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amyispxnk · 28 days ago

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AWWWWWWWWWW I LOVE THEM SO MUCHHH

“I’d rather not know what you mean or think about that shit—anyways,” he said, and the sudden topic change made you smile, “I went to the jeweler downtown—” That was where you got your wedding bands, and Javi had his mother’s engagement ring altered. “—and after talking it out with them, I thought you’d like the bracelet. The idea was that as our family grows, it would, too, and we’d add our children’s birthstones as they come along.“I just wanted you to have something special for today; what do you think?”

I would've been shocked if she didn't sob at that cuz it's so fucking sweet omg. The way he wanted to add birthstones as the family grows too? Actually perfect

It wasn’t a surprise, it was two surprises, Cielito gasping “Oh my god,” when she saw, and Javier grinning—Daphne and Velma, their beloved bovine children, had flower crowns on their heads made of light and dark purple peonies, with a few white ones amongst the others—at eight months, the calves were barely half the size of a full grown cow and were tethered with long ropes from their halters to a small metal-fenced corral set up for that night; a bale of hay was in front of them and out of reach that had a hand-painted sign leaning against it that read, ‘Our parents got married!’ with the date beneath it, and a big bucket of vegetables nearby for people to feed them.

YAAAA MY FAVES DAPHNE AND VELMA

But it had happened. He found his person, the one, and now he had his own family.

It's so sweet how he didn't think he'd find love and now he's so in love and so happy after just a year I love this series sfm

He kissed her cheek. “The song reminds me of us,” he said, “because it’s true; it doesn’t matter what those people you share blood with think, or that we’re from different walks of life, and money doesn’t even fit into the fucking equation—the only thing that matters is our love; what we have means a whole lot more than anything that can be bought or social status, and they can all fuck right off with their opinions ‘cause they don’t mean shit. lo que importa es que te amo, y tú me amas, y eso es algo que durará incluso después de que este mundo ya no exista y el sol deje de brillar (All that matters is I love you, and you love me, and that is something that will last even after this world is no more, and the sun stops shining). Te amo más que a nada (I love you more than anything).”

Javi with the poetic speech to comfort his wife 😭😭😭😭

Learning to Live Part 33

summary: It’s the happiest day of his life—Javier is finally a married man, and he can't keep his hands off his new wife.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), two extremely horny newlyweds, Husband Javier Peña, mutual masturbation (m & f), hand job, dirty talk (you describe to each other how you want to fuck for the first time), praise kink, breeding kink, marriage kink? (it really turns you both on that you’re husband and wife), wedding ring kink (don’t look at me), Javier being so in love and unbelievably happy, banter, special appearances by their bovine children (it’s so cute), Chucho interrupting a heavy make-out sesh, anxiety, mention of dysfunctional family, a surprise POV we’ve never seen)

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

word count: 11.3k+

a/n: First, I’m sorry for how long this took. It’s been a very rough and busy few months, but I’m back to it! This is part one of (I’m hoping and praying) only two that will be about the wedding reception. I’m like 7k+ into the next one. Thank you for your patience and all of the comments on the last chapter. I loved reading everyone’s reactions! 🥹🥹🥹 Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing and always ensuring my Spanish makes sense!

songs mentioned in this chapter: “Amor Prohibido'' by Selena & “Tiburon” by Proyecto Uno

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

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When Steve told her Javier had a girlfriend, Connie asked him to repeat what he had said because she thought she’d misheard him. He’d told her again, a little slower, "Jav has a girlfriend."

Who knew four words could sound so foreign together?

She’d had to clarify, "Our Javi? Javier Peña? He has a girlfriend?"

Steve had looked amused. "Yes, honey. Javier Peña has a girlfriend—I'm glad I'm not the only one who can’t believe it."

"Like, a girlfriend, girlfriend, or just one of his lady friends he's seen more than once?" She’d known that in Colombia, he’d had favorites amongst the working girls he saw, not to mention Elisa.

"A girlfriend, girlfriend—he's dating whoever this woman is."

"Are you sure?” She’d had to ask. “Maybe you just misunderstood him…"

And though Connie Murphy loved her husband dearly, she sometimes needed to double-check things he said, so she'd waited for Steve to leave the room before she had called their friend herself to verify what she'd been told was true. To her utmost surprise, Javier had confirmed it—he had a girlfriend, and he was serious about dating her.

Once the shock had passed, she’d needed to know everything about this woman who’d caught his attention, and once again, she had been surprised by what her friend said and how much he wanted to share.

Javi was not a chatty guy. Sure, you could have a conversation with him, but he never gave more information than was asked or pertained to the discussion. Connie had known something was different with their friend when he had, without much prompting, started telling her at length about this girl he had met in a grocery store—it’d been clear he was completely smitten by how fondly he spoke of her, and it had made Connie grin like a fool that Javier Peña finally had his sights on settling down, something he’d more than earned after everything in South America.

When she’d gotten off the phone with him, she’d gone to Steve and ordered him, not asked, ordered him, to get the new couple to visit as soon as possible; she’d been dying to meet this person who had their friend head over heels, and her annoying husband’s response was to tell her to calm the fuck down so they didn’t spook the woman who’d only been dating their best friend for a little over a week—she hated that he’d been right, but after a month of them going steady, and things looking good, she’d gotten back on Steve’s ass about convincing them to visit.

It may be surprising, but Connie and her husband weren’t very skeptical about the new development in Javi’s life—they were well aware of what happened between him and that awful girl from his hometown he left at the altar and how wary it’d made him in terms of relationships, so they trusted his judgment, plus all he’d told them about his girlfriend was reassuring, and there weren’t any red flags, they were all bright green; this woman made him happy and seemed like a good person, that last bit was proven when they finally met her. They more than approved of the marriage, and as soon as they were given a date for the wedding, they were making plans to attend because they weren’t going to miss the happiest day of their best friend’s life for the world—and Olivia was over the moon about being the flower girl and getting a new dress.

Connie would be lying if she said she didn’t cry during their ceremony. When they all still lived in Colombia, Javier’s parents had contacted her regularly to check up on him. She’d gotten to hear firsthand how much of a romantic Chucho was from his wife, and after Antonia passed away, his love for her was just as strong, if not stronger, with the way he’d reminisce and speak of her, almost as if she wasn’t gone. Even though it made sense that Javi inherited his father's romanticism, it was downright mind-boggling to hear him say such beautiful and touching things that could've come straight from a sappy chick-flick; it also had to be the most she’d ever heard him speak in one go.

It was sweet to see Javier so in love, and she was happy he was marrying someone who felt just as strongly about him—he definitely deserved this happiness he had found, and it was about damn time he got himself a family. The man was destined to be a dad; he was terrific with her kids, so good, in fact, it made Steve realize he needed to step up as a father. She’d always be thankful to Javi for that. Before her husband got more involved, it was Connie doing just about everything for Olivia, and it was exhausting and honestly put her off wanting any more children, but once Steve changed his act and started pulling his weight, she was ready for their family to grow.

The Murphys were excited to see Javier doing so well and marrying such a wonderful woman.

They were out on Chucho’s land at a hill with a giant oak tree sitting atop it, surrounded by grassy fields and the Rio Grande river in the distance, you could see if you stood under the tree. The sun had set, and the couple was officially married; Javi’s dad had them sign their marriage license, along with Steve and the bride’s best friend, putting their names down as witnesses, the newlyweds taking off back to the house for the big party that’d be happening with the new wife climbing into the driver’s seat of her new husband’s truck.

Steve and Connie had just packed their kids into the SUV they rented and were getting into their seats up front. Her husband turned the key in the ignition to start it. His seatbelt clicked into place right after hers, and he looked over at her with his hand on the wheel and a smirk on his face—he was about to say something that’d get a reaction from her.

Her eyebrow rose. “What is it?” she asked.

He adjusted in his seat, glancing back at the children, then meeting her eyes again, and whispered for only her to hear. “Five bucks says our newly married friends find a way to ‘fold laundry’ on their way back to the house.” That was their codeword for sex, so their kids didn’t know what they were talking about.

“Steven,” she loudly gasped, and he chuckled.

“Come on, baby.” He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together on her dress-covered thigh. “Five bucks.”

