everyone has a price,” Jane said.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, resting his arms back on the desk. “Some people don’t actually give a fuck about money, Jane. So, no, I don’t have a fucking price. You could offer me one million dollars right this second, and I’d still tell you to fuck off. You people are fucking despicable—does she even know you’re here?”

“Of course not,” John said, giving him a look like that should be obvious. “We’re here on business.”

Javier’s attention went to him. “Your daughter’s happiness is ‘business?’ Wanting to ruin our lives is ‘business?’ Do either of you have hearts, or is it purely hatred keeping you alive? You know what, I don’t fucking care—be honest with me, do you even love her?”

“Yes, of course we love her!” Jane replied. “Why do you think we’re doing this? We love her and want what’s best for her!”

“No, you want what’s best for you.” He pointed at her. “If you actually loved her, you wouldn’t be doing this because you’d care about her happiness and not your family’s image. If you loved her, you’d be happy about our marriage.” His voice rose, “If you fucking loved her, you would treat her as such and respect her life choices! You don’t fucking love her, and you never have all because she wasn’t born with a fucking penis and didn’t follow some stupid fucking career tradition! No, you don’t fucking love her!” He stood from his chair so abruptly that it rolled back to ram into a bookcase.

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding, face hot.

His voice brokered no room for argument, “So, here’s how this is going to go. I won’t tell her about this absolutely fucked up conversation and attempted bribe, and you’re going to get the fuck out of our town without another word. You will not see her before leaving, and you will never show your faces here again. If you do not follow any of these instructions, I will tell her everything, and because I genuinely love your daughter—“ He pressed a hand over his heart. “—and know her, I can tell you that you will never hear from her again, and you won’t ever meet our children. Am I understood?”

After this meeting was finished, he was rushing to Cielito’s work to tell her all that had happened—he wouldn’t keep anything from her, especially this.

“One million,” John tried.

“Stop offering me fucking money!” Javier shouted, slamming his hands onto the desk. “You can’t pay me off!” His volume lowered. “Now, are you gonna go straight home, or do I need to call your daughter, my fiancée, on speakerphone so you can tell her what’s happening?”

John looked over his shoulder at the man behind him. “Jerry, the paperwork.” He snapped his fingers.

Gerald used his knee to prop up the briefcase that he popped open. Grabbing a large manila envelope, he passed it to John, who tossed it onto the wooden surface in front of Javier.

“Sign it,” the older man ordered, pointing at it. “Standard prenup—you get divorced, you take what little you brought with you, and don’t get a single cent of our money; if you won’t be reasonable, then you’ll play by our rules. She knows she must either keep her last name or hyphenate when she marries.” Cielito had never mentioned that and planned to take his last name, which her parents definitely wouldn’t like. “The children she has with you will have hyphenated last names, ours first—which shouldn’t be a problem for you.” That was aggressive and not fucking happening with how adamant his future wife was about getting rid of her maiden name. “—and they’ll have trusts set up for them that they can access at the age of eighteen if they pursue a medical degree, if not, then they’ll have to wait until they’re twenty-five.” How fucking rich were these people? And his kids would go to school for whatever they wanted; his fiancée had told him she could afford it. “—you, Javier, are barred from touching any of the money.”

“I don’t want your fucking money, pal,” Javier rolled his eyes. “Stop acting like it matters to me, and pull your head out of your ass—we don’t give a single fuck about you enough to do any of this asinine bullshit.”

“I’m not done,” John’s words were clipped with irritation, and his face showed it. “And you’ll want to hear the rest.”

“I don’t think I do, but please, buddy, keep up this disappointing attempt to intimidate me. Just remember, I spent years with a target on my back and know what it’s like to be at the end of a loaded gun, so your words aren’t gonna do shit.”

“We expect you to visit during the holidays and act civil; that means smiling in the annual family photo.” Javier snorted at this man being so full of himself to think he could get them to play ‘one big happy family.’ “If you don’t sign, then your children will get nothing, we will write our daughter out of our wills, and she will never get any additional financial support from us outside of the money we put aside for her college education—” She had the same stipulation that unless she went to medical school, she wouldn’t have access to her college fund until she was twenty-five. “—and what her grandparents left her; our son will inherit everything.”

Well, shit.

Javier frowned. This just put him between a rock and a goddamn concrete wall of a hard place.

“I’m sure you want your children to have a head start in life,” John continued, looking smug, “so we advise you sign, right Jerry?”

“It’s a substantial amount of money,” Gerald replied. “It would be in your best interest to sign, and that’s just my unbiased opinion.”

Javier was ready to tell them to take the prenup and shove it up their asses, the problem: he couldn’t make an executive decision on Cielito’s behalf that would lose her inheritance. This was something he needed to discuss with her and figure out if she wanted him to abide by the demands—which he would, for her; he wouldn’t like it, but he’d do anything for her. Now he needed to get these assholes to leave, so he could head to the hospital and talk to her.

“Thank you for your unbiased opinion, Gerald,” Javier said. He looked at the man who’d unfortunately be his father-in-law in a week. “Have you listed all of that in here?” He poked the manila envelope.

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m not gonna sign a legally binding document without having my lawyer look it over—I’m a smart guy, after all. You got a card with your fax number on it, Gerald?”

“Yes,” he answered, pulling one out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and walking around his bosses to hand it to Javier.

“Thanks. I’m going to let my lawyer determine if it really is in my best interest to agree to this, and he’ll be in touch in a couple of days—you probably won’t tell me, but where’d you hear all that shit about me?”

How people in town found out about his history with the informants has been a mystery since he never told anyone. He knew a person could find out about his involvement with Los Pepes from reading an article in a Miami newspaper, and everyone in fucking Laredo was aware of Lorraine.

John looked at him like he was stupid. “Private investigator,” he answered.

“Let me guess, he talked to Lorraine and her family?”

“No comment.”

So, that was a yes.

He sighed. “I’m really fucking curious about where he got the intel on my… relations with the women in Colombia. It had to be someone I worked with—“ He knew it wasn’t Steve. “—or who knew me down there.”

“They contacted us anonymously, so I don’t know.”

It smelled like Stechner, which, now that he was thinking about it, that fucker had been through this area before he arrived unannounced a couple of months ago, working alongside the DEA with what was going on in Mexico. He would’ve loved stirring up trouble by letting it slip about Javier’s relationships with informants.

He nodded once. “Well,” Javier started, “eating a bowl of shattered glass would’ve been more pleasant than this shitshow of a meeting. You folks really know how to make a great first impression,” he said sarcastically. “Now get the fuck out of my office and town.” He gestured toward the door. “You’re not welcome here.”

The couple got up from their chairs.

John checked the time on his Rolex, the gold watch featuring a white dial that easily cost three to four times the amount of the one on Javier’s wrist. “We need to get going anyway,” he said, “I have to be in San Francisco tomorrow for a medical conference, and I can’t miss it since I’m speaking at it—hopefully, I’ll run into Daniel. It’s always nice talking to him.”

Javier’s eyes rolled so hard he thought they might get stuck.

“We’re happy to leave this awful town,” Jane sneered. “One day, she’ll tire of you and realize the mistake she made letting you trap her here. We’ll be there when she finally comes to her senses and returns home to us.”

Javier huffed amusedly. “You’re fucking delusional, lady. You don’t even know her! She loves living here. Especially since it’s so fucking far away from you snobby fuckers.”

The woman raised her nose at him and hmph’d.

“Last chance, Javier,” John said, meeting his eyes. “One million dollars and all you have to do is disappear from her life—you’ve done it before, so do it again, and this time be compensated for it. Someone like you can easily find another woman to love.”

Javier straightened, his hands sitting on his hips, staring daggers at the other man. “I don’t want another woman,” he growled. “You’re not understanding, so let me say it nice and slow, and maybe you’ll get it: I. Love. Your. Daughter. No one else. I will never love anyone else. I love her more than life itself. I would take a bullet for her. I would die for her. I would do anything for her, like signing this fucking document—” He tapped his finger on it. “—that I don’t agree with or want to do 99% of because I love her, and I want her to be happy. She is my entire world, and just the thought of being away from her makes me sick to my stomach. So, unless she tells me to leave, I’m not going anywhere; I am spending the rest of my life with her, and there is no amount of money in the entire fucking universe that could get me to do otherwise.” He took in a big breath and slowly let it out, frowning. “From the way you can’t seem to grasp the love we have and what your daughter means to me, I’m under the impression your marriage is transactional or for appearances only—there was never any love, it was just a way to improve your social standing, or whatever stupid shit you rich people care about, but the fact of the matter is it wasn’t built on love. It’s superficial.” He looked at John. “If you went bankrupt tomorrow, she wouldn’t stay with you.” He pointed at the wife. “There’s no for richer or poorer with you two, and that’s really fucking sad. I pity you.”

The couple were scowling at him. “We don’t need your pity,” the older man said. “You know nothing about our marriage. We’ll be expecting to see the signed papers soon.”

They didn’t wait for him to respond, storming toward the door with Gerald following.

Javier sighed, pressing his fingers to his brow.

He knew eventually he’d have to meet Cielito’s parents. He had thought about what he’d say to them when he did so many times he’d lost count because Javier needed them to know how angry he was with how they’d treated the woman he loved. He needed them to know how they failed her as parents. He needed them to know how much he loved her and that he wouldn’t let them continue hurting her. He finally had his chance, and they’d made him so mad, he couldn’t remember a single fucking thing he said and hoped in his rage he got some of his points across.

They were at a crossroads now. He’d tell her what happened, every detail he could remember, and then it would be up to her—will they cut off complete contact with her family? Or would they have to abide by her parents’ demands? Javier thought he knew which way she’d choose, but money had a way of making people do things they normally wouldn’t, and from the looks of it, there was a lot of money on the line.

He sighed again. Anxiety had his stomach twisting into knots, and he was so fucking worried about what she’d choose that his chest was aching. He’d go along with whatever it was because, in the end, it was her decision, and he’d respect it, even if it was something he didn’t like and, holy shit, did Javier hate the idea of these stuck-up pricks remaining in their lives and having any kind of relationship with their future children.

There was a knock on his office door, and his hand lowered, finding Joy standing in the doorway with worry on her brow. She was a great kid who’d really gotten the hang of the job, which was her first out of college, and she was doing very well—Joy also loved Cielito and hung on her every word when they talked.

“Is everything okay, Javi?” she asked. “I heard yelling.”

“They were my in-laws, and they fucking hate me. I’ve never met them in person; hell, I’ve never even spoken to her dad on the phone, and they flew all the way here to talk to me.”

Her eyes went wide behind her glasses. “It wasn’t to congratulate you on your marriage, was it…?”

He scoffed. “No, they were trying to convince me to call it off.”

“Then why are you still here? Go to the hospital! Don’t worry about your messages.”

“I’m going,” he said, grabbing the large envelope containing the documents and moving toward the door, not even bothering to put on his suit jacket.

“You should know they left this with me.” She held up what looked to be paper as he approached, and he took it, reading what it was.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he said in disbelief. “They donated the fucking hundred grand—we didn’t even talk about the programs. How did they know who to write the check out to?” He met her eyes.

“They asked me which one was my favorite.” She shrugged. “Now, go!” She snagged the check back. “I’ll get this to where it belongs, and you go deal with what you need to—tell her hi from me.”

“I will.” He made his way out of the door. “Thank you!” he said, walking as fast as his legs could go.

Once in his truck and on his way, he’d gotten his cell phone out and speed-dialed a number.

Ring.

“Doctor’s Hospital of Laredo. How may I direct your call?”

“Robyn Thompson, post-op.”

“One moment.”

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“Hi, this is Robyn,” she answered.

“Hey, it’s Javi.”

“Oh, they paged me to answer the phone. Let me go get her.”

“No!” he quickly said. “I need to talk to you.”

Her tone went serious, “What’s goin’ on, Javi?”

“I’m on my way there right now and need to talk to her about something that happened. Would you be okay if I borrowed her for ten, maybe fifteen minutes?”

“Javier,” she whispered, “are you gettin’ cold feet?”

That being her first assumption stung, and it hurt worse because she knew damn well how head over heels he was for her best friend. It looked like even after all these years since his failed wedding, it didn’t matter if he was madly in love with someone and had a great relationship; people were still going to wonder if he would leave his new bride at the altar.

“What? No! Never! Not with her. Her fucking parents came to town and tried to pay me a fuckton of money to call off the wedding and leave her, I told them to fuck off, but they want me to sign a goddamn prenup with a list of demands that I need to talk to her about.”

“Her parents…? Here in Laredo…?”

“Yeah, I was pretty fucking shocked, too, then so fucking angry I can’t remember what I yelled at them.”

