#cosmickid

[emocow0]

[pixel-profit]

✨ Fairytale Kids Yoga Bundle – Magical Yoga Adventures for Little Ones! ✨

Bring classic fairytales to life with yoga! This Fairytale Kids Yoga Bundle includes three beloved stories transformed into fun, engaging yoga scripts for kids ages 2-4. Perfect for teachers, parents, and yoga instructors!

📖 Stories Included: 🧸 Goldilocks and the Three Bears 🐷 Three Little Pigs 🧺 Little Red Riding Hood

Each script includes: ✅ Simple, kid-friendly yoga poses woven into the story ✅ Easy-to-follow instructions with highlighted pose cues ✅ A handy pose reference list for smooth teaching

[max--phillips]

you are so fucking real for the meletonine i take it every night and im O U T

YEAH since i take adderall and continue to drink caffeine on top of that my body is like ??? about actually falling asleep but you know what does it every time? 12 mg of melatonin 😬 (yes I know that’s a lot but I tried smaller doses first ofc and they . Did not lmao)

[toxicanonymity]

Yesss!!! Thank you, Roman! I love it! And ty for raising funds for our friends with housing needs🖤🏳️‍🌈

Arms Wide Open

Tommy Miller x Jesse

Main Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist

Summary: A few months into hooking up with Jesse, Tommy starts noticing some changes in his bodu

Warnings: Mpreg, gay sex!!! Creed song reference warning (too late, you already read it!!), mentions of Joel going golfing, cumflation, too much cum talk :\ cummy in his tummy. Just to be clear Jesse got Tommy pregnant. You can think of Tommy as trans or think of it as a regular mpreg. Just don't think too hard okay?

🌟This is the fic I'll have to answer St. Peter about at the gates of heaven🌟

Written for my dearest @toxicanonymity for my fandom fundraiser for lgbt housing! still 4 days to make a donation and get a drabble! This ended up being more than a drabble LOL but Tox made a generous donation so it fits. She asked for mpreg or cumflation. I gave both.

In the words of Chapple Roan, "God, what have you done"

800 words

🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽🫃🏽

Joel would have killed him. His dad would have beat him senseless.

Both of them are gone now, so what does it really matter?

It started as comfort. After Joel died, Jesse had been helping more with the construction as they rebuilt the town together. More and more, Jesse had been being primed to take Maria’s place. Tommy thought it was an awful lot of responsibility for a man just barely out of his 20’s, but where had Tommy been at his age? Fighting a useless war he’s been brainwashed into thinking was for the country's freedom. Where was that country now?

“When the rich wage war, it’s the poor who die”

Time spent together working turned into late hours alone in the shop drinking. Tommy had felt bad leaning so much on someone so young for support, but Joel’s death took a toll. Tommy couldn’t even properly grieve. Too many responsibilities. So, he shoved it down like he did everything from the war, everything from the fireflies, everything he and Joel had done together in those wilderness years.

How could he have left Joel alone? He’d give anything for the months of time he lost. They were all each other ever had their whole lives. 

All this was dumped on Jesse in those long nights tucked away, spring slowly coming back into their world as a new day dawned. And it was definitely slow. It was Wyoming after all. As winter changed to spring, so did their conversations. Less and less it was about Tommy’s anguish, but more mutual, more conversive. They sat closer together, and the drinking became less. Tommy found beers getting warm as they engrossed in conversation.

Then the source of his guilt changed. It was no longer about relying on a man 30 years his junior; is was guilt that he let that man bend him over a table and fuck him.

Tommy thinks he can pinpoint the night it happened. That would be important, for the doctors. Seeming no refractory period, Jesse and his time together had went from a quick fuck to blow off steam to Jesse laying him down on ever surface in the workshop and filling him over, and over again. Loads of cum were pumped into his body, and just as Tommy’s belly bloated as Jesse filled him, his back on the table and knees bent, Jesse would suck his cock until he was twitching and moaning, fingers shoved up his ass. Then, ready to go again, Jesse pulled him off the table and onto the dirty floor for yet another round.