“How would they…?” She was trying to figure out the logistics in her head on how they could possibly fuck while driving, especially with Javi’s wife driving. “Wait, are we talking them making it to home base (penetrative sex)? Or third base (touching below the waist)?”

“I’m talking that at least one of them, by any means necessary, does a home run trot (orgasms) before they get to the party.”

“Oh, that’s a losing bet.”

He pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“What, because I don’t wanna lose five bucks? They can’t make it to home base while driving, but I have no doubt one of them will finish from third—probably her, and good for her—let’s be real, Steve, we know them, and there’s no way they’re making it to that fancy as heck hotel room Javi rented to score the first run on opening day (consummate their marriage), either.”

Steve seemed to be thinking over what she said. “When I talked to him the other day, Javi was determined to do things right by her, and with how he held out until their third date, I think there is a chance they’d wait.”

“Enough of a chance you’d wanna wager on it?” She smiled sweetly at him.

“Heck no.”

“When did tío (uncle) start playing baseball?” Olivia asked.

Her dad turned his head to look at her in the back middle seat. “Oh, your tío has been playing baseball on and off since he was a teenager, sweetie. He doesn’t like to talk about it ‘cause he’s not very good at it.”

“Steve,” Connie hissed, playfully slapping his arm, and he smiled. “What your Dad means,” Connie said, turning in her seat to meet her daughter’s eyes, “is your tío is embarrassed that he plays baseball, so don’t ask him about it.”

“Why is he embarrassed?”

“Uh.” There really wasn’t a better answer. “‘Cause, like your Daddy said, your tío isn’t very good at it.”

Steve had a shit-eating grin. “So, don’t mention it to him, baby girl,” he said.

“I won’t.”

The parents faced forward, and Steve let go of her hand to put the vehicle in drive.

“I think I’m pretty good at baseball,” he whispered. “Been hitting a lot of home runs lately.” He glanced over at her and winked.

Her eyes rolled, Connie smiling. “Don’t be smug about it, Babe Ruth.”

“Do you even know what team Babe Ruth played for?”

“Um, the Yankees, maybe? Do you know?”

“I think you’re right?” he answered. “But you know I don’t like baseball and hated playing Little League as a kid.”

Nothing felt more right than the weight of the gold band on his finger, and Javier couldn't help but glance at it every once in a while to make sure it was really there and he wasn't dreaming; that was what today felt like, a dream, a dream come true, and the evidence that it'd actually happened was right there on his hand for him and everyone else to see.

After the kiss, there were congratulations and pictures taken, and as everyone started walking down the hill to the parked vehicles, Chucho stopped Javier and his wife—his wife—the older man silently handed him a pocket knife, and Javier didn't need any further instruction. He grabbed Cielito's hand and led her around the tree to where he knew his parents’ initials were carved, and added his and his new wife's nearby but used the letter 'P' for her last name and included the date beneath it.

All he wanted was to be alone with his bride, but on their way to his truck, his father stopped them again to sign the paperwork that'd make their marriage legal, the document sitting on the hood of Chucho's pickup—Cielito went first, writing in her pretty, flowy cursive her old name, then passed him the pen, Javier quickly scribbling down a messy version of his signature.

"Anything else?" he impatiently asked his dad, handing him back the ballpoint pen.

Chucho was smiling. "Nothing from you two, Mijo." He clapped Javier on the shoulder. "Get going—I just need to have the witnesses sign, and we'll see you back at the house."

"Thanks, Pop." He took Cielito's hand, hurriedly pulling her behind him.

“Thank you, Pop!” his wife giggled as she followed him. Her tone was amused when she said to Javier, “Someone’s impatient.”

He quickly glanced back at her over his shoulder. "Yeah, I am,” he said, looking forward again.

They were almost to his vehicle, and she stopped walking, which had Javier stopping, too.

He turned in place to meet her eyes, his eyebrows creasing. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She let go of his hand to hold open her palm. "Keys—you're not driving."

He frowned. "I'm fine."

"I don't care if you feel fine. You downed a few shots of whiskey, and I'm not letting you drive."

The pressure of not fucking up during the ceremony had gotten to him before it even started and caused a minor panic attack that his wife helped him get through with a flask of whiskey—it was true he downed two or three shots and was a little buzzed; however, he was nowhere near drunk, and definitely not close to having a blood alcohol level that’d get him in trouble with the law if he drove.

But since his wife didn’t want him to drive, he wouldn’t because he’d do anything she said.

He sighed, getting his keyring out of his tuxedo pants pocket and dropping it into her waiting hand.

“Please, watch out for holes,” he said, “and don’t drive too fast.”

She stepped close to him, smiling. "I know your truck is your baby." She lightly patted his cheek, and he grabbed her hand, his eyes staying on hers as he turned his head to kiss the center of it.

"That I only trust you to drive.”

In college, he had an old car that got decent gas mileage, so he didn’t break the bank when he visited home—it was the same vehicle he fled from Laredo in, on the day of his first wedding. It got him through the DEA academy, and when he received his first assignment, he sold it because he was being sent to Guadalajara, Mexico, and had no need for it. Getting rid of that car was Javier letting go of the last remnant of his previous life, and boarding the plane to Mexico with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffle bag was the beginning of a new one.

The vehicles he drove while working with the DEA were all owned by the United States government; he didn’t need to buy one for himself. When he finally quit his job, he didn’t have very many earthly possessions and showed up at his father’s with his overnight bag, his duffle bag, and all of his suits, the two boxes containing the rest of his shit arriving a couple of days after him. He borrowed the spare pickup used for work around the ranch if he needed to drive anywhere. Once Javier returned to Laredo for good after a year in Miami with the Murphys, that was when he pulled the trigger and bought himself a truck—a nice truck that was only a couple of years old and practically new with how little miles were on it.

His ‘95 Ford F-250 SuperCab was a deep maroon and was a huge step up from the old pickup he had in high school and the shitty car he sold when the DEA sent him to another country.

She snorted. "Javier, this is literally the first time you're letting me drive it."

"I would’ve let you drive it sooner if you’d asked—I trust you, and now you’re my wife, so it belongs to you, too.”

Her face lit up. "Wait," she said, "say I’m your wife again."

"You're my wife."

"Damn straight, I am your wife now, and you're my husband! Oh my god, we're married!"

His smile was big as he chuckled and stepped into her space, his large hands cradling her cheeks as he kissed her.

He loved that she was just as excited as him over their new titles. They broke apart, and his eyes took in how beautiful she looked, and the need to be alone with her slammed into him again.

"Let's go," he said, taking her free hand and leading her to the driver’s side of his pickup. He let go to open the door for her and offered a palm, which she gladly accepted, to help her get up into the cab. He ensured she was inside and closed the door, walking around to the passenger seat to join her.

He took off his tuxedo jacket and set it on the backseat—once inside the cab of the truck, with the doors closed, he scooted over to the middle of the bench seat while she made adjustments in order to drive comfortably; her dress was rucked up her thighs to better move her legs, and his were too long, having to rest his feet on the passenger floorboards.

He gravitated toward her, getting pulled into her orbit, Javier unable to keep from cuddling up close to her after their seatbelts were buckled. His upper body twisted her way, nosing against her skin and peppering kisses along her jaw as she brought the engine to life with a turn of the key.

It was twilight outside, the sun setting, leaving traces of itself behind with the horizon colored a soft orange, the sky darkening to a deep blue that could rival the color of the ocean.

He couldn’t believe this beautiful woman was his wife—this beautiful woman who smelled fucking incredible and had him half-hard in his pants at the fact he was hers, and she was his; Jesus Christ, he had never wanted her more than he did at this moment, feeling arousal burning hot in his belly. He had to touch her, his right hand going across his body to rub his fingers along the inside of her knee, his lips pressing to the column of her throat, luxuriating in her perfume and the softness of her skin.

“You’re gonna be stuck to me like an octopus all night, aren’t you?” she asked amusedly as she switched on the headlights and put the truck into drive, getting them on their way.

He slid the tip of his nose up the side of her neck to her ear, pressing his lips to it as he whispered, “Yes, I’m gonna be all over you, my wife, my smart, amazing, sexy wife, who I’m dying to be inside of—when we get to Pop’s, let’s have some fun in my room before we go to the party; I wanna make you feel good.”