“She can take her break early, and I’ll cover.”

“Please don’t say anything to her.”

“Oh, this is all you.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. See you soon.”

“Bye.”

He ended the call.

The radio’s volume was down low, and the air conditioner was turned up high, Javier alone with his thoughts as he figured out how he was going to tell her about what happened—he’d tell her the truth, of course, but he didn’t want to upset her. That was the thing, though; she was going to be upset and royally pissed off.

The patient in room three wanted some apple juice; room five was asking for pain meds, but they had an hour before they could have another dose and hated being told ‘no’ so much they wouldn’t stop hitting their call button as if each press would magically make the minutes go by faster; room one was asleep and in—you checked the time on your watch—the next forty-five minutes, an orderly was coming by to take them for a walk to exercise their new hip.

It had been a busy fucking day, and you felt awful about coming back to work a little late after lunch.

You were heading toward the storage room to get the apple juice and just put your hand on the door handle.

“Hey,” Robyn said as she walked up to you. “What are your rooms needin’?”

“Three, apple juice. Five, pain meds, but we have to wait an hour. One is asleep for now.”

She nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna take care of all that for you while you go on break.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, looking at your watch. “It’s way too early for me to take a break. I’ve got another hour, at least.”

Her smile was small, patting your arm. “You’re gonna wanna go now ‘cause Javi’s waitin’ for you over at the desk.”

Your head whipped in that direction, and sure enough, he was standing there in his charcoal-colored slacks, white dress shirt, and red-patterned tie, staring at you with big brown puppy dog eyes and a little smile—and doing a little awkward wave that was both adorable and weirdly out of character from his usual suaveness.

“Uh, why is he here?” you asked, returning his gesture with a small wave of your own. “I was just with him on lunch...”

She turned her attention to him. “Oh, look at him doin’ a lil wave,” she cooed as if she was fawning over a cute baby, waving back. “Isn’t that just adorably weird and a reason you should talk to him right now?”

“You’re really okay if I take my break?” Your face turned her way.

She met your eyes. “Girl, my two patients are passed out, and the next one isn't arrivin’ for another hour, shoo.” She shooed you away with her hands, and you went.

Javi had stopped waving as you approached him, and once you were close enough, you asked, “Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

The look on his face wasn’t happy; he was clearly worried, and it made you nervous.

“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Alarm bells started going off in your head.

“Javier, is your dad okay? Did something happen to him? Or someone else in the family?”

He grabbed your hand, his thumb rubbing on the skin of the back of it. “Pop’s okay, Cielito—everyone in our family is okay. Take me somewhere we can talk, and I’ll explain.”

You chewed on your lip, not wanting to ask the question but needing to in order to prepare yourself. “Does this have something to do with our wedding…?” your voice was quiet.

“Baby, no,” he reassured. “Mi amor, look at me.” You did. “Us, our family, our friends, are all good—something happened at work, and I can’t talk to you on the phone about it or wait until we get home. I’ll tell you once we’re somewhere alone.”

“Okay.” You nodded, interlacing your fingers with his and leading him down the hall. For privacy’s sake, you took him to the closest on-call room, the small space containing a twin-sized bed and a desk.

The door was locked, and you moved further into the room and stopped, turning to face your fiancé.

Your eyes were on his. “What’s going on, babe?” you asked.

He took in a big lungful of air, saying as he exhaled, “Your parents came to my office today.”

What he stated was so absurd you thought you misheard him. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right. It sounded like you said my parents were at your office, like physically, in person at your office, which is just absolute crazyballs because why would they come all the way here and not tell me or visit me…?”

The look on his face was so sad it made your stomach drop to your toes. He slid his hand soothingly along your bicep, up and down, over and over.

His tone was gentle. “You know how we’ve been wondering if they’re up to something?”

“Yes,” you whispered, dreading what he would say.

“They were pretending to like me and support our marriage, so you wouldn’t suspect them of having anything to do with their plan of getting me to leave you the week before our wedding....”

“What are you talking about?”

“They came to my office today to try and pay me a lot of fucking money to disappear from your life.”

Your eyes widened.

“They tried to pay you to leave me…?”

“Yes, and it made me so fucking angry that they’d do such a thing and try to frame it like they were doing it out of love and wanting what was best for you when in reality, it’s what they want—I’m still fucking pissed.” You could tell he was with how upset he was getting as he continued speaking. “I suspected if they were gonna pull some shit, it’d be trying to make me doubt I was good enough for you or threaten me with what? I don’t know, but to try and pay me off? Like our love can be fucking bought? Or to assume money would mean more to me than you?” His eyes were getting watery. “You, my fucking soulmate. I told them no amount of money could get me to leave you. It was so fucked up, and I hate them,” he seethed. “I’m sorry, baby, but I hate your fucking parents, I hate your family, and I lost my cool and yelled at them for not loving you and being so goddamn despicable.”

It took a second for you to process that your parents flew thousands of miles to try and pay Javi to break things off. You knew they didn’t approve of him, but to go so low? It had anger welling up inside you the longer you thought about it, getting madder at how upset they made your sweet, caring, loving fiancé, who you knew absolutely laid into them for trying such a heinous thing.

After your mother’s abrupt change in opinion of him, Javi and you had been suspicious of how out of character it was for her. There was a tiny bit of hope about the size of a grain of sand that she was being sincere with how she called more in the following weeks, wanting to hear about your wedding plans and find out the date. When you thought about it, it wasn’t all that surprising she was just fishing for information to put together her scheme. She never had any intention of helping you when she offered to hire you a wedding planner; it was a ruse to buy her time to figure out how to stop the whole thing, and you threw a wrench in her plotting by getting married so soon.

And this was the final straw.

You’d given your family enough chances, and this time, they went too far—there was no coming back from this. They could never be trusted, and you wouldn’t let them continue treating the man you loved so horribly. This whole thing was confirmation they didn’t love you.

You reached to cradle his smooth cheeks in your hands.

“I’m so sorry, Javi. I’m sorry for what they put you through. I’m sorry for how they treated you. I’m sorry for them, and I’m done. They’ve shown me who they really are, and it’s the nail in the fucking coffin.” Tears didn’t come to your eyes, and you felt no sadness about cutting them out, probably because you’d already spent enough time mourning the loss of a relationship with them and had come to terms with it. “I’ve got you, your dad, your family, Robyn—I don’t need people full of so much hate. I’m done, it’s over. I won’t be answering any of their calls.”

His eyes closed in relief, his breath stuttering on a sob. The emotion was thick when he spoke, “I want that to be true, but there’s more…”

“What do you mean there’s more?”

He looked at you. “Your father gave us an ultimatum—I sign a prenup, and we go along with his terms, or you lose your inheritance; they’ll write you out of their wills, and our kids won’t get any money. They said all you’d have is your college fund and what your grandparents left you.” He held up a large manila envelope. “You can read everything he’ll require us to do, and I’ll sign if that's what you want.”

“Wait, let me guess his terms.”

He looked confused. “What?”

“Did he say I had to keep my maiden name?”

“Yes… or hyphenate it.”

You huffed out a breath. “Typical. God, did he say the shit about our children having my last name first? Which I know you have your dad and mom’s last names, but that’s how it’s ordered: your dad's, then mom’s; it’d be weird if we did mine first.”

“He did…”

“Yeah, I’d prefer our kids just being Peñas. Um, what else? Oh! Was there anything about our babies getting money for medical school?”

“Trusts… They can access at eighteen for medical school, twenty-five if not.”

“Figures.” Your eyes rolled. “Didn’t get access to any of my money until I was twenty-five.”

His free hand caressed your face, his expression still pinched in confusion. “Cielito, what is happening right now? Why aren’t you upset?”

Your eyebrows dipped. “Why would I be upset…? You’re not signing that.” You pointed at the packet. “I don’t want their money. Do you want their money?”

“What? No. I told your father exactly how much I didn’t want his fucking money. I’m not quite getting why you aren’t more upset about no longer speaking to them…”

“Oh! This is probably hard for you to understand because your parents love you unconditionally and are, in general, fantastic people. See, my parents’ love is conditional, which you’re holding proof of, and when you spend the first eighteen years of your life trying to live up to impossible standards for the tiniest scrap of affection, you kinda develop a lot of resentment toward the ones who are supposed to love you no matter what.

“Then there’s the way they think they can dictate my life choices as an adult,” you continued, “and only call me so often to keep tabs on what I’m up to in order to ensure I’m not doing anything that would embarrass them or bring shame to the family name—they’re fucking ridiculous about their traditions and keeping up appearances that their family is perfect.

“So, sure, I love them,” you told him, “but I’ve been tired of their bullshit for a while now and have been clear about my boundaries; plus, they knew they were on thin ice, and Javi, every time I’ve told you I’d choose you over them, I meant it.” You swiped his bangs off his forehead. “Your love is unconditional, and you genuinely love me; what’s better than that? And that’s why I don’t have any issues cutting them out of our lives and don’t care about losing my inheritance.

“You’ve seen firsthand how toxic they are,” you said, “and I won’t have them around us or our children. Our happiness is more important than keeping shitty people in our lives for money, and babe, believe me when I say we don’t need their money.”

His eyes were searching yours. “Are you sure?”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t—yes, Javier, I’m sure, I’m more than sure. You are what matters to me. You and our future babies are what matter to me.” You took the envelope from his hand and looked around the room, finding the small garbage can over by the door. “Swoosh!” you called out and tossed the documents toward it.

—them landing on the floor beside the trash with a thud.

“There goes my NBA career,” you mumbled.

A surprised sound left you when lips crushed against yours hard, Javi’s big, warm hands holding your face—there was a second delay before you started kissing him back just as fervently with your eyes closed, your fingers threading into the soft, thick strands of his hair, pressing your body into his as close as you could get without crawling into his skin.

His palm slid down your back to grab a handful of your ass, his tongue slipping between your lips to massage your own.

Javier could be an imposing figure with the broadness of his shoulders, his wide chest, and tall stature. He had a way of making you feel delicate and safe when he caged you in his arms, something ancient in the back of your mind repeating, 'Protector, protector, protector...' and purring happily.

He could easily get you to move where he wanted, and he walked you back until your legs hit the side of the bed. In the blink of an eye, he had your spine to the mattress with him on top of you, the kissing getting frantic.

"I love you," his sentence muffled against your mouth. "I love you—I need... I need." He sounded desperate, unable to articulate what he wanted, but if you thought about what he went through that day—the excitement of actually trying for the baby, the rage at meeting your parents, the worry at what you'd choose—he felt a lot of big emotions, and you knew his way of coping when he got overwhelmed was losing himself in another person's body.

He needed you.

His hips were cradled in your thighs, feeling him hardening.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Today, however, there were a couple of issues, the big one being that you were at your place of employment, and the second was you didn’t have time—Robyn was already doing you a solid by covering, and it’d be rude to go over your allotted fifteen minutes of break time.

Javi needed you, though, and you wanted to make him feel better.

With a quick glance at your watch, you had seven minutes to work with, a plan quickly forming in your head.

It wasn’t hard to get him to roll you both to have you on top of him, straddling his hips and shoving his arms above his head, where you held them down. Your mouths were fused together, the kiss becoming needy and hungry, your lips slick, and your tongues moving together with practiced familiarity. With a roll of your hips, you ground yourself against his hardened cock, heat zipping through your belly at the broken whine he made, which only encouraged you to keep going, continuing to grind, rubbing your pussy along his thick shaft.

He wanted to touch you, making an attempt to get his hands out of your hold, but you kept them firmly in place. You spoke quietly into his lips, “You gonna be a good boy and let me make you feel good?” He groaned, his entire body shivering under you.

His length was between the lips of your clothed cunt, grinding yourself against it, the friction to your clit causing sparks to dance in your core. "You gonna come for me?" you asked, keeping your voice low and nipping at his bottom lip, kissing him again, rough sounds rumbling from his chest.

Your mouth broke away from his, pressing your foreheads together. "You gonna think about how I still have you inside me?" you murmured, not slowing your movements, sliding your pussy over him repeatedly.

Occasionally, there were voices or the wheels of hospital beds rolling outside the room’s door as people passed by. Inside, where you and Javier were alone, the sounds filling the air were the mattress springs softly squeaking, his breathy moans, and your panted breaths.

"You gonna think about how you might've gotten me pregnant today?" you asked. That got you a groan and him bucking his hips.

"You gonna think about how you’ll fill me again when we get home? How you're gonna keep me all nice and stuffed so I have your baby in nine months?" A desperate sound left him, and he started thrusting up into you while you kept grinding.