Tommy always had liked it like this, rough, dominated, but with tender touch and lots of kisses. He loved kissing, the sap that he was. Face down, Jesse’s firm, strong body pressed against his; his face was tucked into his neck as hot breath and heavy grunts fluttered around Tommy’s face. Tommy had smiled against Jesse’s cheek when he came untouched, bare cock against the floor. When Jesse came in him again, their fingers were interlaced together.

They had laid there on the ground for a while. Tommy had turned over onto his back to pull Jesse close to him. His stomach was full and protruding from Jesse’s cum inside him. He liked the feeling, the vulnerability of being laid bare with his hole leaking.

Neither had gone home that night. When someone knocked on the locked door, trying to get in, the pair had scrambled to get dressed and act like they had gotten in early. The whole conversation, Tommy had to act normal as Jesse’s seed trickled down his leg.

He remembers that feeling of being full; full of his cock, full of his cum.

Now, as Tommy looks in the mirror, he feels that same fullness. A fullness that didn’t ease, only grew. Hand on his stomach, Tommy felt the small bump. He was pregnant.

*

“You’re acting kind of weird.” Jesse comments, sliding Tommy a drink but he doesn’t take it.

Tommy swallows hard. He has to tell him now. He’ll suspect something is up soon enough, best to rip the bandaid off.

“I’m pregnant, Jesse.”

There was a beat of silence, Jesse staring at him from across the work table they’d violated countless times. Joel used to work here a lot. He was good at what he did, putting in long hours with care to make the town come together. He’d never meet his niece or nephew.

Jesse set down his drink, eyes boring into Tommy’s as the news processed.

“Pregnant?”

Tommy waited, braced for Jesse to ask if it was his, or even insist it wasn’t. They never said they were exclusive. They never named what this was. But Jesse didn’t. When Tommy nodded, lips still pursed together waiting for the worst. Instead, Jesse swiftly moved around the table, his normally fluid and confident motions clunky. His hip hit the table corner but he didn’t stop as he ran to embrace Tommy, the force of his hug making the broad man stumble.

Jesse kissed him with all the passion he had the night they’d conceived their child. “We’re gonna figure this out. All of us.”

****************************

I'd ask for forgivness but Im not sorry. We need more mpreg. The internet has lost its ways.... back in my day you could be reading a standard avengers fic and BOOM thor got loki pregnant. Now we've lost the old ways!!!

anyway tagging my regulars.... sorry guys

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @pedge-page @sunshineispunk @miraclesabound and tagging @beefrobeefcal bc you said you liked mpreg once lol

[hazycosmicchild]

And just like that the second Cosmic Child is two today. Happy birthday Teddy!

[toxicanonymity]

double play

Tommy and Joel Miller x f!reader, 500 words

WARNINGS: 18+ PIV, degradation, incest via double vaginal penetration, infidelity

You were riding Tommy on the sofa when the truck came rattling down the road. Most of your encounters took place at Joel’s house, since Tommy had a family. Joel pulled into the driveway, and Tommy gritted his teeth with a sharper thrust. His big hands tightened on your hips. When the truck door closed outside, Tommy's cock twitched, and he let out a low moan. Bouncing on his cock, you cooed, "Gonna cum, baby?"

His tongue was pressing hard against his molars to stay in control.

"Gonna fill me up?" You asked.

"Shut the fuck up," he snapped, and his hands forced you to be still on his raging hard cock.

Joel came in, and Tommy's jugular vein was pulsing fast under a cold sweat. "Get in here," Tommy demanded of him.

Joel rubbed his hand over his jeans, and said "Afternoon to you, too..."

"Get the fuck in here,” Tommy repeated.

"Coulda got ready on the drive if I knew ya were here. Damn.”

You rocked yourself on Tommy's cock, and he warned under his breath, "if you don't sit still, god damnit..."

"She's a cumslut, Tommy. What the hell do you expect?" Joel lubed up his thickening cock, pumping it quickly.

"Already made her cum," Tommy complained. Joel explained, "A real cumslut is all about gettin' filled up. Ain't that right, doll face?" Joel's free hand groped your tits from behind.