She giggled. “There’s not enough time before your dad meets us there.” She rubbed his thigh, then rested her hand on it, staking her claim, her touch feeling electric and making sparks dance low in his belly—no wonder she loved it when he did the same thing to her; it felt really fucking good.

“We’ll be quick,” he told her. He kissed the sensitive spot right below her ear and smiled at how she shivered. His fingertips skated over the soft, stretchy fabric covering her inner thigh on their path to the heat radiating between her legs. "Come on, baby," he said, softly kissing her jaw. His hand made it to her pussy, where she was hot, and her neediness had started to seep through the layers. "You're already so wet for me."

He was so focused on her that the sudden feeling of her palm on his dick had a groan slipping from his throat and excitement jolting in his stomach. His mouth went dry as she started stroking him over his pants, getting him completely hard in record time.

"As much as I'd love to have a quickie with you back at the house," she said, "it's too risky. So, counteroffer."

His hand was under her dress, rubbing her sex.

"Counteroffer?" he asked and nibbled on her earlobe.

She gulped, and he loved that she was just as affected by him as he was by her. "Yes, a counteroffer—we've got twenty-five/thirty minutes before we're back at your dad's, and I know you're ridiculously horny—" That was an understatement; his libido was running rampant and his desire for her was consuming every cell in his body, and he thought he might go insane if he didn't fuck her soon. "—and,” she continued, “you won't be able to enjoy yourself at the party because of it. So, how about I make you feel a little better by getting you off with my hand."

The thought of her jerking him off made him twitch in her palm.

When it came to hand jobs, either the person giving it knew what they were doing, or it felt like they were trying to tug his dick right off his body. His wife was thankfully in the first category and had taken the time to learn what he liked; in terms of only using hands, there was nothing better than her working him over—he'd rather fuck her, of course, but if this was all they could do for the time being, then he wasn't going to say no, and she was right; if he didn’t come and alleviate some of his horniness, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy himself tonight.

He rasped in her ear, "Counteroffer."

She snorted. "A counteroffer to my counteroffer?"

"Yeah, it's called negotiation."

She squeezed his shaft, and his breath caught in his throat. "Okay, smartass, what's your counteroffer?"

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he smiled. "We get off together—I'll rub your pussy, and you can jerk me off, but only if you'll still be able to drive.” It was getting darker now that the sun had set, and his truck’s headlights guided them across the landscape. “Otherwise,” he went on, “yes, mi amor (my love), you can make me come with your hand."

She bit her lip, thinking it over, her eyes staying on what was in front of them—his pickup’s newer suspension dulled the bumps of the uneven ground. “I’ll still be able to drive, and it’s not like there’s anything out here for me to hit.” There weren’t any trees or cattle where they were, just miles and miles of grass and more grass until they reached the gate that opened to the road. “How romantic,” she said, “our first time fooling around as husband and wife, and it’s hand stuff in your truck, like our first date—get your dick out. Let’s do this.”

Her agreement was like pouring gasoline over the flames in his belly, making them roar, his skin practically vibrating from anticipation. Right away, his hands went to his belt, the buckle clinking as he undid it, and within seconds he had his pants open, his cock springing free when he pushed his underwear down and tucked them under his balls to keep them out of the way. He was already leaking from the tip, so hard and throbbing, he needed friction desperately, having to grip himself and give it a few strokes.

She glanced over at his lap, her face illuminated by the soft light of the sky outside and the pickup’s dashboard; the first word that popped into his mind was ‘beautiful.’

“My husband has the prettiest dick,” she mused, “and it’s all mine—talk about being the luckiest wife in the world; move your hand, babe.” He let go and watched as she turned her attention forward again and spit in her palm, the action causing heat to shoot down to his cock, making it twitch.

Her touch was searing when she took him in hand, his hips bucking up into it of their own accord as Javier groaned.

“Last night, I couldn’t sleep,” she said, stroking him from base to tip and twisting on the upstroke for her fingers to rub along the sensitive spots under the head. “I was alone in your room—” She stayed at his dad’s the night before without him. “—in your bed, smelling you everywhere, and I missed you so much that I kept thinking about our wedding, but when that started making me anxious, I began imagining what we’d do after partying with everyone.” She didn’t know he got them a suite at the nicest hotel in town. Her palm felt so good on him, he just remembered he was supposed to be getting her off, too—he leaned into her side, his arm reaching across his body to get his hand under her dress, over the stretchy material covering her, knowing his fingers hit the right spot when her breath hitched; he started circling her clit, his lips going to a spot behind her ear he knew made her toes curl, and kissed it. “Mmm,” she hummed in appreciation.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked, the words coming out huskier.

She had to clear her throat.

“What your reaction will be when you see my lingerie.”

The thought alone had him breathing out a fuck, picturing a variety of pieces she could possibly wear, and what he knew for sure was whatever she chose would be better than anything he could imagine because she was intimately aware of all of the little things that drove him wild.

“Then I started imagining how you’d fuck me in it,” she said, her tone turning sultry. Javier’s heart was pounding, his lips parting; she had his dick in the tight clutch of her fist, steadily moving up and down his shaft, gliding with ease from her saliva and the beads of precum catching on her fingers. “I touched myself while I imagined you tossing me onto the bed and burying your face between my legs—“ He jerked in her palm that she played with herself while thinking about him. “—you’re dying to lick my pussy, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered truthfully. It was the first thing he planned to do when he had a chance, wanting to taste his wife.

“Yeah, you are—god, that feels so good.” His fingers continued swirling around her bundle of nerves. “Go a little faster.” He did. “That’s it,” she purred. “Mm, so I imagined you eating my pussy while you pushed two of your amazing, thick fingers into me, slipping in so easy from how wet I was and your come that was still inside me from when we fucked last night.”

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, easily imagining everything she was saying, thrusting up into her hand.

“There’s that slight stretch when you press them in, and they’re long enough to reach that spot—you know the one—I can’t reach it, I can’t even find it with my vibrator, but somehow you always zero in on it to make me see god, and you love that. You love to make me feel good, so I was rubbing my clit while thinking about how you’ll have me on my back as soon as we get home with your mouth on my cunt, and your fingers hitting that spot over and over again until I’m crying out your name, and coming all over your face.”

She had his mouth-watering and his cock weeping arousal, Javier needing to get her just as worked up as him, so he didn’t get to the finish line before her—he needed to make his wife come before him. It was a challenge to focus with her stroking him just right, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself before he hovered his lips over her ear so the hot air leaving his mouth would tickle her skin.

“What you imagined,” he rasped, “is that what you think will happen, or what you want to happen? Do you want your husband to eat your perfect little pussy when we’re finally alone in our room?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His lips met the side of her neck, softly kissing it. “And after your husband drowns in your come, what do you want? Do you want his big dick down your throat? Or will your needy cunt be too hungry for your husband’s cock?” She moaned, and the sound went straight to his groin; he fucking had her. Javier’s fingers kept moving against her clit the way she liked. “Mmm, of course, you want me to fill your tight pussy; you’re always craving my dick.”

“God, yes,” she gasped, her hand continuing to work him over.

“No one’s ever stuffed you so full or filled you so perfectly, huh? Is that what you want, baby?” He kissed her jaw. “You want your husband to fuck you? You want your husband’s dick? My dick that belongs to you and only you.”

“Yes,” she answered, and he nuzzled against the side of her throat, loving how her perfume filled his nose. Her breaths were coming out heavier, her jaw slack.

“I’ll fuck you, mi amor.” His voice was muffled as his lips began a journey from the spot where her neck met her shoulder, kissing up to the delicate skin behind her ear, where he sucked—she let out a loud moan. He kept speaking, “I’ll give you whatever you want—I’ll fuck you however you want. You want me to put you on your hands and knees and fuck you until you’re cockdumb?”

“Oh, fuck, I’m almost there.” Her words came out breathy. “Don’t stop.”

His mouth was at the side of her head, keeping his voice low, “Yeah, you want me to fuck you until I have you drooling—I’ll fuck you so good that the only word said from those perfect lips is my name. Then after I make you come all over my cock, I’m gonna fuck you full of me—fill you up to the point I’m dripping out of you. I know you want your husband to fuck his come so deep inside of you that we’ll have a baby in nine months.” She made a choked noise. “You want your husband to get you pregnant.”