"You gonna think about what I'll look like knocked up with your baby? The big belly and swollen tits? You like that my boobs are gonna get bigger, don't you?" You were reveling in his whimpers and moans, knowing you had him. "Have you imagined what I'll look like riding you when I'm pregnant?"

“Yes,” he answered breathlessly. His hands broke free, pawing at your body and zeroing in on your breasts with the enthusiasm of a man who just got home from war. “Get so fucking hard imagining it.” His fingers dug into your waist as he helped you move faster and pressed you harder against him.

“Are you gonna come thinking about it?”

The question made him gasp out, “Yes.”

You knew he was close when his breaths got shaky.

“Come for me, Javi,” you said. “Come on. Let go.”

Your mouth descended on his, the kiss sloppy and more of a mash of lips to quiet his sounds. He suddenly went still and stiffened with a choked whine, feeling his dick under you pulsing as he fell apart, your movements stopping. It was quiet in the room, save for the heavy breaths. Your mouth left his to kiss his chin, then both of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and finally, his forehead. You admired his pretty face with his closed eyes, and his reddened lips turned up in the cutest smile you couldn’t help but kiss.

His breathing started to even out. “How are you feeling?” you asked. Checking your watch to see you still had two minutes remaining.

“Better,” he whispered.

“Good.” The bed complained as you got off of him and it, taking a couple of steps to grab the box of tissues from the desk. “You’ll probably want to clean up the mess in your pants,” you said, setting them on the mattress beside him. “Sorry about that.”

“Liar,” he replied, blinking his eyes open all cat-like and turning his head to look at you.

You smiled. “I mean, it’s very hot, and I’m proud of myself. I wish I could stay longer, but I need to get back to work.” Bending down, you quickly pecked him on the lips before straightening. “Bye.”

You started to walk away, and his arm shot out to grab your hand. “Wait,” he said.

Meeting his gaze, you asked, “Yeah?”

His eyes had gone round, and he was looking at you like you hung the moon or painted the sky with stars; there was so much awe and love in his expression that it stole your breath and made you feel as though you were all that mattered to him, and wasn’t that the truth? It was hard to believe that someone loved you so completely and would do anything for you, knowing that had you said you wanted your inheritance, he would’ve gone along with all the shit that came with it—he would’ve hated it a lot, but Javi still would’ve done it for you because he loved you. He loved you more than any other person or thing on the planet, and when you had kids, he’d love them just as much, and that thrilled you.

You knew what he would say before the words left his mouth.

“I love you,” you said at the same time, and he smiled so big it made his eyes crinkle at the edges.

“What am I gonna say next?” he asked.

“Well, you had a day, and now you’re ridiculously happy about never having to deal with the people I’m related to again; add in that you just came and have all those love chemicals floating around in your body, you’re gonna wax poetic about how much you love me very beautifully and probably in Spanish because you tend to reset to your original programming and speak in your first language when you’re extremely lost in the sauce or come really hard.”

He huffed out an amused breath. “Smartass.”

“But am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Then lay it on me.”

“I don’t want to now—you already know what I was gonna say.”

“Okay, then I’m heading back to work,” you said, calling his bluff.

He frowned and squeezed your hand. “Wait, don’t go yet.”

“What’s up?”

“Te amo (I love you),” he replied. “Te amo tanto (I love you so much).”

“Yo sé y yo también te amo (I know and I love you, too).”

“No, cuando digo que te amo, es una promesa de que solo te amaré a ti por toda la eternidad (No, when I say I love you, it’s a promise that I will only love you for all eternity). Cuando digo que te amo, es una promesa de que sólo tú tendrás mi devoción completa (When I say I love you, it’s a promise that only you have my complete devotion). Cuando digo que te amo, las palabras vienen de lo más profundo de mi alma, donde has llenado la parte que me faltaba (When I say I love you, the words are coming from the depths of my soul where you’ve filled in the missing part of me). Cuando digo que te amo, lo siento en cada célula de mi cuerpo (When I say I love you, I feel it in every cell of my body). Cuando digo que te amo, lo digo en serio: te amo y siempre te amaré hasta el fin de los tiempos (When I say I love you, I mean it: I love you, and I’ll always love you until the end of time). Te amo, Cielito (I love you, Cielito).”

He had your eyes feeling a little misty at what he said and how it was apparent he meant every word.

“God, I love you,” you told him, “and I hate that I can’t articulate how much I love you as poetically as you do—just know I love you as much as you love me, and I’m yours forever, and I mean forever. Let me kiss you, and then I really have to go. I’ll lock the door on my way out so you can clean up.”

“Baby, I don’t need you to say sappy bullshit for me to know how fucking much you love me.” He brought your hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “I feel it in all the things you do for me. Like throwing away the prenup and knowing I was fucked up about everything today and making me cream my pants like an inexperienced teenager getting his dick touched for the first time to make me feel better. I know you love me, and that’s why I’m marrying you next week and am so fucking excited to start a family with you.”

“Oh, Javi,” you gasped. “You creamed your pants like a besotted grown man getting his dick touched by the woman he’s madly in love with—I’m being honest when I say it’s romantic and very hot.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer by the arm, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, hoping he felt it in your kiss, the all-consuming love you had for him.

“You are the woman I’m madly in love with,” he murmured into your mouth.

“And you’re the man, I’m madly in love with,” came your muffled reply.

There were a lot of ways your life could’ve turned out and many paths you could’ve chosen. What you knew for certain was they all would’ve led you to him. Mistakes weren’t mistakes, all of your choices were right, even if they were wrong, and it didn’t matter where you lived in the past or all of the people you’d met over the years; the invisible string tying you together would’ve somehow, some way pulled you to him in that grocery store on that hot summer day because it was the perfect moment in both of your lives to find one another—you were two lost souls who finally found what you’d been missing: each other.

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[chatsukimi]

POV. STREETRACER!TOJI asks to borrow your last name.

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

“What do you mean you don’t want your last name printed on your uniform?”

Toji, your trust fund racer and favourite bet, shrugs. “Already said, I won’t race with the name Zen’in.”

You sit down at your desk. It’s after school, and you and the spoiled soon-to-be college reject are sitting in the classroom.

You throw your hands up. “But why? What’s bad about Zen’in?”

“Everything,” he deadpans.

Staring at the guy for a flat five seconds, you realise he won’t change his mind, or explain himself, which you should have expected from a guy going broke despite his millionaire family.

Toji props himself up on the desk beside yours, leaning on his knees as though thinking. A few seconds pass.

He offers, “why don’t I use yours?”

“My what?”

“Your last name,” he suggests, breezing through the prospect at horrifying speed. “It works. You’re sponsoring me anyways.”

You blink twice. Delayed reaction.

“What?!” you squeak out.

Toji smirks, leaning on his palm watching you. “What?” he repeats, playing innocent. He sports a smug look in his green eyes and even bothers to scan your notebook splayed out on your desk, reading your last name out loud to himself. “Nice.”

No. Not nice. They’ll assume you're- you're- your cheeks heat up.

He looks at you, bearing a smile that's all teeth. 'We could be cousins.'

The guy even dares to pat you on the shoulder at that. You shake him off. No one at the race would believe you two are related.

"No."

'No?' he echoes, cocking his head, tempting you to speak. 'What could we be then?'

"We can be... can be..." you think to yourself, before noticing his hands landing on your shoulder, massaging them like a habit. He's sauntered over from his chair.

Comforting, but still...

Bad habit.

Your heart stutters.

Baaad habit.

"Hm?" He chuckles when he sees you realise. "What would we be?"

You swallow, the small proximity between the two of you taking your mind on a field trip; him standing behind your seat and you, fidgeting your hands under the desk like crazy.

"Nothing."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think taking your last name means nothing," he presses, serious.

How is he saying this with such a straight face? You're looking anywhere in the classroom but Toji, hoping he might just drop the subject. What's wrong with his last name anyways? What is he even insinuating? Does he really-

"I don't think I'll get tired of that face in ten years' time," he states.

Toji Zen'in is a blunt guy. When he said he hates his last name, he meant it. When he says he wants yours, well, no one's calling this guy a liar, are they?

It's been a while since you started sponsoring his races, and he's grown accustomed to your face in the stands. Always too far away, though. You always have on that dispassionate expression as a gambler, as though he's one of the rest.

For once, he cannot be just one of the rest.

“I'm... not sure what you mean." Your eyes move to the sunset outside, ignoring the way you bite your lip.

He studies your face for a minute before smirking again. "You're dabbling in illegal motorsports and can't look me in the eye."

You wince.

You murmur, "well then maybe you should say directly what you mean then."

You're so cute like this, pretending you don't like him too.

He walks around the table to face you properly. All of a sudden you can imagine your name on his back as he gets into the vehicle to race, as the stands to hear the cheers of the crowd. He'd wear it well. He coughs to get your attention.

“I’m saying.” He places his hands on his hips, shrugging as he goes. “Maybe let's be married. Just one day.”

Only, he doesn't intend for it to be one day. He wants you to remember your last name on him, keep the moment in your head; he'll wear it better than anyone else.

…

It is at that moment when the times come out and the trophies are awarded that he drapes his arm around your waist. The wink he throws your way, accomplice. Spectators ask what's his name.

And this is the moment you become more than his financier or the bets you place on him to win.

He speaks it into the microphone, proud for the stadium, the world. to hear.

And this is the moment you glance up at him with more than just a shallow smile, saying 'congrats'.

The word reverberates over the race track in a powerful wave.

He spoke into the microphone and the name is yours.

pt. 1

[heavcnslyre]

chapter seven — j.f. ( masterlist )

AFTERGLOW.

“tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine,

even when i lose my mind”

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you wake up the next morning a few minutes before five, and you’re immediately wide awake. suddenly, you really regret going to bed so early. you often sleep in while at cousins, at least until nine, so waking up at five in the morning feels like your nightmare. after almost thirty minutes of trying to convince yourself to go back to sleep, you finally give up. you stand up, stretch, then throw on an oversized crewneck as you sneak out your door. you slowly tiptoe downstairs, careful not to make any noises, and out the door, cherishing the fresh breeze as it gently brushes your face.

you slowly make your way to the beach. the sun was yet to rise, but it wasn’t completely dark out. the air was colder than usual due to the storm last night and there was debris everywhere, but otherwise, it was a beautiful morning.

you find a flat spot in the sand and sit down, facing the ocean. the waves were choppy, as they often are after a huge storm. if you were honest, this was how you liked the beach. the waves were fun to watch when they were like this, and you knew that they’d calm down by daytime so it would be safe to surf later. the silence on the beach with nothing but the crashing of the waves to fill the sound…perfection. it almost put you back to sleep.

as you watch the waves, images from your fight with jeremiah come back to your mind. you felt like an idiot, honestly. you had used your own insecurities to pick a fight with him and blamed him for how you felt, when truthfully, you never even asked him how he felt. maybe he really never meant to hurt you. you just wished that instead of fighting, the two of you had talked. really talked. you’ve never fought with him like that before. you really have never fought with him at all before.

soft footsteps approached you from behind, and suddenly, jeremiah was sitting next to you. he looks out at the water, not looking at you, but you watch him closely. your heart began to race as soon as you saw him. he seems so calm. he always does, honestly. he has never been one to let emotion drive his mood. except for last night, of course. but you blame yourself for that.

the two of you sit in silence for what feels like forever, your mind going in every direction, attempting to piece together some sort of apology. before you can say anything, jeremiah takes a deep breath.

“the day i knew i was in love with you was my eleventh birthday,” he says, as if he was casually discussing the weather. your head whips over to stare at him, wide-eyed, but he still was staring at the water. “i remember, so vividly, waking up in the middle of the night because you were in my room, decorating it. you were, uh, trying to do it quietly, but you were ten, so that wasn’t the easiest. i woke up and saw you doing that and pretended i was asleep because i didn’t wanna ruin the surprise. the next morning there was a homemade birthday cake on the counter and you… you had flour on your left cheek. my mom told me later that you insisted on making the cake for me yourself.”

he risks a glance at you and you’re still staring at him, wide-eyed. he continues. “i obviously didn’t know what love really felt like at eleven. but from that day on, you were the only person i ever cared about. i always wanted to be around you. i talked about you constantly. my mom knew it before i did, actually. at the end of last summer she asked me why i hadn’t made a move yet because the two of us made it painfully obvious we had feelings for each other. and i guess i didn’t really have an answer for her other than that i was scared.”

you stare at him, looking between his eyes. “scared?” you ask, your voice coming out small. he clears his throat.