-

Once you and Tommy were laid on the couch and Joel was all ready, Joel straddled Tommy's legs and examined your hole, finding it full of Tommy's cock and dripping with arousal. Joel wedged his fingers in, and a growl left his chest. He placed his hand over Tommy's balls at the base of Tommy's shaft. Joel held Tommy's cock in place that way while Tommy helped spread your thighs. When Joel's tip hit your clit, you whimpered. Then the spongy head dragged down to your already full hole, and prodded to be let in.

Joel used his thumb to force himself in, still not fully erect. Tommy was holding his breath. Joel's shaft quickly thickened as he pushed into you with a grunt.

Tommy let out a sigh of pleasure, and his chest deflated under yours.

Joel pulled back a couple inches then thrust forward, his big cock plowing its way between Tommy's shaft and your stretched walls. Tommy groaned, and his balls tightened, then his shaft twitched, and he erupted, shoving himself deeper into you, packing you tighter as his cum coated your walls and Joel's cock. Joel fucked you through it and Tommy shuddered with the extra stimulation as his balls were drained.

As Tommy finished coming, Joel said, “That ain't enough for this cum dumpster… is it, doll?” He fucked you even as Tommy's spent cock lie drained in your hole. “God Almighty, this slut is one of a kind,” Joel breathed as he fucked you.

“Fuck,” Tommy moaned.

“Couldn't quit this if ya wanted,” Joel taunted him. “Never gonna find one like this again.”

-

-

-

cc: @iamasaddie , @cosmickid-inmotion @lunarlilith

Joel x Reader x Tommy Masterlist

Thank you for reading 🖤

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Steven acting all smug with Marc and Jake because the other night it accidentally escaped your lips that he was the best sex you ever had.

👀👀👀👀👀 just a thought you can do with it as you please

I AM WHEEZING AT THIS!!

The Title

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Steven is apparently the best.

Warnings: Kissing, pet names, innuendo, sex mentions, bickering, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 315

“Shut the fuck up Steven.” Marc practically growls

Steven smiles at his reflection, raising his eyebrows as he brushes his hair. “I didn’t say anything, mate.” 

“You were going to.” 

Steven scoffs, but can’t hide how his grin widens. “I wasn’t.” 

“You fucking were.” 

“Being a bit sore today, aren’t we, Marc? Yes.” Steven taps the mirror with the end of his brush. 

“You’re the one fucking swanning about and rubbing it in!”

“I’m doing no such thing, you’re being paranoid. Silly even.” Steven beams at him, definitely rubbing it in. 

“Steven-”

“Best sex they’ve ever had, you know?” He gives Marc a little cheeky glance, waiting until Marc’s eyebrow furrows in a scowl before he mouths ‘best’ again. 

“Fuck off.”

Steven chuckles. 

“No, literally,” Marc sticks his middle fingers up. “Fuck off.”

“Best.”

“Fuck-”

“As in, better than anyone else.”

“-Off.”

“Which includes you.”

“Fuck-”

The sound of you coming in the front door echoes loudly, snapping at Marc’s and Steven���s attention. 

Steven goes to call out, and at the same moment, Marc tries to force himself to the front. For a brief moment, they both shove at each other, speaking rapidly so that neither can really hear what the other is saying. 

In the hasty chaos, Jake silently slips forward. He fronts so gently that neither Steven nor Marc notices until they hear his voice coming from their lips. 

“Hello, amor,” he smiles as he greets you, kissing your cheek. 

“Hello, Jake.” You beam, giggling as he helps you out of your jacket and lightly kisses your neck. “What’s got into you?” 

“Well, Steven has been regaling us with tales of last night.” 

You pause, heat running along your skin. “I…” 

“Apparently, he’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” He gives you a cheeky smile and raises his eyebrow. “I was wondering if you’d care to give me a shot at the title?” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @lonelyisamyw-0love @cosmickid-inmotion  

@steven-grants-world  @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine  @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87

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@alwaysmicado @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @hammerhead96  @mylittledelulucorner

@queerly-anxious  @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp  @eternallyvenus @lounilu 

@pigeonmama @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @sub-aro @faretheeoscar

 @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard @ominoose @ierofrnkk

@have-you-seen-my-sanity @missdictatorme @musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @lemonzestinmydrink

 @sonotpractical @junggoku @julesonrecord @heavydirtysoulsblog @kristinaluvsherr

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary: Ch. 13 - Reconciled

Joel tries to move on. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 12 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Remembered aftermath of a suicide attempt, mild violence, angst. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 11.5k

A/N: Special shout out to @cosmickid-inmotion who shares my vision of a Bruce Springsteen loving Joel.