The previous week was their first attempt at actually trying for a baby, and now that there was a chance she could be pregnant, saying all that stuff riled them up even more than it usually did, so it wasn’t surprising that it did her in—her hand suddenly stopped, her body tensing up tight as she softly gasped his name, Javier’s fingers still rubbing her swollen bud to extend her high.

“Good girl,” he praised and kissed her cheek.

She was panting, her chest heaving. Her driving hadn’t been hindered, and she swallowed hard, Javier stopping his hand.

A smile was on her lips as she glanced over for a second. “My husband’s turn.” She winked, and he huffed out a breath. She dragged her thumb over the tip of his dick, smearing the dribbling precum, then tightened her palm around it, moving up and down in quick, shallow strokes.

“Fuck,” Javier whined. His mouth fell open, and the muscles in his gut were knotting up.

Truth be told, the shit he said to her had gotten to him, too, and he couldn't believe how close he was to coming after the handful of minutes they’d been at this. It reminded him of his first experience messing around with a girl in his teens, both of them virgins with no idea what the fuck they were doing, and he was so excited he blew his load after a minute of her hand fumbling on his cock—this time he made it past a minute, but compared to how long he usually lasted, this was going to end embarrassingly quick.

Cielito’s attention went back to looking out the windshield. “You wanna know what got me off last night when I was fantasizing about tonight?” He was so hard it hurt, and he couldn’t speak, so he nodded. “That as you fucked my brains out, I could feel your wedding ring on my skin wherever your hand was—my ass, my tit, my back, my belly, my face—I knew I was being fucked by my husband, that you were mine.”

The realization he’d feel/see her wedding band, too, caused a strangled moan to leave his mouth—his hips thrusted up into her palm as best he could while sitting, the rhythm jerky with desperation.

“Is my husband gonna come for me?” It thrilled him every time she called him that and fueled the white-hot ache boiling deep in his stomach that begged for release. Javier was so close he was balancing on a wire and on the verge of tipping over. “Come for me, baby,” she ordered. “Come for your wife.”

Wasn’t this a similar scenario to the first time he got a hand job? He was fooling around with his wife for the first time and was abso-fuckin-lutely excited to have her touching him, add in his happiness over being a married man and the fact this incredible woman loved him, and yeah, it did make sense that Javier was about to come quicker than a virgin in a whorehou—“shit,” he groaned. “‘M coming.”

His balls drew up, and the coil in his gut snapped, Javier letting out a shuddering moan as he came in her hand—she caught spurt after spurt of his spend in her palm, the pleasure exploding behind his eyelids, and erasing all thoughts from his mind as she wrung him out to the point he slumped in his seat, panting, and riding out the aftershocks.

The orgasm had him all nice and relaxed and had calmed the horniness, turning it from a screaming ache to something softer and easier to handle.

It took a moment for his brain to start working again, and the first thing he said was, “I love you.” A need came over him to feel her lips on his, so he gently grasped her chin in his hand, turning her head at an awkward angle that allowed her to still see where they were going while he kissed one side of her mouth.

“Mmm, I love you, too,” you muffled against his lips, breathing in his aftershave and spicy cologne with its familiar citrusy notes and the lovely musk.

Honestly, it was pure luck that you didn’t run into any holes while you distractedly drove. Javi touching you while you jerked him off would’ve been impossible to do on an actual road, not to mention unbelievably dangerous, with your attention being pulled in three different directions—driving, getting fingered, and jerking him off. Your husband—god, you loved the thought of that—your husband didn’t have any issues fooling around when he was driving, and you weren’t sure if it was because of his skill at multitasking or all of the practice he’d had in his youth; his truck from his teens saw a lot of action and was his favorite place to get busy. It was probably a mix of the two, and he was both skilled and had the practice, which would explain why he was perfectly fine with you choking on his cock as he drove—when he was sober. It was possible Tipsy Javi wouldn’t have any problems, either, but that wasn’t something you felt like testing.

One of your hands was on the steering wheel, and the other was closed to keep the handful of Javi’s come from dripping out—obviously, you were thinking with your pussy when you offered to give him a handy since you didn’t have a plan for what you’d do once he finished.

His mouth left yours, and you faced forward, your husband tucking his softened dick back into his underwear, then he leaned in the opposite direction of you to pop open the glove compartment, hearing him rustling around in it. He straightened, his big hand carefully grasping your wrist in his lap.

“Open,” he said, and with your palm up, you did.

Warmth filled your chest when you felt him using tissues to clean up the mess, and you looked over to see he had a small pocket pack of Kleenex opened on his thigh.

“The best husband,” you told him and focused back on driving. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, cariño (sweetheart).” He’d gotten most of it wiped up. “I know you were playing dirty when you licked your fingers clean on our first date to try and get me to stay the night, but tonight, I don’t need a show; nothing will keep me from going home with you, and letting you use me however you want.”

“Love that for me, but be honest, babe. You’re wiping it up so I don’t turn you on by eating it.”

He sighed and finished cleaning your hand, discarding the used tissues onto the floor.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, moving to put the remaining pack of Kleenex back from where it came.

You smiled. “My adorably horny husband.”

He sat back in his seat and lifted your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist; the sensitive skin tingled beneath his plush lips and the tickle of his mustache.

“Who’s only horny for his beautiful wife,” he added, his thumb gently rubbing over where he kissed. “Now, keep your eyes forward and your hand up like this for me, please.”

“Intriguing request,” you replied, keeping your hand raised in front of him.

There was movement out of the corner of your eye, Javi getting something from the open glove box.

"Whatcha doing?" you asked, hearing what you thought was the soft slide of a lid coming off something.

"In a second, you'll know—be patient."

You frowned. "Fine."

He was right—a second later, you discovered he was putting a bracelet onto your wrist, thinking it was some kind of bangle with how Javi had to push the thin, rigid, ring-shaped metal over your hand to get it on and somehow tightened it, keeping it a little loose for your comfort.

"Before you look," Javi said, holding your fingers in his palm and sliding the pad of his thumb along your knuckles. I know we didn't talk about getting gifts for each other, so please don't feel bad that you don't have anything for me.”

“You got me a wedding present?” you whispered.

His face dipped to kiss the back of your hand. “Yes,” he answered, then turned his head, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. He spoke softly, “We have our rings to celebrate our marriage, but I wanted you to have something that celebrated us as a family.”

Your eyes started to burn at the sweetness of this man, and for the umpteenth time, you wondered to yourself how in the world you got so lucky that he was your husband.

“Oh my god, Javi—can I look?”

“Yes,” he answered, reaching up to push the overhead light and clicking it on. The inside of the truck brightened.

You held up your hand, your eyes moving back and forth between the headlight-illuminated ground ahead of you and admiring the bracelet—it was gold, like your engagement ring and wedding band, the ends of the thin wire crossing each other, and looping around the opposite side to keep it together with two small teardrop-shaped pendants dangling from it, the first one you immediately recognized as the birthstone for the month you were born, and the second was turquoise, the opaque robin-egg blue gem shining under the light.

Tears muddled your vision. “Our birthstones?” you asked but knew the answer.

“Yes, mi amor.” He turned off the light and took your lifted hand into both of his. “My dad always bought my mom jewelry for special occasions, like her necklace you’re wearing—” Chucho was letting you borrow it, the necklace made up of what looked like connected silver waves with purple sapphires in each dip. “—I think that was an anniversary gift, or maybe a birthday—”

“Anniversary,” you told him. “Their twentieth. Your mom yelled at him when he gave it to her for spending so much money, then changed her tune and supposedly gave him a bunch of kisses, but with how fondly your dad sighed recounting the story, I’m positive he was giving me the Disney version of events, when in reality what actually happened couldn’t be shown in theaters if you know what I mean.”

"Tissue me," you said, shaking his hands off your one and holding out your palm. "I don't want to ruin my makeup while I happily cry."

"Fuck," Javi said, immediately digging out the Kleenex from the glove compartment again and putting two tissues into your hand. "I'm sorry."

You blotted at your eyes as you spoke, "There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Javi. This has just been a great fucking day, and this bracelet is perfect—I love that we can add onto it as we have kids. I love you so much." The overwhelming happiness had you crying and trying to catch all the tears before they fell down your face.

"I love you, too, Cielito," he replied. He managed to get his arms around your middle to hug you from the side while kissing your cheek.