“you’re my best friend, (y/n),” he says. “i can flirt with anyone and get with anyone else because it doesn’t matter…but with you, it does. i’ve always known that if you and me were going to be together, it needed to be perfect. that’s why the first night on the beach, when you told me you were dating peter, i got so upset. i guess i thought that was going to be my perfect moment. that’s not your fault, though. i made up this story in my head and i just…i didn’t know how to act when it didn’t go perfectly. i guess for a while i kinda thought i lost my chance with you.”

you don’t answer him, you just stare forward at the waves, which seem to be calming down. he clears his throat. “i’m sorry, i just needed to make sure you knew everything.”

“no!” you exclaim, “no, don’t apologize. i’m just… i don’t really know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” jeremiah assures. “i didn’t come here and expect you to declare your love for me back, i just needed to uh, put that out there. i don’t like when you’re mad at me.”

you stare at him closely. his body language seems to have stiffened and he avoids your eye contact again. you shake your head. “jere, i did all that for your birthday because i realized that i loved you, too.

“you were always so perfect to me. you taught me exactly how i should be treated by a guy, i genuinely never felt more respected than when i was with you. i…i kinda feel like i’ve just been waiting for you my whole life. like, every guy i talked to, i constantly compared to you. even peter, who i thought would break me out of this. he was never you, and i think that is what ruined a lot of my relationships. you are the only person i’ve ever truly wanted, i guess i just never knew how to admit it fully.”

before you can say anything else, jeremiah takes your face in his hands and kisses you. it was exactly like how you had imagined it your whole life. he was so gentle with you yet kissed you with passion, as if his entire world depended on you in that moment. you melt into him, tangling your hands in his beautiful, soft, hair as he moves his hands to hold your waist, pulling you closer to him. when you eventually pull apart, he rests his forehead on yours. he has an uncontrollable grin on his face. so do you.

“been waiting for you to do that all summer,” you say.

“i’ve been waiting to do that for years,” he replies. you laugh and cup his cheek in your hand, rubbing his face softly. the two of you stare at each other, dopey, lovestruck looks on both of your faces.

“jere?”

“hm?”

“you should be belly’s escort to the deb hall.”

“what?” he asks, shocked. “no, i can’t, not now.”

“she’s one of your best friends,” you say. “she deserves to have someone good take her, like you said. you’ll take her as a friend. i think she would really appreciate it.”

jeremiah sighs. “are you sure? i…i don’t wanna do anything to ruin this.”

you laugh. “jere, i swear to you, i wouldn’t let anything take you away from me. no matter what we are.”

he kisses you again, somehow with more passion this time. you smile into the kiss, feeling the same butterflies in your stomach that you had gotten from him your whole life. you had a feeling that you would always get butterflies when you’re with him.

the two of you end up laying in the sand, your head on his chest, listening to both the waves and his heartbeat. he holds you tightly and you cherish this moment. you knew that no matter what happened with the two of you, you’d always have this moment. you could always remember him like this.

eventually, after the sun rose, you head inside. you sit on a barstool as jeremiah starts a pot of coffee and searches in the pantry for something to make for breakfast. you sit and watch him, imagining if this was always your life. imagining early morning lie-ins with him, making breakfast for each other, spending your days together, supporting each other through everything. most of all, you imagined being with him year-round. you had never once spent a winter together, and suddenly, that was all you could think about. jeremiah caught you staring at him and laughs. “what’re you thinking about?”

“oh, you know,” you sigh dreamily. “marriage, kids, retirement. everything.”

he laughs again. “moving fast, huh? big plans.”

“of course,” you nod. “you making me coffee just convinced me that was next.”

he winks at you as he hands you a cup of coffee, made exactly how you like it. “good. that was my plan all along.”

a few minutes pass before belly wanders into the kitchen, yawning. she stops in surprise when she sees the two of you. “what are you guys doing up so early? and…um, together?”

you laugh and take a sip of your coffee. “just talking. what are you doing?”

she rubs her eyes as she sits next to you at the bar. “ugh, early deb practice. last couple weeks and they’re really drilling everything into our heads.”

“oh, speaking of,” jeremiah spins around and glances at you. you nod, and he faces belly. “i’d still love to be your escort, if you’ll have me.”

belly looks between the two of you and you give her an encouraging smile. she turns to jeremiah and smiles. “thank you, jere. you have no idea how much you’re saving my ass.”

“anything for my conklins’.” he winks at you then turns away, back to the eggs he had started cooking. belly gives you a ‘what the fuck was that’ look at you wave her off, mouthing that you’ll explain later. soon enough, jeremiah serves both of you perfectly cooked scrambled, cheesy eggs. belly shortly after excuses herself to get ready for practice, and jeremiah checks his watch sheepishly.

“i uh, guess i should go get ready too, right?” he asks you. you nod.

“oh yeah. you gotta make an appearance so everyone knows you’re real,” you say. he gives you a weak smile, then comes to stand in front of you.

“are you sure you’re okay with this?”

you grab his hand. “jere, i promise i am. anyways, we’ve kissed like, two times. i cant get too possessive this early.”

he laughs and kisses you softly. “what about three times?”

“still too little,” you say thoughtfully. “gotta get to like, sixty before i can start voicing my opinions.”

jeremiah hums and kisses your forehead lightly. “sure. so, by tomorrow night?”

you laugh and push him away lightly. “go, get ready. go be belly’s prince for a few weeks. i’ll be here when you get back.”

with one last kiss he leaves, but he turns around and gives you one last smile before he fully leaves the room and goes upstairs. you take a deep breath and rub your face, attempting to conceal the redness which you were sure was appearing on your cheeks. jeremiah had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world. you hope, more than anything, that would never change.

[purriteen]

Ad victor spolia, chapter six

content warnings: incest, manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), named!reader, ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, age gap (5-6 years), somnophilia

author’s note: Tigris my beloved I'm so sorry 😭🫶🏻

BIG extra warning for this chapter!! smut, Coriolanus Snow is fucking insane, choking, non-con (again), he treats reader very badly in this chapter

you are responsible for your own media consumption I have warned you

word count: 4,024

Previous chapter

It had been a few weeks since Romulus and your supposed attacker, a man whom you didn't even recognise, were executed side by side. Everyone had extended their sympathies and condolences to you, not because you'd lost your childhood friend over an accusation that was so obviously false it was painful, or because you had to witness two likely innocent men being fried to death in a surprisingly swift manner, pioneered by doctor Volumnia Gaul herself.

But rather because it took so long for you to get justice. It seemed as if everyone knew more about your supposed assault than you yourself. Once again your brother was ten steps ahead, painstakingly fabricating your entire life and neglecting to tell you until it was already cemented.

You no longer woke up in his bed every morning. You no longer exchanged pleasantries over breakfast, congratulated him or feigned interest in hearing him talk about his day.

Coriolanus hated it. He had intended for the experience to toughen you up a little, make you see the world the same as him, help you see other people for the vipers that they are. But instead it seemed you had turned on him, pinning him as the viper.

Scolding himself for getting impatient with you had quickly grown unproductive, and so he realised he had to solve things elsehow.

That was where Tigris came in.

Although she didn't know it, she would play an important role in pushing you in the only right direction. Losing Tigris would be the last nail in the coffin.

Even if you weren't the same girl you once were by the end of this, Coriolanus would get what he wanted from you. He always did.

To the victor go the spoils.

Being told that your brother had arranged for Tigris to come over for tea was like a godsend, even if it had been arranged by someone you could only describe as the complete opposite.

Romulus' execution had washed away any hopes you had of your brother being a decent human being. You felt like a fool for believing he might actually be anything other than a callous, miserly serpent.

But it was no use crying over spilled milk. You had to get out of here, and your cousin was your only hope.

Unbeknownst to you, Coriolanus had been as meticulous in shifting Tigris' view of you as he was with everything else.

You immediately knew something wasn't right when you sat down with her in the sitting room.

You had never seen Tigris angry, and that wasn't about to change. But there was this unsavoury look in her eyes, one that you could most accurately describe as sorrowful. Every time that she looked at you, it was as if she was mourning something.

You couldn't bear it.

After a few minutes of fluctuating between lukewarm small talk and an agonising silence, you spoke up.

"Tigris.. Please, talk to me."

It was pathetically subdued, your request. Not conveying even half of the desperation you felt, nor the confusion, the disillusionment.

It only takes her a few seconds to respond, but as her golden brown eyes peer into you for those deathly silent few seconds, you feel as if several years of your life have passed by in a single breath.

"You've changed." Is all that she says, and judging by the look on her face, even that takes a great deal of effort. You can feel her eyes trailing down to your blouse, and it takes you a moment to realise why she seems to have latched onto it.

As you clothed yourself earlier that day, you hadn't thought much of the impression your outfit would give. You were used to having your clothes laid out for you every morning, and although you didn't particularly like it, it was undeniably convenient.

But today, you were dressed in a pussybow blouse, a crisp white colour with buttons and the bow itself in your brother's signature deep maroon colour. Your hair, which you had for years insisted on keeping relatively natural looking, was done up into an overly complex updo.

You looked like all those wealthy, prissy Capitol ladies you and your cousin used to secretly poke fun at. Like your power-hungry brother's wet dream. The version of you that he had painstakingly curated to align with everything that he wanted to portray himself as. You were aware that your image, your entire person, was to him an extension of his own image, but you would've never thought that Tigris would be fooled by it.

Your blood runs cold as the truth crashes into you all at once.

You knew your brother was vicious and that he certainly wouldn't hesitate to keep you and Tigris apart if it was in his best interest. But you never considered how all of this would appear to Tigris, what she would make of how Coriolanus had portrayed you.

At least, you never considered that it might be this.

You thought she would always take your side, that she would always be the one to listen when nobody else did.

The realisation that that is no longer the case hits you like a thousand bullet wounds, puncturing your remaining hope like a balloon.

"Tigris.." You begin, your voice trembling, a look of disbelief and pure regret plastered on your face.

"Why did you ask me here, Hersilia?" She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She too looks like she's on the brink of tears, her lips pursed.

"You were like a little sister to me. Then when Grandma'am died, you pushed me away, you wouldn't even speak to me," She breathlessly chuckles, wiping a stray tear with her sleeve.

"You love your brother, I can't blame you for that. But you didn't have to abandon our relationship for that.." She says, and although her voice is silken and smooth as always, with a tinge more of hurt, it feels as if she's just driven a dagger through your heart.

"That isn't-" You begin to speak, but you're unable to stop a sob from escaping your throat, the distress overpowering your voice.

Through tear-filled, blurry eyes you watch as Tigris rises from her seat, sniffling as she walks over to you. You're surprised when she takes your hands in hers, gently circling your knuckles with her thumbs. You can tell she's struggling to not burst into tears herself.

"I love you, Hessie, and I know there's still good in you. But you chose him, and if you continue like this you'll be stuck with that choice for good. I tried, but I can't help you any more than I already have." She whispers to you, pressing a shaky kiss to the top of your head, before letting go of your hands and leaving you all alone with your lukewarm cup of tea.

The door quietly shuts behind you, and a maid rushes in as you break into violent sobbing, completely unreceptive to her attempts to calm you down. The last thing you remember is Eugenie entering the room, and yourself finally allowing her to hold you as you bawl.

You know she means well, and she manages to calm you down enough to stop your hyperventilating, but you're also painfully aware that the pain you feel now will never truly go away.

The cathartic relief as you stop weeping will never come.

You awake later that day to find Coriolanus sitting at your bedside, your own bedside this time. You're back in your own room on the other side of the presidential palace.

He's still dressed in his woollen coat, his hair neatly styled as it was when he left this morning. He gives you a weak smile when you look up at him, stretching out his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, and the audacity of him to ask such a question in this moment makes your blood boil. Perhaps he's already forgotten how he ruined your life, picked it apart down to the bone, all without even telling you, the deceptive fuck.

You used to think your brother wanted to keep the family together, that you were important to him. You allowed him to ensnare you until he had taken everything you once held dear from you right under your nose. You hate that you allowed him to get away with it, with everything.

You don't even realise what you've done until he has your wrist in a grip so tight you feel as if he might crush it, his eyes narrowed and cheek marred with a handprint so bright red it almost looks comical.

You thrash in his grasp, your free hand balled up into a fist as you repeatedly jab it at his chest. But in a matter of seconds he has you pinned down on your chest, your wrists restrained behind your back.

His hot breath tickles your skin, making the hairs on your neck stand as he whispers, no, hisses into your ear. "Do you really think it's a good idea to pick a fight with the only person left in the world who cares about you? Huh?"

His cruel, taunting words cut deeper into you than a knife, making you thrash in his grasp once again as a string of cries and sobs spill from your mouth.

"You were never on my side, you sick bastard!" You spit out, but he quickly pushes your face down into the pillow which effectively shuts you up, his white-knuckled grasp on the hair on the back of your head painfully tight.