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter

October 5, 2019  

“Joel!” 

He could hear his brother’s voice but he sounded so far away, wet and waterlogged. 

Joel felt like he was floating. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened or even exactly where he was. There was something bright in front of him but it was blurry and the whiteness was tinged with glistening red. 

“Fuck, fuck!” 

He was moving then. Not of his own accord - he wasn’t entirely sure he could do that - but there were hands on him, pushing him from his side and onto his back. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel, what’d you do?” 

He wasn’t sure how long he was lying there but he heard Tommy call 9-1-1, say he found his brother with a gunshot wound to the head but that he was alive and seemingly conscious. Joel remembered more then, how he’d put the gun to his head, how he’d been ready to die, how he’d pulled the trigger, how he’d had a moment - the briefest flash of time - where something primal and basic within him took over and he flinched away from that welcome end. 

In all honesty, Joel wasn’t sure how he managed to bullshit his way out of getting locked in a fucking psych ward. He supposed it was a combination of things - shit insurance that wouldn’t pay for that sort of thing so the hospital didn’t want to waste the money, the fact that the shot had been so far off that it hadn’t done any permanent damage beyond a scar so his lie about cleaning his gun was just as reasonable as trying to blow his brain out, Tommy insisting that his brother would never do something like kill himself but he would keep an eye on him, anyway, just to be safe - but he left the hospital just a few hours after he put the gun to his head in the first place. 

“I’ll bring the car around,” Tommy said, leaving Joel standing there clutching the plastic bag that held the bloodied shirt he’d worn to bury his daughter. “Get you home.” 

Joel let his little brother take him home. Let him drive, let him watch him like a hawk, let him beg to understand what he’d been thinking that dark day. 

“Nothin’,” Joel shrugged for the thousandth time, staring down at his hand clenched in a fist on the scratched wood of Tommy’s kitchen table. “Wasn’t thinking anything. Just an accident, told you.” 

Eventually, Tommy stopped looking at him like he was a bomb that was about to explode. Instead, he took on the role that Joel had always held in their relationship. He got them hired on jobs, made sure there was food in the house - even if it was just canned bullshit - and kept an eye on Joel to make sure that, whatever he did, it didn’t cause permanent damage. It was unsettling, knowing what his little brother was doing for him. Joel lived with what seemed like a permanent stomach ache, this disquieting hurt that was so small he couldn’t say anything about it but so persistent he couldn’t help but be aware of the nagging pull. 

It was that ache that made him throw the first punch. 

He was out at a bar, Tommy chatting up some girl while Joel drank himself into oblivion, when some asshole a few stools down staggered to his feet, fumbling with his keys as he did. Joel frowned, sitting up a little as he watched the guy stumble back from the bar. 

“Hey man,” the bartender wrapped his knuckles on the bar in front of him. “Can’t let you leave like that. Sit down, I’ll call you a cab.” 

“Nah, s’fine,” the man waved him off, slurring and swaying as he did. “Gotta get my truck home, m’good to… to… to drive.” 

“No, you’re not,” the bartender said, voice sharp. “Sit. Down.” 

“See you later,” he waved, ignoring him and staggering toward the door. 

Joel felt it then, the same burning rage he felt the night he’d found out that he’d probably never know who killed his daughter, when his skin was still sticky with her blood and the police had already given up. It had been someone like this man who’d done it, some fucker who didn’t give a shit about anybody else, who hit Sarah and left her bleeding and dying in the street. 

He moved without really thinking about it, bar stool wobbling in his wake, and grabbed the man by the shoulder, ripping him around to face him. He looked surprised for a moment, blinking in shock, before his eyes narrowed. 

“The fuck is your problem?” He said, more sure-footed and coherent than he’d been in the last few minutes. He gave Joel a small, half-hearted shove. 