It took some seconds for you to calm down, and you loved how he was holding you.

The mascara-stained tissue was clutched in your fist, and you leaned toward him, gently knocking your head against his. “Thank you,” you softly said.

His voice was as low as yours, “For what?”

“Loving me, marrying me, having a family with me—everything, thank you for everything, and making me the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“I should be the one thanking you for everything—I know I came with a lot of baggage, but you looked past it; hell, I think you barely glanced at it before giving me a chance, and I’m thankful that none of it scared you away.” He took a deep breath. “You love me for me, flaws and all, and you need to understand that I’m yours—you have all of my love and devotion, and I’m gonna do everything in my power not to fuck this up because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I want to give you the entire fucking world. So, thank you for everything and for making me the happiest man in existence.”

You turned your head his way as best you could while still being able to see out of the windshield and puckered your lips. “Kiss me,” you demanded.

Javi chuckled, sitting forward to reach your mouth and kissing you tenderly, his arms around you tightening. He pecked the tip of your nose before he pulled back, his eyes roaming over your face in what little light there was from the dashboard and stereo.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he sounded almost in awe.

You snorted and faced the truck’s hood. “My makeup is probably all messed up,” you replied. “I’ll need to stop by your room real quick to touch it up and go to the bathroom before the party.” He visibly perked up in your peripheral, and you rolled your eyes, continuing to speak, “No, we’re not having a quickie, Javier.”

His shoulders slumped.

“You told me to be patient a little bit ago,” you said, “and now it’s your turn to be patient; hold your horses. I promise we’re gonna have sex, but we need to get through celebrating with our friends and family first—we owe it to them after how they’ve helped make today perfect. Knowing your family, the party is probably going to go on until tomorrow morning, and I think we’ll be fine if we disappear around midnight; then we can go home, lock ourselves away from the world, and fuck to our heart’s content, or at least until your dick chafes.”

You didn’t have to look at his face to know he grimaced. “Amor (love), you do know that my dick chafing means I’m fucking you wrong, right? Like, it’d mean you were dry, or there wasn’t enough lube—would I ever do that to you?”

“No, of course not—I’m exaggerating, babe.” You patted his thigh. “Sometimes I think your middle name is actually ‘Foreplay’ with how into it you are, and even if I tell you to stick it in without warming me up, you always make sure things are slick enough for you to Slip ‘N Slide right in.”

“Did you really just use ‘Slip ‘N Slide’ to describe me putting my dick inside you?” He sounded amused.

“Yeah? You make it slippery and slide right in—where’s the lie?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I love you so much.”

You grinned, glancing over at him. “Thank god you do, ‘cause you kinda married me,” you said, switching hands on the steering wheel to flash him the rings on your left ring finger.

In the dimmed cab, you could see him smiling, and he pressed into your side, saying between kisses to your shoulder and neck, “I didn’t ‘kinda’ marry you. I married you. Period.” His hand pawed at your dress-covered breasts. “You’re my wife, and I’m your husband. We’re officially Mr. and Mrs. Peña.”

“Isn’t that the best thing to say?”

He chuckled, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “It really fucking is.”

"You're joking," Javier said, not believing what Cielito told him.

His outfit was put back together, wearing his black tuxedo and bow tie, with the lavender-colored pocket square and one of his mother’s violet roses pinned to his lapel—he stood in the entryway of his dad’s house outside his childhood bedroom, his wife blocking the door in front of him. She crossed her arms over her chest, and the look on her face made it clear she wasn’t joking.

“I’m serious,” she replied. “You’re not coming in here with me alone.”

They had promised Chucho before the wedding that they wouldn’t do their big entrance at the party without him there because he wanted to take pictures of it. So, the plan was for Cielito to touch up her makeup, and then the two of them were going to hang out for a few minutes until his father and everyone else from the ceremony got there.

Surprisingly, the home was practically empty, with everyone in the backyard where music was already blaring. His prima (cousin) Alma had greeted them when they arrived and was in the living room behind him, staying close in case they needed anything since they couldn’t go outside.

His face scrunched up from confusion.

“You’re acting like I have no self-control—I can keep my hands to myself.”

She scoffed. “That is a dirty fucking lie, and it’s not just you; we both have shitty self-control. The moment that door shuts, and we’re alone, it’s game over, and our marriage will be consummated on the floor of the bedroom you grew up in.”

“The dusty ass floor? No.” He shook his head. “You deserve better than that, and I’d fuck you against the bathroom counter so we can look at each other in the mirror—you love that shit.”

She gestured toward him with her hand and harshly whispered, “And that is why we can’t go into the room alone! You’ve already thought out exactly how you’d fuck me!”

His palm went up onto the doorframe above her head as he leaned in close, ignoring how her eyes darkened, and whispering back just as aggressively, “I’ve had that figured out since the moment you said ‘I do!’ Right now, all I want is to be in the same room as you, and that’s it. So, why don’t we both promise to be on our best behavior, no funny business, or whatever the fuck, because I need to be near you, my wife.” His free hand cradled her cheek, rubbing his thumb along the apple of it, his gaze locked on hers as he practically pleaded, “Please don’t leave me out here alone.”

It was true that all he wanted was to be close to her. He’d steal some kisses, but that was as far as he’d go since she made it clear on their way here that they weren’t going to have sex before the party; Javier wasn’t going to be an asshole and try to change her mind, he respected her choice.

With how her expression softened he knew she could see he was telling the truth.

“Come in with me,” she said, putting her hand over the back of his on her face—he loved that he could feel the cool metal of her rings on his skin. “But we will be on our best behavior and absolutely no funny business.”

He smiled. “None.” He nudged his nose against hers. “Is kissing funny business?”

“No,” she breathed. “Kissing is fine—no tongue, though.”

“No tongue. Noted.” He slotted his lips against hers, kissing her sweetly.

“Ustedes dos son repugnantes (You two are disgusting),” Alma said loud enough for them to hear from the living room—she was the youngest of Javier’s primos (cousins), and in her last year at university. Spring term was starting the following week. “Y tontos (and dumb),” she continued. “Les digo con amor (I say it with love). Si ustedes están tan preocupados, mantengan la puerta abierta (If you guys are so worried, then keep the door open). La solución es obvia (The solution is obvious). La tía Lupita tenía razón cuando dijo que los dos son unos dramáticos (Tía Lupita was right when she called you dramatic).”

Javier groaned, breaking the kiss. “No llames tonta a mi esposa ni hables como si no estuviéramos aqui (Don’t call my wife dumb and don’t talk like we aren’t here),” he told the young girl.

“Es que hablan tan alto que ni siquiera puedo ignorarlos (You’re so loud I can’t even ignore you). Apurense, que tío está en camino, llegará en cualquier momento (You better hurry up, tío’s on his way and will be here any minute).”

“She’s right,” Cielito said. “I better hurry up and fix my face.”

His head moved back to look her in the eyes. “Okay,” he replied. He whispered the next part so the woman in the other room didn’t hear him, “She had a point about the door—we should keep it open.”

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”

The bedroom door stayed open when they went inside, Javier following his wife into the bathroom. This was something he loved to do, leaning back against the vanity and watching her put on makeup, or other times wash her face or apply her creams and serums, as they talked and joked around, the smile never wavering from his face. It was comfortable being there with her, and her presence soothed him; he was listening to her telling him about her day, and he wished he could’ve been there while she got ready for their wedding, but he also loved that the first time he saw her all dressed up was when his father walked her to him at the ceremony.

Alma was correct, and Chucho arrived, finding them in the en suite, the Murphys, Robyn, and his primos Sebastián and Angelita going out back. With how rowdy these parties could get, his wife decided to take off his mother’s necklace and put it back in its thin, black leather case to keep it safe. Once she finished touching up her makeup, it was time to head outside.

Their reception was being held under a giant white wall-less pole tent in his father’s massive backyard—the dance floor was set up in the center of it with many circular tables on either side, the DJ booth his cousin Diego was using at the edge of it closest to the long side that had a buffet along it prepared by his tías and their daughters/daughters in law, and a bar manned by his tío Ángel; the middle of the opposite side had a two-person sweetheart’s table where Cielito and he would sit to eat, the desserts table with the three-tier wedding cake and other sweets next to theirs.