"Just shut up, you ungrateful fucking slut. You have no one left to turn to but me. You should be thankful that I don't cut out your tongue or banish you to the districts," He almost shouts at you, but you can tell he's already struggling to keep his voice down. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears as you struggle to breathe.

You realise once he straddles the back of your thighs what his intentions are, much too late, as always. His bulge presses against your thighs, horror and disbelief taking over you as you make a final, adrenaline-fuelled attempt at fighting him off. You manage to break your wrists out of his iron grip, only for him to release your head and instead force your hands back into place, his free hand rustling with his belt.

You writhe and shout, but nobody comes to your rescue. He must've cleared this wing of the building beforehand. "You're my brother, you degenerate fuck! If you do this you're no better than those district savages you speak so unkindly of!"

Your words are soon followed by an anguished yell as he bends your wrist at a painful angle, only letting up when you feel as if it's about to snap. In the blink of an eye he has you on your back, hands pinned down at your stomach as he leans in close, his face mere inches away from you.

"Yes, Hersilia, I am your brother," He hisses, grabbing you by your hair and forcing you to keep your eyes on him. "And I made you. I raised you, moulded you into exactly what you are today. You were no one and nothing, and I gave you everything," He continues, his words coming out strained and harsh as he speaks right into your ear, accentuating every syllable of that last word.

"Do you think I did all of that for nothing? So that you could stray from the future I built for us, for our family, so that you could abandon me?" He breathlessly chuckles, his hand working to undo the buttons of your blouse as you struggle to hold back tears, teeth digging into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

As he unties the ribbon around your neck, he replaces it with his hand, snug around your windpipe.

“Answer me.” He snarls, cruelly cutting off your air supply as he waits for an answer. You meekly shake your head in response, to which he lets out a humourless laugh and lets go of your neck. Within the blink of an eye his hand comes back down, hard, on your left cheek, before returning to slither around your neck.

"Useless." He mutters, taking a moment to burn the image of your dishevelled state into his mind before he lets go of your neck, yanking open the rest of the buttons of your blouse to reveal your bare midriff and bra-clad chest. You start to squirm again and he pins your hands above your head in response, his free hand grasping your chin hard enough to make you grimace.

"Hey, look at me. Quit squirming or I might as well let doctor Gaul run one of her little experiments on your head, yeah? Let her stir around your pathetic fucking brain." He practically growls at you, and with the threat of whatever lobotomy-like operation doctor Gaul had in store looming over your head, you finally stop writhing for a while and let the tears fall freely.

He resumes pedantically undressing you, holding your left hand up and pulling the sleeve off whilst the right one remains pinned over your head before repeating the process with the other. Finally he discards your blouse on the floor, a sly grin on his face as he takes in the sight of your barely covered breasts.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He muses, his hand tugging at the zip of your skirt. He soon gets impatient, carelessly yanking it down over your hips and finally tossing it aside, which earns him a surprised gasp. The look on his face is amused, clearly pleased with himself, as he takes in the sight of you in only your underwear.

"Didn't know my own little sister liked to dress like such a little whore," He taunts, making your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You choose not to point out that he's the one who bought everything in your underwear drawer, although this set was definitely among the skimpier options.

"Look at you. Wearing that barely-there bra and those flimsy little panties, and yet you're still trying to hide yourself from me." He sighs, his hand delving in between your squeezed-shut thighs.

"Open." He instructs, and this time the playfulness has entirely vanished from his voice. You swallow hard, trying to brace yourself for the impending humiliation, and slowly spread your legs wider.

"That's better." He pats your cheek almost affectionately, and by god you want to bite his fingers off. You've finally calmed your crying, but when he hooks his digits under the waistband of your panties, you're damn close to starting back up. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

So you put on your best poker face, managing to maintain it as he slowly, slowly peels your panties off, revealing your puffy cunt to him. He curses lowly under his breath, and you grit your teeth as you watch him absentmindedly pocketing your panties. Next he hastily unclasps the back of your bra, pulling it off of you and carefully releasing your wrists, now that you're caged in between his arms anyways.

"Don't try to escape, okay? I've got guards stationed just outside. Just let it happen, unless you'd like them to see you naked too." He warns, and you let out a mumbled 'okay'. The fact that his guards know what's happening in your bed in this very moment, and aren't doing anything to stop it, makes your stomach turn.

Even though you were anticipating it, feeling his hands on your naked body makes your breath catch in your throat. His hands explore your exposed tits as his knees settle in between yours, ensuring that your legs stay spread and your sex remains on full display for him.

"Would you look at that, you're wet already," He mocks as he swipes his index finger across your folds, coating his fingertip in your juices. He leans down to whisper in your ear as he slowly pushes his index and middle finger inside.

"You've practically been asking for this, you know. I was going to take you in your sleep that night, when you passed out drunk in my bed, but I wanted you to be awake for this moment." He admits without the slightest bit of hesitation, sending a shiver down your spine. You bite back a groan when he starts to move his fingers in and out at a steady pace.

Without even saying anything about it, he's confirmed what you already knew deep down, that what he claimed lead up to you falling asleep in his bed that night was just an excuse, something he fabricated so he could keep you close to him.

"You're disgusting," You manage to whisper out through gritted teeth, earning you a disinterested sigh.

"And you're much prettier when you're not talking."

His words nauseate you, wondering what it was that everyone else saw in him to earn him the trust of the Capitol citizens. He undoubtedly had superficial charm, but you found it strange that nobody saw past it and saw him for the snake he truly was, even though you yourself had been played for a fool too once.

You're just about to say something in response when his fingertips graze your sweet spot, a whimper falling from your lips before you can stop it. Coriolanus' grin widens at this, starting to repeatedly prod at your g-spot with each thrust of his fingers.

You tense up when he pulls out slightly, pressing his ring finger to your entrance, and before he can push it deeper your own hand paws at his wrist, trying to push him away.

The look on his face instantly hardens, grabbing both of your hands in his and grabbing his previously discarded belt, raising an eyebrow at you as if to warn you that he'll restrain you again if you keep fighting back.

You avert your gaze in shame, mumbling out an 'I'm sorry' in hopes of dissuading him. He reluctantly releases your wrists, tossing his leather belt aside.

"You're on thin ice." He says coldly, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Without warning he pushes all three fingers back inside at once, drawing a whine from your lips.

Coriolanus relishes your mortified and sordid state, taking great pleasure in being the first man to taint your innocence. The first and only man who'll ever get to see you like this.

He goes slow at first, allowing you to adjust and himself not to miss out on any of your reactions, wanting to hear every little sound, study every facial expression you make. If he hadn't already waited so long for this moment, he'd have taken his time, made you writhe and squirm and beg him not to stop before he even considered properly fucking you.

But it doesn't take long for him to get impatient. He picks up the pace as he leans down to trail kisses down your neck, planting a dark hickey that would be hard to hide just below where your left cheek ended.

Finally he retreats, bringing his fingers to your lips and watching as you hesitantly take them into your mouth, licking your own juices off of his fingers. As soon as he deems them clean enough, and you mortified enough, he pulls them out and hurriedly undoes his button-down shirt.

You watch with dread as he unzips his pants, taking them off and leaving him only in his boxers and his open shirt. But soon his undergarments come off too, and your breath hitches in your throat when he bares his shaft. He's both thicker and definitely longer than you thought.

He wastes no time in pressing his tip, reddish and already leaking precum, against your puffy folds, rubbing it up and down a couple times to coat himself in your wetness, before grabbing ahold of your waist with his free hand and starting to guide himself inside with the other. It's a tight fit, and you can't help but cry out as the head of his cock slides past your hymen, providing a painful stretch.

Your hands come up to paw at his chest, but this doesn't seem to deter him one bit, as he simply keeps going, forcing himself deeper inside until you can feel his tip prodding directly at your cervix.

There's still another inch or two to go, Coriolanus thinks, but you'll have to work on that over time.

He steadily pulls back until his tip slides back through your hymen, the sore ring of muscles clamping down around him on instinct as he practically slams back in, burying his cock as deep as it would go. A shameless groan spills from his throat, his hand gripping at and bunching up the bedsheets right next to you as he repeats this motion a couple more times.

Deciding that your legs are getting in the way, he swiftly grabs you by the back of your knees and practically folds you in half, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist for stability. He leans down to press his lips against yours, and you can practically feel his victorious, shit-eating grin on your mouth as he slowly and roughly pumps his cock in and out.

From the outside, the two of you could pass for young lovers, tangled in an intimate embrace and bursting with mutual affection. But in reality, he's a serpent masquerading as a man, slowly, slowly sucking the life out of you.

"You're nothing without me," He grunts lowly as he fucks into you, hand wrapped around your throat. When he receives no response he squeezes slightly, eyes boring into yours. "Say it." He emphasises his words with another, harsher squeeze, refusing to break eye contact as he relentlessly pounds your weeping cunt.

"'M nothin', nothin' without you," You blubber out, looking up at him through teary eyes. You never thought your brother would take it this far, but now it's clear that he'd been waiting for his chance to defile you ever since you first moved into this house of horrors.

You've lost count of how many times he's forced you to cum around his cock by now. With him frequently asphyxiating you, never allowing you to fully catch your breath before his hands reclaim their place around your throat, your mind has been perpetually hazy for the past hour.

You know for sure however that he's came inside you twice already. Enough for his spend to be leaking out of your sore mound and trickling down onto the sheets. You pleaded with him to pull out the first time, but by the time he approached his second orgasm of the night you had given up.

At the end of the day, you knew that Coriolanus would never allow you to get pregnant out of wedlock, especially not with your own brother's child. He would make sure it didn't take one way or another, for the sake of his own reputation. Certainly not for your sake.

He lightly slaps your left cheek, his thrusts starting to get sloppy as his cock throbs deep inside of you. "Look at me. Look up at me, stupid fuckin' slut." He huffs, and even though he's called you worse before, the vulgarity of his words still manage to take you by surprise.

He flashes you a crooked grin when your eyes finally meet his, savouring the fucked out, defeated look on your face. Your beautiful eyes, lined with smudged mascara that trails down the valley of your cheeks, filled with misguided disdain and crushed hope. Your soft lips, puffy and agape as you gasp for air.

Coriolanus had never felt quite this enamoured with you before. On a bad day, you were pretty, but now that he had you splayed out underneath him, your sweet cunt wrapped around his shaft, you were nothing short of divine.

This was the version of you he adored the most.

Tame, vapid and pliant.

taglist: @caffeine-addict-slug, @phoward89, @catesbaroquecasahouse, @priyajoyy, @euphemiaamillais @harvey-malfoy

so likeee... y'all want an epilogue or no?

[joekeeryswife]

ballet recital - m.m

a/n: hello honeys! how cute is this concept! loving the idea of Mason being a girl dad (sorry not sorry lol). i didn’t know how to end it lmfao. if you have any requests send them through!! anyways enjoy reading 🩰

taglist: @noturbabe22 @luvvtrent @peterparkerbae @masonreds

“are you excited for your ballet recital honey?” you heard Mason’s voice as he spoke to your 5 year old daughter Margot.

“yes daddy i am. are you still coming?” she had been excited for this recital for months and so had Mason.

this was a big deal for all of you and it just so happened that her recital landed on the day after Mason’s football game for England.

The squad had travelled to Portugal for the game and you both hadn’t even realised it at the time. “i’m sorry sweetheart, you know i’m in Portugal for a game but i promise i’ll make it next time”

she pouted and looked defeated but she understood that her dad had to work and nodded. but what she didn’t know was you and Mason had planned for him to fly home the day after early in the morning and surprise her.

“you know i would love to be there angel and i will be there next time. don’t get upset, it hurts my heart” she put on a brave face and showed him a tight lipped smile.

“i know daddy. love you” she handed the phone back to you and ran off to her room, you knew she was upset and that hurt you. “she looked heartbroken. that made me feel awful, you should go check on her” you nodded and smiled softly.

“we will be watching your game tonight. i’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” Mason nodded and smiled back at you “i love you” he said and brushed his hand through his hair.

“i love you too. be safe” with that you ended the phone and made your way to your daughters room. you knocked on her door carefully hoping to not frighten her.

you could hear the cutest voice on the other side say ‘come in’ so you did. she was on her bedroom floor playing with her barbie’s she’d gotten for christmas a couple months before. “are you okay sweetie?” you sat down next to her and ran your hand up and down her back.

she nodded and continued to play with her dolls. “would you like me to face-time daddy whilst you’re preforming?” she shrugged, you could tell she was upset and wanted her dad to be there.

“you’ve got so many people coming to see you remember? you’ve got not your nanny’s, grandads, uncle lewis and auntie jas and your cousins are coming” she looked up at you, her eyes filled with sadness. “it’s not the same” you nodded, agreeing.