They didn’t bother with a seating chart, seeing as 90% of the guests were related to him, and the remaining 10% were friends who everyone liked—there was a round table close to them reserved for his dad, the Murphys, Robyn, and Seb since they declined to sit at a bigger table with the newlyweds.

Chucho told them to follow him out the backdoor because he had a surprise before they made their grand entrance at the party. Javier held his wife’s hand as they exited into the backyard, the sky darkened, and stars were beginning to shine, the area lit up from string lights overhead being held up by poles, the lemony scent of citronella wafting in the air from the numerous tiki torches surrounding the tent to keep away bugs.

Immediately, the newlyweds were walking toward their bovine daughters, and upon Daphne and Velma seeing them, their tails started wagging in excitement like giant puppies—tail wagging meant different things for calves and full-grown cows. A calf did it when they were happy; an adult, though? It usually indicated they were irritated, and you better get the fuck out of the way, or you were going to get kicked.

As soon as Javier and his wife were close enough, they were giving the girls pets; he was scratching the red-haired calf under her chin on the spot he knew she loved.

“Oh, mis preciosas que lindas estan! (my lovelies, look how pretty you are!),” he cooed. “Que chulas (So cute).” He traded places with Cielito to give Velma some love. “Me encantan tus coronitas (I love your little crowns). Mis princesitas (My little princesses).”

“Mijo,” his father said to get his attention, and he looked back over his shoulder at him. The older man had his camera hanging around his neck, and he held it up. “Quiero tomar una foto de tu familia, por favor (I want to take a picture of your family, please).”

His family.

If someone told him a year ago that in the next twelve months, he was going to meet his soulmate, marry her, and they’d actively be trying for a baby, he would’ve asked what they were on because it had to be something good with how delusional all of that sounded—if they’d said scientists would find proof the moon was made of cheese, that would’ve been more believable than Javier getting a family of his own and truly being happy.

But it had happened. He found his person, the one, and now he had his own family.

He made sure to tell his wife many times before their wedding that she was a part of his family, and he meant it—their marriage simply solidified it, setting in stone that she was officially a Peña, and their lives were firmly intertwined for life; it also was the beginning of their own little family, one that started with the two of them and would slowly grow as they had children.

Warmth spread through his body that in another year, they could have a kid—they'd hopefully be living in their house they were building with their baby and the dog he wanted to get; he didn't have a particular dog in mind, but his father said that when they move in with him while waiting for their home to be finished, they could get one, and Javier planned on adopting from the local shelter.

“Por supuesto que sí, Pop (Of course, Pop),” Javier replied. “Dame un segundo (Give me a second).”

He walked over to the bucket and pulled out two long carrots, handing one to his smiling wife when he returned to her and stealing a quick kiss. They’d found the best way to get the calves to stay still while getting their pictures taken was plying them with treats, so the two humans got between the bovines, Javier beside Cielito with his arm around her back, facing his dad. They both held up a carrot to the girl on their other side, who happily started to munch away. They grinned as the flash repeatedly went off, Chucho taking many photos.

“¡Bésala (Kiss her)!” his father ordered, making him and his wife laugh, but doing as they were told, turning their heads toward each other, and Javier sealing his lips against hers.

All that time ago in the grocery store when they first met, something happened as they talked; he felt a funny sensation in his gut that he didn’t recognize at first because it was so foreign, and it wasn’t until he was unable to stop thinking about the sweet, beautiful woman who helped him find the perfect tomato on his drive home that he realized the fluttering in his stomach was butterflies, honest to god butterflies that he probably hadn’t felt since high school.

The thing was, they never went away after that first encounter, and any time he was around her, the butterflies went wild like he was some lovesick teenager.

And right now, the wings were flapping like crazy in his belly as he kissed her, his wife.

A hard skull headbutted his hip, and he ended the kiss, Cielito giggling as they separated. He looked down at Velma, who’d finished her carrot and was begging for more by bumping into him, his wife, in the same predicament.

The woman next to him cooed to Daphne, “Your abuelo (grandpa) feeds you well. Why are you acting like you’re starving?”

The camera’s flash had stopped going off. His father must’ve finished taking pictures.

Javier bent at the waist to scratch the black-haired calf’s cheeks.

He spoke in a sweet tone, “Porque nuestras hijas son malcriadas (Because our daughters are spoiled). Aren’t you? Bien, una más y luego tenemos que irnos (Okay, one more then we have to go).” They’d need to run back inside to wash their hands.

Chucho walked over to the bucket, his camera resting against his chest as he grabbed two turnips and brought the root vegetables to them that they took and gave to the girls after saying thanks.

Running inside to wash their hands should've only taken a couple of minutes, but the newlyweds fucked up and closed the door when they went into the bathroom, so a couple minutes turned into five and would've been more if his dad hadn't interrupted their heavy makeout session his wife started—when his father yelled and banged on the door, Javier had Cielito backed against a wall with her dress raised enough to hike her leg up on his hip, while his big hand gripped her thigh over a blue garter he couldn’t wait to take off; their lips were fused together with his tongue in her mouth, the no tongue rule while kissing clearly flying out the window.

Sure, it was embarrassing, but it confirmed that their self-control was so shitty when they were left alone that later on, once they arrived at the party and the festivities started, if he could find them a nice secluded spot, things would heat up to the point they’d end up fucking, and Javier wanted nothing more than to be inside his wife; she said no sex before the party, she didn’t say anything about no sex during it, and you can bet your ass he was going to exploit that loophole the first chance he got—he was already figuring out potential places he could take her inside and outside Chucho’s house.

He had to adjust himself in his pants, so it wasn’t obvious he was hard before they sheepishly exited the bathroom to his dad standing in the hallway shaking his head with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Eres peor de lo que yo era con tu mamá, Mijo (You’re worse than I was with your mom, Mijo),” Chucho said. “No puedo dejarlos solos ni un minuto (I can’t leave you alone for a minute).”

“Oye (Hey),” Javier replied, “me dijiste que la besara antes (you told me to kiss her earlier). No puedes estar enojado conmigo por hacer lo que dijiste (You can’t be mad at me for doing what you said).”

If his mother were here, his smartass response would’ve gotten him hit upside the head with a chancla (flip-flop)—his father, on the other hand, just gave him the look that meant Javier needed to cut the shit; it was the look that even as a full-grown forty-year-old man, made him gulp.

“Eso fue diferente y lo sabes (That was different and you know it). Ahora, deja de ser grosero con tus invitados haciéndolos esperar y sal afuera (Now, stop being rude to your guests by making them wait and go outside).”

“Lo siento, Pop (I’m sorry, Pop). Nosotros vamos afuera ahora mismo (We’re going outside right now).”

“Bueno (Good).” Chucho nodded. “Le dir�� a tu primo que estás listo (I’ll tell your cousin you’re ready).” He meant Diego, who was the emcee and deejaying.

Returning to the backyard, they waited for their arrival to be announced and got to watch from a distance how his primo was working the crowd under the tent from his small DJ booth. Diego was currently playing “Amor Prohibido'' by Selena, and the beer and liquor were already flowing amongst the party guests, many of them standing at their tables dancing and singing along to the song. They could see his dad weaving through the people, heading to his cousin.

Cielito stood in front of him, fussing with his hair while he held her hips over the buttery-soft material of her dress.

She was nervous.

He could see it in her eyes and how she repeatedly asked if she looked okay, which he always answered with the truth: she looked more than okay; she was stunning. Now, she was fixing his already perfect hair, and next, she’d move onto his tuxedo to probably smooth out wrinkles that weren’t there or adjust his bowtie that needed no adjustment because it soothed her to take care of him.

“Is it all the people, mi amor?” he asked softly.

“Huh?” She smoothed her palms over his jacket-covered shoulders.

“Is it all the people that’s making you nervous?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Selena’s upbeat tune, which Javier knew every word to, was still going.

“You wanna know something?”

She was busying her fingers with straightening his straight bowtie. “Sure.”

“This song reminds me of us.”

She looked at him, her hands pausing. “The only people who consider our love forbidden are my DNA Donors…”

He took her hands into his larger ones and kissed her knuckles. “Exactly.” He leaned closer so his mouth was near her ear and quietly sang some of the lines from the beginning of the track:

“Y cuando al fin estemos juntos, los dos (And when we are finally together, the two of us) Que importa que diran (What does it matter what they will say) Tu padre y tu mama (Your father and your mother) Aquí, solo importa nuestro amor (Here, only our love matters) Te quiero (I love you).”