“it’s not but daddy wouldn’t want you to be sad would he? he’d want you to be excited about this baby. he’s very proud of you” your hands went to her cheeks and stroked them softly. “do you think he’d want us to facetime him? he wouldn’t get annoyed?” you frowned.

“why would he be annoyed honey? he would love for you to facetime him” you were confused “but he has football and we would be interrupting him” even though Margot was only five she was so smart, one of the smartest in her class.

“absolutely not. your father would not be annoyed at all, i bet you he’d be crying on the phone whilst watching you” you lent in and kissed her forehead. “don’t you go worrying about it sweetheart, we can do whatever you want and if you want me to facetime him whilst you’re preforming then i will” she nodded.

“you are so beautiful Margot, do you know that?” you blushed and nodded again “i love you mama” your heart melted. “i love you more sweet girl”

-♡-

Mason had landed an hour ago and was now on his way to the dance hall, he was messaging you every so often to give you updates on where he was and how long he was going to be and it looked like he was getting there ten minutes before it was Margot’s classes turn to preform.

you met up with your parents, your siblings, Masons parents and his siblings at the front of the dance hall. Margot was dressed in her pink leotard, tutu and ballet shoes. “wow look at you pretty girl” Lewis said as Margot ran up to him.

he picked her up and showered her in kisses, careful to not mess up her bun. “thank you uncle lewis” you were lucky that both of your families were close, everyone got along. “you excited to preform honey? you’re gonna do so good” your mum kissed Margot’s cheek where a deep red blush spread on her cheeks.

“i’m super excited” she squealed “we should go in and find our seats, Margot do you want to go find your teacher?” you asked as Lewis put her down. she nodded. you knelt down in front of her and gave her a kiss on her forehead.

“you’re gonna do so well, you’re beautiful, the best ballerina i’ve ever seen. no nerves, no tears because you are gonna do amazing. and, i’m going to facetime your dad as soon as the show starts okay?” she smiled and nodded. Margot got nervous easily which sometimes made her cry but you knew today she wouldn’t, she was going to do great.

you all entered the dance hall and was greeted by Margot’s teacher who pointed you in the right direction to your seats and took Margot backstage. you were all practically front row and it was shocking as there was so many people here.

you saved a seat for Mason next to you and the hall quickly filled up. it was 5 minutes before the kids got on stage that Mason finally came through the doors to the hall and was searching around for you all. he spotted you and quickly walked to you all and kissed your cheek. “hi honey” he made you jump but nevertheless you knew who it was and quickly turned towards him.

you kissed him and he sat down next to you “i missed you” he said, placing his hand on your thigh. “you were gone for one day, you couldn’t of missed me that much” you rolled your eyes but blushed slightly. “one day too long, i wanted to come home as soon as the game finished. i’m never going away without you both again” you giggled at how precious he was.

the lights in the hall dimmed and the curtains opened to a stage which was decorated beautifully. your eyes focused for your little girl who stepped out with her classmates, they all stood in a line and looked around the room for their parents.

Margot locked eyes with Mason and blushed brightly and waved at him, seeing her on the stage made Mason tear up. his first born was growing up so quickly and this made him realise it. he waved back and blew her a kiss and the music started playing.

the class started preforming their ballet routine and your heart melted. seeing Margot dancing after practicing for months was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. she looked so comfortable as she danced.

you looked over at your mum who was recording the whole thing with the biggest smile on her face. you grabbed Masons hand which was on your leg and squeezed it tightly. you looked at him and he had a few tears rolling down his cheeks which you quickly wiped away and kissed his cheek.

“she looks so cute” he whispered, his eyes never leaving his little girl. “she’s doing amazing. she practiced so hard for this, it’s nice to see the final thing” he nodded as he squeezed your hand. you’d only ever seen Mason cry a handful of times since you’d been together.

nothing to do with the societal view of men crying makes them look weak, he just wasn’t a big crier. you’d only ever seen him cry when he’d watched the notebook with you, the birth or Margot, her first birthday and a couple other times.

the dance recital wasn’t very long, 30 minutes to be exact as there was two classes. after the recital had finished everyone was instructed to wait outside so they could collect their child and you stood waiting with Mason, hand in hand.

Margot was the first one out, running straight toward Mason who accepted her with open arms. “oh my girl you did so well” he picked her up and hugged her tightly. your daughter loved surprises and you knew this one would mean a lot to her.

he kissed her head and everyone awed at the two of them. “you said you weren’t coming” Margot said as she squeezed him tighter like he was going to disappear if she let go. “you really think i’d miss it? no way”

“you did so amazing poppet, you looked so beautiful” Debbie said making her look up from Masons neck. “thank you nanny” she was blushing. “do you think we should go out and celebrate? have some food together?” Mason said making Margot nod.

all of you decided on a food place and celebrated your little girls performance. Margot and Mason had sat next to each other and he had never felt love like this before. surrounded by the people he loved celebrating his daughter.

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Engagement Edition

SERIES MASTERLIST

the caption is so long so sorry

ps i made the likes and comment numbers all of z’s jersey numbers/numbers associated with him :)

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, and 11,469 others

yourusername “does the sun promise to shine? no, but it will, even behind the darkest clouds it will. and no promise will make it shine longer or brighter, for that is its fate, to burn until it can burn no more. so, to love you is not my promise, it is my fate, to burn for you until i can burn no more.” (atticus)

trevor zegras, you are my everything; and soon, you will be my husband. i remember our first (real) kiss like it happened yesterday; it was march 16th, 2018, after our first date. it was spring break, and we were all at home together. just a few days prior i learned that you had talked to quinn to get permission to ask me out. i said yes, and we snuck out in the middle of the night to not be disturbed or questioned by the entire house. there was a park about a ten minute walk from the house, and you had this giant backpack on with secret “date supplies.” you had my hide in the playground and made me swear to not look at what you were doing. you tied a sheet to two poles of the sitting area and set up a mini projector to play X2 specifically because i love the lines “it’s me” “prove it.” “you’re a dick” “okay.” after the movie, you told me to sit on the bench while you cleaned up to “switch up societies standards” and that’s how i knew i wanted to make this work. it’s how i knew i’d do anything to keep you. you grabbed my hand before we walked through the front door of the house to stop me, and that’s when you kissed me. i thought it was magic. turns out, everything you do is magic.

the only thing that comes close to that, is the day we first told each other “i love you.” it was july 4th, 2018, just shy of our four month anniversary. i had been building up to say it, post a very long phone call with quinn a few nights before (i later learned you had one, too) but i hadn’t found the right time. i wanted the right time to appear for me and not pressure myself into planning on when to say it. some of the boys’s younger cousins were around the house for the fourth of july party, and my not-so-secret favorite cousin at a strong willed four years old proclaimed that she wanted to guess who my boyfriend was— you or cole. the three of us were being very cuddly on the couch and it clearly confused the poor child, but because we’re us, we ran with it. she started out strong with wanted me to kiss both of you. i was unsure, but the two of you conspired behind my back and decided that both of you kissing me was completely acceptable! while i was trying to figure out how to politely tell her that i will not be kissing one of my boyfriend’s best friends, i was grabbed from behind, spun, dipped, and kissed. i was shocked, to say the least, and my eyes practically bulged out of my head when i opened my eyes and saw it was cole who just put on a show for her! she was very giddy at this, and it had already been done, so i smiled and asked, “how are you planning to top that, zegras?” for those wondering, the room was very confused. my cousin quickly told everyone that she was guessing who was my boyfriend, and suddenly everyone wanted to watch the show. you grabbed my hand, kissed it, and said, “if i was your boyfriend, i’d know you don’t like to put on a show. so i’d cup your face, and pull you in slow.” i smiled into the kiss and this made her even more giddy. however, she was not satisfied with this, and stepped it up a notch by telling us that her next task was for us to tell each other i love you. i was stunned to silence. i’d been waiting for my moment to arise and here it was. but i didn’t want my first time saying it to you to be in front of everybody. you, on the other hand, so it loud and proud. my head snapped from you to quinn, who was trying to hide a smile behind his hand. i asked you if you were saying that for me or for the kid. you told me you were saying it to me, and told me “i love you” again. i smiled so wide it hurt as i took your hand and ran to the garage. the second the door closed i grabbed you to kiss you again. i looked into your eyes, your terrified eyes, and said “i love you.” cheers were heard behind the door, because our friends are the nosiest people i’ve ever met.

i say “i love you, always,” and you say “i love you, forever,” because in taylor’s song “forever and always” she sings “you didn’t mean it, baby.” and when we say it, we do mean it, so we switched it around. soon, we’ll be legally obligated to love each other always and forever! i pinky promise to be a good wife, and i can’t wait to see how hot you look in a non game day suit. i can’t wait to sit and pick color schemes, a band, force everyone to give speeches, and buy new shoes! most of all, i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you, always, z❤️

tagged trevorzegras

view all 5,313 comments

trevorzegras i’m in the playoffs with you now, my love❤️ can’t wait to win the stanley cup! i love you, forever, y/n/n

yourusername god i’m so in love with you

trevorzegras i fall more in love with you every day

yourusuername if we aren’t careful we’ll take up all the love in the universe

trevorzegras i hope we do. love belongs to us❤️

_quinnhughes seeing you two progress over the years has truly been amazing. i’m beyond happy for you two, and i’d give my blessing again and again. i can’t wait to walk you down the aisle! i love you, sissy, and congratulations❤️

yourusername i can’t imagine anyone else better for the job❤️ i love you so much, quintin!

trevorzegras thank you for everything, hughesy!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras as long as you keep her happy, i’ll be here for whatever you two need

jackhughes that applies to all of us

lhughes_06 it does

trevorzegras you saps <3

user9 i’m sobbing my eyes out! congratulations future mr. and mrs. zegras!

anaheimducks congratulations! the ducks family is beyond happy for the two of you!

jamie.drysdale congratulations, my favorite unhinged couple! guess it’s time we take our rings off, eh?

yourusername mine’s already off <3

jamie.drysdale mine came off the second after the final buzzer of the last game <3

yourusername I WAS WONDERING ABOUT THAT

jamie.drysdale well i couldn’t have our ring on on the day my best friend was going to propose, now could i?

trevorzegras you’re a real one, jimbo

user46 MY PARENTS ARE ENGAGED😭

colecaufield the day z facetimed me to help him pick your ring, i was useless and told him to call quinn. but i will NOT be a useless groomsman 🫡

yourusername actually…

colecaufield ACTUALLY?!?!

trevorzegras we couldn’t decide who gets you

yourusername soooo will you officiate us?

colecaufield i would be incredibly honored!

yourusername don’t mention the kissing

trevorzegras @/yourusername everybody was there it’s a little late for that

jackhughes very late

_quinnhughes very, very late

user11 z truly went all out with this proposal and i’m obsessed with it! congratulations!

jackhughes i pressured z into asking you out, but this was all him. i’m beyond happy for the two of you! welcome to the family, z! i love you, sissy❤️(and z)

yourusername i love you, too, jacky boy <3 thanks for threatening z with a fork if he didn’t ask me out post quinny’s permission!

jackhughes anytime!

trevorzegras welcome to the groomsman club! (love you, too)

user13 if i don’t get a love like this, i don’t want it. congratulations!

user22 remember when z called y/n his stanley cup? yeah, i’m crying more over this than i did over that

elblue6 welcome to the family @/trevorzegras! congratulations on your engagement! i love you both so much!

yourusername i love you, too, mom! thank you, for everything! i wouldn’t have met trevor when i did if you didn’t take me in❤️

trevorzegras thank you mama hughes! i love you, too!

edwards.73 so happy for you two! @/trevorzegras treat my mom right! she deserves only the best!

trevorzegras yes, sir

yourusername i love you, ethan! welcome to the bride’s club <3

edwards.73 @/yourusername i love you, too! i can’t wait!

lhughes_06 @/yourusername why does he get to be in the bride’s club and not me?!

yourusername @/lhughes_06 you’re actually the biggest debate yet and we have not placed you

lhughes_06 aww you two love me!

trevorzegras @/yourusername you can have him

user53 the caption? wrecked me. i’m sobbing.

lhughes_06 besides my parents, you two have always been the best couple i know and i’m so glad i grew up watching you guys fall in love! congratulations! love you both!

yourusername i’ll forever cherish you having “the talk” with z after you walked in on us making out <3 i love you, lukey moosey!

trevorzegras @/yourusername i hope you know all three of them and jamie had talks with me after i talked to quinn about proposing to you

yourusername @/trevorzegras you talked to quinn about proposing to me?🥹

_quinnhughes @/yourusername he asked my permission to ask you out and it turned out to be the best thing in his life. he wanted it again to “turn the best thing into the greatest thing”

yourusername i’ll cry right now

trevorzegras update: she’s under my shirt

lhughes_06 sounds about right

user01 y/n and z have the most secure relationship known to man. he had cole kiss her? he doesn’t get mad when she’s attached to quinn? she had rings with his best friend? they’re a fever dream

colemcward congratulations, mom! you’ll make a beautiful bride!

yourusername thank you, favorite child! you’re too sweet for this world ugh i love you!

colemcward i love you, too!