The song was almost over, and Javier switched to singing along with what was playing:

“‘Amor prohibido,’ murmuran por las calles (‘Forbidden Love,’ they murmur in the streets) Porque somos de distintas sociedades (Because we’re from different societies) ‘Amor prohibido,’ nos dice todo el mundo (‘Forbidden Love’ is what the whole world tells us) El dinero no importa en ti ni en mí (Money doesn’t matter in you nor in me).”

Suddenly, his wife was gently pushing him back, her mouth finding his a second later, kissing him hard; he hugged her flush against his body, unable to keep the smile off of his lips—love had filled every nook and cranny in his chest to the point of almost bursting, contentment making his body feel all warm and fuzzy.

The music had stopped, and Diego could be heard over the sound system, “Señores y señoras, familia y amigos, démosle la bienvenida a los novios, Mr. and Mrs. Peña (Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, let’s welcome the bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. Peña)!”

When it came to them choosing the language used for their ceremony and reception, they based their decision on what the majority of the guests spoke fluently—their ceremony was in English because it was attended mainly by the Murphys and with the high ratio of the reception’s guests being his family, they went with Spanish.

The beginning horns of their intro music, “Tiburon” by Proyecto Uno, started playing over the sound system, and they broke apart, grinning.

He cupped her cheek. “Ready, Mrs. Peña?” he asked.

“Ready, Mr. Peña.” She stepped to stand at his side, taking his hand, and he lightly squeezed it before they started walking with smiles on their faces toward the uproar beneath the tent of music, cheering, and clapping.

The moon was hanging in the dark night sky, surrounded by bright, twinkling stars, their path illuminated by zig-zagging string lights above their heads. The tent was wall-less, but they put up white lattice arches at either end, which were decorated with fake ivy and signs at their sides welcoming everyone to the party. Inside, rows of more string lights were across the ceiling; the tablecloths on every table were the same shade of soft purple as his pocket square, and atop the tabletops were clear vases filled with sprigs of lavender, that served as decoration and kept away any bugs who made it past the citronella tiki torches outside—his wife’s great idea.

As soon as they got to their little two-person table, dinner would start, keeping people busy for a while and giving them some time to sit alone together.

Javier was on a mission to get them seated as quickly as possible; he didn’t wave, he didn’t stop to talk to anyone, he just smiled, holding his wife’s hand that every few seconds he’d give a reassuring squeeze to remind her he was right there, and matched her pace, unable to stop himself from looking over to check up on her at almost the same frequency of his palm tightening around hers—he was so focused on her that everything else was a blur of faceless people and camera flashes.

The moment they were at their table, he was turning her way, his hands framing her face as he searched her eyes, and she visibly relaxed when she met his gaze, the tension leaving her shoulders. Her palms came up to cover the backs of his hands with a happy, little smile on her lips.

Javier spoke loud enough for her to hear over the ruckus. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

He crookedly smiled and closed the distance, tenderly kissing her—the room seemed to erupt in louder cheers and wolf-whistles. His mouth left hers to whisper in her ear, “I love you, and if it gets to be too much, just say the word, and I’ll get you out of here.”

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years ago

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Hello! I was wondering if you could do a platonic Springbonnie x Reader where the reader knew him as Springbonnie when they were a kid and was shocked to encounter him as Springtrap as a grown up when they're working as the security guatd in Fnaf 3. (Your headcanons for the spring boi broke mah heart tho–)

Yes haha those hcs were from long ago and I still 100% agree with them. Also this Springbonnie SFM with Hidden in the Sand by Tally Hall melted my heart so that’s gonna be some loose inspiration here

........

We were playing in the sand And you found a little band

A warm golden light filled the diner, along with the sound of soft music coming from the speakers on either side of the main stage.

Today was a relatively quiet day. No noisy kids running around. Barely any fussy parents. It was surprising for the employees; such a lull during the day was rare.

Fortunately for one of the kids, that gave them the opportunity to visit their favorite bunny without fear of being pushed to the back.

And no, it wasn’t Bonnie. That big hulking purple rabbit was cool but never had the bubbliness nor the charm as the other rabbit did.

"Hey, Springy!"

“Oh hey! My favorite little bunny’s come to visit!” Springbonnie beamed at your greeting as he turned to see you there. He knelt down in front of your small form so his height didn’t look intimidating. His bright green eyes were literally lit up with joy, spotting the Springbonnie plush in your hands.

Those never sold as well as Fredbear’s. And although he didn’t mind it much--since this was Fredbear’s Family Diner and not Springbonnie’s Family Diner--it would be a lie if he didn’t get a tad bit jealous of his bandmate’s fame from time to time.

Setting his banjo down, he opened his arms up to you, and you eagerly stood on the tips of your toes to hug him. His fur was soft and warm, tickling your nose a bit as well. He sighed and kept you secured in his arms.

It was nice to hug a child as himself, and not as someone else wearing him for a costume.

This just felt so much more natural. Not to mention you were respectful and not tugging on his ears or bowtie.

You were his favorite, without a doubt.

You told me you fell in love with it Hadn't gone as I planned

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. You’ll be in suit mode more often this week. Same as Fredbear. Now hold still and don’t make a fuss. Wouldn’t want any accidents, right?”

“..no, boss.”

“Good.” After switching Springbonnie to suit mode, William called the new hire backstage. Today he was going to show them how to operate a springlock suit, in preparation for his youngest son’s upcoming birthday party. He wanted everything to be perfect.

He already assumed they’ve listened to the tapes regarding how much caution was needed to ensure they were safe while wearing the costume.

Since it was their first time wearing one like this, he helped them ease into it. After making sure the head’s springlocks were compressed against the walls, he looked at them, showing the inside. “Not so bad, innit? Perfectly safe. Just don’t sweat too much and those locks won’t pop off.”

“R-Right, I know. I just..” The employee stiffly raised their arms, looking at their hands. “I’ve worn mascot costumes at carnivals and none of them had this crazy stuff-”

“Are you working for their sorry arses or us?”

“Wh..y-you guys, of course!”

“I thought so. You’ll be fine once you get used to it.”

As the backdoors swung shut, you frowned slightly, disappointed at the fact you wouldn’t see Springbonnie as himself for a while. You then heard a sniffle beside you and noticed a boy holding a Fredbear plushie.

“Hi, aren’t you his kid?”

He jumped a bit and looked at you, nodding meekly. You smiled. “I’m kinda jealous. You get to have your birthday party at your dad’s work place. That’s pretty cool.”

But he just shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks, and you wondered if you said something wrong. Then he flinched and saw someone in Fredbear’s suit approach you two. He hid behind you, sniffling and sobbing quietly.

“Awh is someone scared?” “Fredbear” tried to mimic a deep jolly voice, but it was a really poor attempt.

You nodded and backed away. “We’re just gonna head home.”

“Okay! Buh-bye!”

In haste, you left the diner and walked the boy home. Every kid you stopped to talk to only teased him for his crying and fears of animatronics. But you reassured him they weren’t as bad as they seemed.

Springbonnie, for example, wasn’t scary at all! He was a sweet bunny.

You hoped to spend the day with him, but that didn’t go as planned.

Oh well, you gained another friend in the meantime.

When you had to bid adieu Said you'd never love anew

“Fred..please..wake up..i-it’s alright. Why won’t you say something??”

“Springy?”

“[Y/n]..! Y-You..” Flinching at the sight of you, Springbonnie cowered in the corner of the safe room, away from the limp costume of his friend. He hugged himself, wanting to hide the dried blood on his suit as much as he could.

No one should see him like this. Not after what happened.

First the incident with Fredbear..and then a freak accident with the newly-hired actor. The two of them were deemed unsafe, as either animatronic or a suit, so they were eventually retired and their diner was soon to be shut down. Only Freddy’s band was doing a few shows.

But what was even worse was that Springbonnie’s hands were stained in blood. Seemingly fresh blood that kept returning no matter how many times he was cleaned.

He only remembered William coming back here, using the crank without saying a word to him and then...

He woke up here again. Alone and feeling like he did something terrible, but couldn’t remember what.

“Y-You can’t be back here, little bunny. I'm not safe to be around.”