_eliaspettersson congratulations! if you’re happy, i’m happy

yourusername i’m beyond happy❤️

trevorzegras thank you!

user19 i didn’t know that was why you two say always and forever! love my favorite swiftie couple!

_alexturcotte congratulations you two! as someone who was cheering on the other side of the door after you said i love you, getting that facetime of you showing me the ring definitely beats that. i love you two so much!

yourusername i love you, too, turc! sorry you’re in the groomsman club <3

trevorzegras @/yourusername rude

_alexturcotte @/trevorzegras she’s the bride! she does nothing wrong, ever

_quinnhughes agreed

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras i’m giving you my wife! apologize!

trevorzegras you’re all right. i apologize.

yourusername @/trevorzegras i love you, always :)

trevorzegras @/yourusername i love you, forever

tterry19 so happy for the two of you!

yourusername thank you, dad! i love you loads!

tterry19 love you, too!

trevorzegras thank you! love you, too, t!

user65 i’m so obsessed with this relationship

dylanduke25 you two have always been my favorite couple! congratulations! i love you (can i say it?)!

yourusername yes

dylanduke25 I LOVE YOU, SISSY❤️❤️❤️

yourusername i love you, too, duker😂

trevorzegras thanks, man!

trevorzegras with all the love in your comment section, i feel the need to say i love you more than anything else in the world. the plan was always to propose to you at the end of the season, and the world decided that was sooner rather than later. turns out, that was a really great thing❤️ i already love you forever, and soon i get to love you legally!

yourusername you’ll be my favorite tax deduction!

trevorzegras now THAT’S the highest honor, my love

_quinnhughes, _alexturcotte, dylanduke25, _eliaspettersson, lhughes_06, and others added this to their story

[lethalchiralium]

Lover | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: TAYLOR SWIFT 🫶 i’m more of a speak now girlie but FUCK MAN. LOVER GOT ME IN A CHOKEHOLD. (this is also an apology to @peachesofteal and @as-is-above-so-below to them being subjected to my antics and foreshadowing ☺️) did i mention this is the last part before i rip everything you know apart?

warnings: mentions of babies (of course), mentions of kids, child loss

summary: Christmas Eve is over. With enough paper cuts to last a lifetime, you just want Simon to know how much you love him with a song.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT

The dim light from the Christmas lights that lined your living room and Christmas tree lit up the room like warm firelight, you had finally finished wrapping the last present in blue and green spotted wrapping paper. It was getting late, Simon had already taken a bite out of the cookies Winnie was so excited to leave out for Santa, plus drank the entire glass of milk.

Your baby brother was asleep in the front room next to the stairs, the 141 settled and asleep in the guest room. Mellie had gone down with a belly full of formula and a face covered in kisses from her father, Winnie protested only for twenty minutes until your little brother convinced her that Santa wouldn’t come if she was awake. Simon kissed her face ten times before she finally got sick of him, stumbling over to Gaz for protection. Always the soft one, Gaz bundled her up in his arms with the blanket he had on him, holding her until she fell asleep on his chest. He had disappeared by 8pm to tuck her into bed, returning to sit on the couch to listen to one of your baby brother’s awful high school stories about setting a trash can on fire.

“Tommy, I’ll tell Mom.” You had remarked to your baby brother, he glared at you before sticking his tongue out and declaring that everyone was lame, and that he was going to bed. Soap and Gaz followed suit, saying that they were tired from playing all day and that they would see everyone in the morning. They went quietly into the guest room, Tommy complained from the front room that they were too loud. To which you closed the door between the living room and front room, grumbling about how dramatic he was.

Last to leave was Price. He sat with you and Simon as you forced your husband to help you wrap presents, Price was a little more helpful than Simon. Both him and you would wrap presents, you would wrap them in ribbons, then hand them to Simon so he could write down who it goes to. Price mumbled stories about having to wrap presents with his mum when he was younger, all for his cousins and his baby sister - who you learned died when she was fairly young. You couldn’t imagine how he could’ve felt when it happened, losing either Tommy or Dave would make you lose your mind; you couldn’t even think about how it effected his mum. He quickly glossed over it anyway, asking where the rest of the presents that he and the boys had brought went. Simon answered that they were in his office, under lock and key. He volunteered himself to go and get all of the already wrapped presents, leaving you two alone for a while until he brought them all down.

Price went to bed a little past midnight, you were starting to wrap the 141 presents by the time he did - he almost protested, saying he could still help but you were very stern on him going to bed. Your husband didn’t whisper a word of complaint as he hunched over, meticulously writing names and figuring out bows since his one chance to wrap something had failed miserably. It was fine though, you two sat in comfortable silence until he placed one of the last gifts under the Christmas tree. That was when he looked at the tree, his unmasked face illuminated in a warm glow.

There were moments where you were honestly stunned by his beauty. By all means, he was not the most beautiful man on Earth, but he was just perfect to you. The crooked nose from one too many breaks, the faded white lines across his face, the way his brown eyes gazed in childish wonder at the tree you had decorated with your baby brother. His hair was a little longer than usual, his normally shaved face was covered in stubble that your daughter liked to pull. You pressed your lips together, still memorizing his pink lips and the way one eyebrow was more arched than the other when he turned to look at you.

“Somethin’ the matter?”

You gazed back to the present in between your hands, a second-hand Nintendo DS with a couple cartridges of Nintendogs sat in the wrapped box. Soap was written in big letters - messy and all different sized, but that was Simon. He spent the most time on writing his children’s and his brother-in-law’s names, his brothers in arms wouldn’t mind. You thumbed over the little bow on it, making sure it was secure before placing it on the side of the large pile of presents. “Let’s keep the lights up for a while.”

Simon huffed through his nose. “Whatever you want, love.” He began to stretch his arms above his head, you could hear something pop and you quietly laughed. He eyed you before he reached a hand out for yours, you let him. He tugged you a little, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, a smile appeared on your face as he said, “Good work, Mama.” His hand settled on your cheek, eyes full of sleepiness yet the myriad of love in them made your heart warm even more.

“Can I share something with you?” You asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re not pregnant again, right?”

You rolled your eyes, moving away from him to stand. You held your hand out for him, he took it as he moved to his feet. You shuffled away to the mantle of the fireplace, the fire in it slowly dying away to ash as the night became tiring. Your phone in your hand, you snatched the pair of wired earbuds you were using earlier while cleaning and moved back to your husband. You stood in front of him, pressing an earbud into his ear and then the other into yours. His eyebrows furrowed, his hands still at his side. You ran through your music library, picking out the song that seemed to remind you of him. Lover.

The guitar and drums began to softly play, you slipped your phone into his pocket.

Your arms hooked around his neck as his hands settled on the top of your hips, your fingers brushed through the wisps of curls at the base of his skull.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January.

And this is our place, we make the rules.

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear,

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

“What are we listening to?”

“Taylor Swift.” You smiled up at him. His nose scrunched.

“I don’t like Taylor Swift.”

You gently patted his chest with one hand and keeping it over his heart. “You just need to listen to her words then, ‘cause she says it better than I can.”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

You gently rubbed his chest, the hand still behind his neck came down to his chest too - you could feel him breathe underneath your paper cut fingertips.

And ah, take me out, and take me home.

You're my, my, my, my,

Lover.

If there was a way you could’ve captured the moment his eyes softened, you would’ve. His brown eyes were always warm just for you, just for your girls, but it was as if they were made of honey in this moment - glittering in the firelight. His fingers dug just a little into your skin, barely noticeable.

We could let our friends crash in the living room,

This is our place, we make the call.

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you,

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all.

“You’re gonna be the death of me with that look, sweetheart.”

You giggled just a little. “It’s the only look I got.”

One hand curled around to your back, pulling you closer to him and forced your arms to go back around his neck. “You want all my summers, then? Is that what you’re saying?”

You shook your head just a little, letting your hips sway to the melody - moving your feet back and forth a little. And to your surprise, he followed suit. Using the hand in the curve of your spine, he kept you close to him and his old t-shirt and gingerbread man pajama pants Winnie insisted he wear. He looked beautiful in them anyway, though he’d stiffly disagree. “I do. I want every single season with you, my Simon whatever-your-middle-name-is Riley.”

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand,

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.

Your eyes couldn’t leave your husband’s if you even tried, it was easy to watch just how much love he had for you would spill through his gaze. The way his eyes lit up at that lyric, and how he watched your lips as you whispered the next lyrics to him,

“My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue,

All's well that ends well to end up with you.

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover.

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me,

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover.”

“Oliver.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, the song still singing in your ear. “What?”

“My middle name.”

Your husband wasn’t always ready to share details with you, the man was a half-chiseled sculpture when it came to the knowledge you knew about him. You were slowly chipping away his strong defence, and this was a huge step.

“Simon Oliver Riley.” The extra word in the middle of the name you loved so much meant more than he knew, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Placing your head on his chest, tuning back into Taylor Swift’s soothing voice, hands moving to hold onto his back. “My Simon.”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home,

You're my, my, my, my,

Oh, you're my, my, my, my,

Darling, you're my, my, my, my,

Lover.

taglist (ignore that tagging hates me): @sigynxlokiwifelover @lumpypoll @multitargaryen @chloeforde @blueoorchid @vir-tual @lolis-pikt @theverycelestialgemini @simpingforleoandnico @prodyng @royalty-purple @projectdreamwalker @tiredweeb7

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[torturedblue]

It’s the middle of the week, have some dancing turtles

Spoilers below as I gush about my Mutant Mayhem Monday experience 🤗 please feel free to gush with me I wanna hear other people’s thoughts too!

First off… When Seth wanted to put the teenager in TMNT he meant it. Like, all the versions act like teenagers, but like Nickelodeon PG stereotypical teens. MM turtles were the realest PG-13 outta pocket 21st century teenagers I’ve ever seen and I love that shit because it’s the first time I actually felt like I was around the kids in middle school and high school again with the way they talk. Kinda appreciate Superfly cussing too? Like idk it’s Ice Cube and this villain goes hard tryna kill some teenage turtles he formally saw as his lil cousins, let the grown mutant cuss

Also uh, was not expecting to be sad so early in the movie? Like I could tell from the trailers it was gon be an emotional rollercoaster but shit like ten minutes in and these turtles are fuckin depressed. And to see it really hit me because in every other version (except for Bayverse) the turtles literally never let not being part of the human world get to them. In the shows especially they’re so well adjusted and never bothered by sticking to the shadows. Then there’s Rise where they pretty much go out whenever they want and indulge in most of the human world stuff they want to. For these guys to be so stunted and desperate to have more freedom was so heart wrenching. Especially when Splinter grounds them for a whole month and the reality sinks in of how much they know the life they want isn’t an option for them

Wasn’t expecting any kind of ship or romance but that crush Leo has on April hit me like truck because…… holy crap the Leo-April pair has never been a thing? On top of that this is only the second on screen black April we’ve seen and I’ve been a Leo kinnie across the board since day one so to see this combo of my favorite character liking a black girl is making me lose my mind 🥲 and like it got me thinking of several of my favorite shows and the single characters I kin in those and if they’ve ever had black love interests and it’s just still not a common normalized thing honestly.

I’m sure a lot of people aren’t excited for the prospect of ships coming back (especially after 2012 scarred us) but as a Leo lover and black girl it got me so excited to see something like this. I’m just hopeful and optimistic they won’t mess it up like a lot of shows do. The “this is just as friends line” already makes me a little worried bc that trope never has a good history but I have faith they’ll handle things tastefully and not make it toxic or messy

MURDER THE SHREKS!

“I assume you’d wanna be on camera. ‘Cause you have, like a very camera ready look…” OKAY SMOOOOOTH LEONARDOOOOOO 👏🏽

Could not stop laughing while he was shooting his shot my face was literally donnie’s restraining myself from bursting out laughing

Just a couple of my favorite questions that April wrote down for them:

“Do you carry salmonella?” Look I still don’t know wtf salmonella is but it’s the second time a TMNT iteration has joked about it so I’m starting to think it has something specifically to do with turtles 👀

“Have you caught covid?” Oml covid exists in this world

“Are you the source of covid?” OUT OF LINE 💀

“How many people has the red bandana turtle stabbed? Does he need therapy?” Yes.

“Does sunlight cause you to burst into flames?” They’re- they’re not vampires? 😂

Leon Ardo deserves the world and whatever he wants in it give him everything 😭

I will never understand what made Donnie laugh so hard at the name Nardo other than it being because it’s his sibling and that it bothers Leo lmao

All imma say about the puke scene is that I’m glad I heard an “out of context” spoiler about it bc I knew exactly when to look away and I’m glad I did bc the scene lasted for so long??? 😀❓But hey at least I had Unwritten to listen too while I was sparing my eyes 😂

The sequence of them going around and shaking down those gangs and Superfly’s connections. BAD. ASS. And each of them got their own moments to shine? Loved it. Like they each even got to take point and have their moments where they got to kick in the door lol. And the fight scenes were just, muah. Chef’s kiss, they all looked amazing taking grown ass adults down together

Okay Splinter definitely gets the best dad award for putting together that little surprise party, with all the celebrity Chris’s and pretending to wait on them 🥺 so pure. It did make me sad the guys immediately left and you can just see such a sad dejected look on Splinter’s face, knowing he can’t provide what his kids really want or make them happy enough without it 🥲 At the very least they say thanks and that they appreciate but I would’ve at least stayed for a lil bit and gone along with it, Splinter just looked so excited about it and it was so sweet 😭

And he doesn’t even get upset though he knows they’re hiding something, he just says he’ll help them if they’ve gotten into trouble, which is something I’m sure almost every kid has wanted instead of having the kind of relationship where they’re more scared of telling their parents they messed up instead of handling it on their own

I love how musical Superfly’s family is 😂 Ray Filet just starts sing-introducing his name and Mondo and the other couple mutants when they drive with in the car trying to find music they could all sing to together 🥹 not to mention the musical references Superfly makes later that I’ll get to. “Kinda don’t wanna murder everyone on Earth, I just kinda wanna sing” Me too bruh.

Raph immediately going “goochi goochi goo” and playing peekaboo with Genghis frog is so underrated that boy has such a soft side he’s not even that afraid of showing at times, and maybe it’s continuing the trope of Raph having a soft spot for pets/animals? Who knows 😌

Yo I was kinda shook when that government guy knocked Leo out and he just fell unconscious on the ground 😶 Like we’re used to seeing the authorities be brutal especially in movies like this but that’s a whole teenager? You just assaulted a minor? 🙂 Crazy

Also I know it’s sad they got captured and drained painfully but Mikey in that scene was hilarious 😂 like even the way he was dramatically crying and Leo was just started to cry with him like “iM sO sOrRy mIkEeEeEy! 😭” gold. When one of his children is hurting Leo hurts too. One of my favorite moments 🤣

They literally started singing BTS while being tortured they’re so unserious but like in a serious way to them and I love it. Also the fact that they did it just to make Donnie feel better? So pure. Like Raph of all turtles offered to sing while being drained of blood (bc I refuse to use the m word 💀)

The way Splinter snuck in and soloed literal government soldiers single handedly? Badass. Never loved seeing a Splinter save his sons so much 🥹

“But it’s the only way we’ll be accepted.”

“No! We accept you!”

“You can come live with us! We accept you!”

“WE VIBE!”

Oml they’re so puuuuure 😭 I really thought this was gonna be a moment where the guys invite them all to come live with them and Splinter was gonna be like ‘aha 😬 whoa slow down there’ but damn nah he was just as enthusiastic as them inviting all those mutants to come live in their home forever “The more the merrier!” Like ugh he just loves finding family like Baxter Stockman and we see where the guys got their loving nature from 🥹

The amount of his soul Mikey put into that BROSEEEPH was so real like I’ve never heard the name broseph be said in any other way, I’m so glad they put that moment in there

“New York, New York!” “I’m the king of New York!”

Oml superfly’s a Broadway baby 🤗 he’s a big bad villain marching through time square and talking about King Kong but he’s fill gonna nerd out and make his musical theatre references 😂

“For once in your life you didn’t sound lame. You actually started to sound like a leader”

“That was really heartfelt Raph”

I love the Leo Raph dynamic in this movie. Like they don’t always agree or understand each other but they will show love towards one another and show mutual appreciation

Something about any of the turtles shells cracking always gets to me for some reason like those are some serious permanent injuries so I want to see if they do anything special with that in the sequel or show maybe 🤔 And I couldn’t tell if all of theirs cracked or just one, and if so which turtle it was. I think Leo or Raph. I feel like it was Leo but Raph’s are also starting to have a trend of getting cracks in their shells so 🤷🏽‍♀️

Also I do not want to judge what other people like to wear but why are Raph and Donnie the only normal dressed ones 😭 like Mikey looks like he’s going on vacation and Leo looks like he’s going to clock in at Best Buy 😂 tell me it’s because they have limited resources for clothes lmao. HE’S LITERALLY WEARING A LANYARD

Them taking off the masks was crazy honestly… like them deciding not to wear them made my brain pause until I realize they’re kids going to school now and not being ninjas all the time… they don’t need them anymore. I’m just so pleased with the fact that this movie was willing to do what all other iterations weren’t. I see why they’re getting a sequel and show already, these guys and the plot development deserve so much more exploration

Maybe I missed something in the beginning but I’m wondering where Stockman went. Like is he still in custody? Did he die? Because not seeing him again that’s what I assumed but we only saw him get arrested or whatever, so if anything I don’t get why Superfly and the others wouldn’t try to break him out 🤔 I was surprised they didn’t make him a villain though, but I’m pretty happy about him getting to be a more optimistic kind character tho

SHREDDER HAD ME SHOOK LIKE THE ARMOR ALREADY LOOKED SO COOL AND I WAS NOT EXPECTING THEM TO GET THE BIG BAD INVOLVED AHHHH I’M SO READY TO SEE THEM REACT TO THIS ANGRY GIANT TIN CAN

Although I do wonder if Shredder’s gonna have some personal gripe with them since they have a different backstory he doesn’t seem to be a part of. And shit now that they’re public and in school it’s gonna be so much easier for him to go after them 😅 pluses and minuses…

The soundtrack: golden. Cultured. Nothing but range. Goes from a 90’s rap song to Natasha Bedingfield’s soulful 2000’s song. Most movies only ever have all pop mainstream songs or only rap songs because they think they can’t mix but MM does it effortlessly. The turtles are so versatile not just with music genres but they make old and new references ‘cause they’re well rounded kings 💪🏽 Between rizz, Adele, broski, Hey Arnold, K-Pop, Ferris Bueller, etc… I mean Donnie’s literally doing the sprinkler and the funky chicken in that gif up top 😂 they’re born in 2008 I doubt any kids today know about those dances anymore

Clearly I have all the thoughts and feelings about these boys and the movie, but I think this is probably my favorite TMNT movie? I’ve loved all of them but I think this one definitely brings me the most comfort fr

[daytaker]

Can I request a fic where MC is sort of a pathological liar? and they lie about stuff that ultimately doesn't matter, but they can't help it? Also, if it could be Mammon x mc centric that would be amazing, but it doesn't have to be. I love your writing!! bye bye

POV: You are cldhart08. You forgot you sent this to me. Two full months later, you get a notification that daytaker replied to your ask.

Pants on Fire

Ships: (Lowkey) Mammon/Reader, Beel & Reader Word Count: ~1.1k CW: lying (general), lying about medical conditions, bullying Mammon

So you're a bit of a liar.

"I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck. I wasn't breathing or anything, and my dad actually fainted.

...Or a lot of a liar.

"Did you know my second cousin actually dated Selena Gomez for awhile?"

One might even go so far as to call your lying 'pathological'.

"I actually have a severe tree nut allergy, so I'll pass on that. Thanks though."

There was never any logic to it. The lies just came out. You never felt guilty about it, because no one got hurt. So there wasn't really anything to worry about, right?

Wrong.

You sit on the floor outside of Mammon's room, hugging your knees, when a big, hulking form slumps down the wall onto the floor beside you.

"Oh... Hey, Beel," you say. You're not even trying to pretend as if nothing's wrong.

"Hello." He looks at Mammon's door, then at you. "Did you knock?"

You sigh, then demonstrate to Beel what happens when you knock on Mammon's door. A muffled voice comes from inside.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," you reply.

"I already told you! If you're a scummy, lyin' human, you can go eat nuts for all I care! I'm never talkin' to you again so you might as well stop wastin' both our times!"

"He's talking to you now," Beel points out, and it's hard to argue with his logic.

"Who the hell was that? Beel? Fine, then I'll only talk to you to tell you to fluff off, how's that?"

You rub your eyes tiredly and Beel leans in a little, speaking lower so Mammon can't hear him. "If you just leave, he'll come looking for you in about ten or twenty minutes."

"If I leave, he's going to think I'm not sorry." Hugging your knees, you shake your head. "I am sorry."

"Is this about the thing at the student council meeting and the nuts?"

You shudder at the memory.

----

You hadn't even thought about it at the time.

You never particularly liked nuts. Almonds, cashews, walnuts, chestnuts... not even peanuts outside their butter form. So when Mammon asked you why you declined to try a rather nut-heavy dish prepared by Barbatos himself, you simply told him you were allergic. "If I even get a whiff of them, my body goes into anaphylactic shock."

"What the hell's that?"

"Basically, my immune system goes haywire, and if I don't get the right kind of shot in the first few minutes, I'm a goner."

At the time, Mammon had seemed impressed by how close you skated to death, risking your life by casually allowing tree nuts to continue existing around you. And you? You'd enjoyed the brief attention.

At the time.

-----

That was weeks ago, so it was far from your mind as you accepted some human world trail mix from Beel while you sat, bored out of your wits, through another student council meeting. You picked out most of the nuts, of course, but in the end, you swallowed the imperfectly sorted handful.

And Mammon lost it.

"THERE WERE NUTS IN THAT!"

Diavolo, who had been in the middle of speaking, stuttered to a halt as everyone looked over to Mammon, who was simultaneously cradling you and screaming obscenities at an utterly bewildered Beelzebub. In the moment, you'd sort of frozen up and said nothing. Mammon...

Mammon was crying.

He was crying and yelling ridiculous instructions to everyone in the room and getting extremely angry when the others didn't seem to see what the issue was.

"They're gonna go into analgesic shock and die if we don't do somethin' fast! Do none of you bird brains get that?!"

He begged you to tell him how to get that shot you needed, that... what was it, an Apple Pen?

...It was several minutes before you were able to get the truth out.

Force the truth out, more like. Telling that truth made you almost wish you really had gone into anaphylactic shock. That seemed like an easier way to go than looking Mammon in the eye, in front of all his brothers and Diavolo, and explain that you didn't actually have that allergy. That you'd lied.

And of course, of course, the onus fell on Mammon for believing it.

Satan and Asmo sighed at how someone so stupid could function. Levi posted on Devilgram about how you'd epically trolled Mammon. Lucifer scolded Mammon for his overreaction, and Belphie just glowered at Mammon for waking him up with all his shrieking.

And you, you sort of...said nothing.

-----

"Ah," Beel says, nodding. "You feel bad that you made him look stupid."

"No," you groaned, frustrated at your inability to articulate exactly what it was that felt so off. "It's... He really thought I was going to die. I scared him. And then everyone treated him like a gullible idiot. So...I guess I made him look stupid, but..."

Beel stares at you. His expression is blank, but in a soft sort of way. It's oddly comforting.

"He got made into a laughing stock because I told him a lie, and he reacted to it....the way someone would react if they thought someone they really cared about was in danger. I feel guilty for lying and worrying him, and I feel worse that I just let everyone tear into him like always, when all he did was try to take care of me."

The door you're leaning against swings open behind you and you fall flat on your back in Mammon's doorway. The demon stares down at you with a mixture of righteous contempt and a flustered embarrassment that was so painfully typical of Mammon.

"Yeah! And you should feel guilty! You're a real asshole, ya know that?"

You blink up at him and offer a weak smile. "...Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."

Mammon folds his arms. "You really think you can just come snivelin' up to me and beg for forgiveness, and I'll just hand it to ya?"

Beel looks between you and Mammon, watching the conversation unfold with the same mild interest he'd show while staring at a somewhat unimpressive exhibit at the zoo.

"...Well, today just so happens to be your lucky day," Mammon continues. "The Great Mammon, the big guy himself, has decided to forgive your tiny mortal soul for bein' a total jackass and liar. You're welcome. Don't expect it to happen again."

Still lying on your back, you grin at Mammon. "Thanks, Great Mammon."

The demon clears his throat and looks away. "Anyway. Our turn to make dinner tonight, so..." With that, he walked right past you and darted down the stairs.

Typical Mammon.