“I don’t believe that. What happened wasn’t your fault. I’ve just..been wanting to give you this for a while.”

Finally, you presented the drawing you’ve been meaning to show him: just a simple one of you and him smiling. He carefully took it from your hands, staring at it for a few moments before holding it to his chest.

Usually it would make him grin. But..not this time.

“Thank you, but..it doesn’t matter whose fault it was. Their decision was final. Ya won’t be seeing us ever again.” He mumbled, ears dropping as he looked down at his lap. “I wish things didn’t have to end like this..”

“It doesn’t have to be the end.” You reassured him, crouching down. Although Fredbear’s empty eyesockets were a little bit creepy, you ignored them in favor of gazing at the dimming green eyes of the rabbit. “I’ll miss you guys, but..when I’m older I’ll try to fix you two!”

Springbonnie blinked. “Y-You would really do that for us?”

“Yeah! I’ll just study hard and...uh..I’ll figure out the rest. But I wanna fix you up.”

“That..means a lot to me, [y/n]. Thank you so much.” He smiled warmly. “Do good in school and don’t forget about us, okay?”

“I’ll never forget.”

I wondered if I could hold it And fall in love with it too

"C’mon..bloody useless thing! Don’t fail me.”

‘No!! No don’t do this to me again!’

Despite Springbonnie’s AI being acutely aware of the current circumstances, he held no power in suit mode. And he was helpless as William put the costume on, not giving a damn about the risks of rushing into it.

Somehow those kids found him after he destroyed the animatronics, and they were going to haunt him forever unless he did something to make them leave him alone.

They weren’t going to see the terror in his eyes. He’ll be sure they were the ones terrorized instead, reminding them of how he decided their fates. Of how he was the one in charge here.

After stumbling to his feet and taking a few labored breaths, unaware of the slowly unwinding springlocks, William opened his eyes to see the ghosts just..staring at him.

They seemed surprised, huddled together. Not cornering him any further.

He realized his trick had worked.

And he grinned, starting to laugh, before it grew louder and echoed throughout the moldy dark ex-pizzeria. He paid no mind to the water droplets slowly leaking through the ceiling above.

“I can’t believe this! You lot are just as stupid as the day you perished!!”

‘Why are you laughing?! You’re gonna get yourself....!’

But Springbonnie didn’t finish the thought. He knew the surrounding conditions were ripe for another lethal springlock accident.

Yet this time, he didn’t dread that possibility.

Instead he anticipated it.

‘Actually, maybe you do deserve to suffer. That other employee didn’t...it was an accident. But...you...you deserve every bit of pain these springlocks bring!’

If it was fated to happen again, so be it.

No, it won’t hurt him. But it’ll be a slow and agonizing death for his creator--the demon who betrayed his own franchise and the children.

Especially you.

God, he hopes you’re out there somewhere, not among the spirits standing before him. He remembered your promise to come back and repair him, so that he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone ever again.

He’s not sure if you remembered, too.

But wherever you are, he hopes you’ll forgive him for what was about to happen.

'Sorry, little bunny..but there’s no fixing this.’

“Oooo~ Watch out, children! Big bad Springy’s gonna getcha-”

As William wagged his fingers in a taunting manner, the springlocks suddenly shifted back into place, crushing all ten of them at the same time. He gasped, barely having time to react as the rest of the mechanisms became undone, impaling him at every angle.

The eyes popped forward, blinding him completely as he howled out screams of agony, constricted by the metal lodged into his throat.

He collapsed and convulsed violently as blood pooled all around him, traveling to the very feet of the spirits who only watched.

They weren’t happy nor horrified. They didn’t know what to exactly feel. Except the peace of knowing this man wouldn’t be around to hurt anyone else.

As his back slumped against the wall and his twitching continued, they vanished one by one.

Soon his screaming ceased and all was silent.

Springbonnie was alone once more, but this time with his creator as his eternal prisoner.

You told me to buy a pony But all I wanted was you

“We found one. A REAL one!”

Now that this phone dude mentioned something interesting for once, you finally paid attention to him. But much to your disappointment, he abruptly had to end the call before he could elaborate further on his discovery.

As the recording ended, you went back to checking the cameras, wondering if meant you’ll see this “real one” wandering around at all.

So far there was nothing remarkable. Your second night here was relatively boring.

Except..you heard distant footsteps and you looked near the exit, barely able to make out the shadow of a large rabbit. But you weren’t sure if it was just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Sighing, you looked at the maintenance panel to make sure the ventilation was working alright. The guy mentioned how the lack of air flow might make you see crazy things..which didn’t make sense and certainly didn’t seem safe.

You understood the owner’s desire to keep the “immersion” of a haunted pizzeria, but it wasn’t like that place existed in the dark ages. Running a little a/c wouldn’t “ruin the illusion”.

Oh well, money’s money. And this was the only place hiring.

Checking the camera again, you were bewildered to see some kind of fox-like animatronic hanging upside down from the ceiling, its eyes glowing bright white while the rest of its body was shrouded in darkness.

‘Wait..is that-?’

All of the sudden, it vanished and you heard this god awful screeching static noise. Covering your ears, you looked up and saw the fox peek its head up on the opposite side of the window, still playing that sound.

It was like nails on a chalkboard but ten times worse.

You could see it was a greenish black color, looking like a grilled fox.

Then the noise stopped after a few moments and itdisappeared behind the window. You checked all the cameras but didn’t find it again. And the maintenance panel only revealed an audio error message.

“That was Mangle..” You muttered to yourself, rubbing your eyes as you waited for the error to fix itself. “Jeez..maybe he’s right. I’m just seeing things like...huh?”

*knock*

Hearing the gentler sound of knocking, you looked up at the window again and the new visitor surprised you:

A greenish sickly rabbit animatronic, staring at you with pale metallic eyes. They looked faintly green, too.

Haven’t you seen this character before?

You stood up and approached the window to get a closer look at him, wondering if this was just another hallucination. But the rabbit only twitched and tilted his head to the side, proving he could indeed see you.

Upon closer examination, you also noticed the grotesque flesh within his suit. It looked far too realistic to be a prop or costume. With the budget running this place you had doubts.

Suddenly, the animatronic snarled, slamming his fists against the glass. As it made a horrid groaning noise, you thought you saw what looked like a fleshy skull inside his mouth.

In brief panic you stumbled back to your chair and quickly hit the audio lure button, playing laughter through one of the speakers in the furthest room. He closed his mouth and turned his head towards the sound, immediately limping away.

‘Wow..at least I know I won’t be alone.’

Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm (ooh-ooh-ooh) Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm (ooh-ooh-ooh)

Another night here.

Another night of those “phantoms” of past animatronics. More were showing up on the cameras, and even right inside your office.

They couldn’t physically harm you, yet they were able to affect your reality by creating errors in the systems. You stopped trying to make sense of things long ago and eventually figured out their routine--ignoring them or changing the cameras seemed to do the trick.

“Phone Dude” didn’t leave you a message tonight. Instead, you were left with old training tapes regarding the springlock suits.

Those certainly sounded familiar.

You kept thinking of that rabbit you saw, wondering if he was the result of the “grotesque maiming” the tapes mentioned.

So when 6 AM arrived, you stayed in your office for a bit longer, fast-forwarding, skipping, and rewinding each tape, listening to them all until-

“Management has been made aware that the Springbonnie animatronic has been noticeably moved, and would like to remind employees that this costume is not safe to wear under any circumstances.”

Then you finally realized who that was.

Not just any Bonnie character but...

“Springbonnie..that was really him-?!”

“L...Little bunny..?”

The raspy voice made you nearly jump out of your skin, and you saw the rabbit leaning into your office. He was breathing slow, each breath sounding painful, but he limped inside and stood there, allowing you to see him in full.

Although any sane person would scream and run at the sight of him, all you could see in that moment was your dear friend. Your favorite animatronic from your childhood.

His zombified appearance and the flesh infused in him didn’t make you adore him any less.

In the end, you still saw that same golden bunny who sang you songs and offered the best hugs.

“Springy, my friend.” You smiled warmly, standing up. “It’s good to see you again. I missed you a lot.”

#clanask #anonymous #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf 4 #fnaf 3 #springbonnie #springtrap #platonic #angst #tw death #tw body horror #songfic

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