“My problem,” Joel spat, shoving the man back far harder. “Is assholes like you-“ another shove “-who got no problem gettin’ people killed-“ another shove “-so you can get fuckin’ drunk.” 

“He’s right, George,” the bartender said, coming out from behind the bar. “Why don’t you sit down, let me call you a cab, c’mon.” 

“You really sidin’ with this jackass?” The man - George - said. “You know I’m good to drive! It ain’t…” 

Joel didn’t give him a chance to finish. Instead, he hit him, his fist catching him on the jaw and sending the man sprawling to the ground. 

That should have been enough. Once upon a time, it would have been enough for Joel. Back when he was someone who didn’t want to hurt people, in a time where he had it in him to give someone the benefit of the doubt, it would have been plenty. 

But now, all Joel saw at his mercy wasn’t just a man who would have left his daughter bleeding in the road but one who had and it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough. 

Joel more fell on the man than anything else, his limbs feeling out of sync in a way that only alcohol could bring but that just pissed him off more. How could someone drive like this? How could someone be this reckless? 

He took it out on the man, landing blow after clumsy blow as he cried below him and Joel couldn’t seem to catch his breath or make his heart stop racing and he couldn’t stop hitting him even though it hurt and even though he could hear people screaming he couldn’t stop it. 

Joel wasn’t sure how long he beat the man before Tommy caught his fist as he wound back to swing again, throwing him off balance enough that he had to stop to catch himself. 

“Joel!” Tommy yelled, ripping him away from the man on the ground. “That’s enough!” 

Tommy held him back as he panted for breath, his knuckles aching and his chest tight and he looked at the man for what felt like the first time. He was bleeding, a rattle in his lungs, his hands shaking as he lay flat on his back. Joel looked down at his hands. They were bloody, too, skin on his knuckles split and angry and raw. 

“Get him outta here,” the bartender said to Tommy, phone pressed to his ear. 

“C’mon,” Tommy said, pulling Joel to his feet and leading him quickly, surely to the door before guiding him to his truck. 

They were half way to Joel’s before he said anything else. 

“The fuck was that, man?” He asked. Joel felt him glance his way but he couldn’t bring himself to look at him. 

“I dunno,” Joel said, his voice cracking. He couldn’t seem to stop staring at his hands, at how they were bloody like they’d been that night. He couldn’t stop shaking. “I… I just…” 

Tommy was silent, the quiet heavy against the sound of the engine. 

“You’re not alone,” he said eventually. “You can stay with me for a while, til shit is… I dunno. But I’ve got you. You’re gonna be OK.” 

Joel didn’t say anything. He just stared at his bloody hand and tried to ignore the nauseating twist of his stomach when he wondered what their mother would think about Joel failing at taking care of his little brother like she’d asked him to do on her death bed and Tommy took them both home.

January 5, 2025

It was an act of self flagellation, watching the TV. 

Joel knew that, he did. But the Golden Globes were on in his living room, anyway. 

He’d turned it on at the start of the red carpet coverage and told himself that it was because it was the smart thing to do. One of his colleagues was there working, after all. If something happened - a thought that made his heart stutter in his chest - it could be helpful if he saw it in real time. 

But that wasn’t why he did it. And he knew that, too. 

No, he did it because he couldn’t bear not to. You would be there and he was powerless when it came to you. You had proven that time and time again. You kept proving it, even after you were gone.

When he first came home after you gutted him in front of your house, he did what he almost never did: He went to Sarah’s room. 

He was unsure why he was drawn there at first, unsure enough that he hesitated, his hand on the knob, feeling like it was a violation to enter such a sacred space without good reason but the pull was too strong and he gave in. 

Joel stood beside his daughter’s bed, like he always did at first, and took in everything. Little pieces of his daughter what would be lost to time if he weren’t here to memorize them, like the way she liked to loop hair ties together before abandoning them or the fact that her bookshelf didn’t look organized at all but he knew that it was because she kept her favorites near the beanbag chair so she could reach out and grab one whenever she wanted. Her clothes and her nail polish and her books and her stickers and her posters, too. 

The poster of you. 

You watched him with those sad eyes, ones that were so familiar to him now. He thought your eyes looked like that - sad and longing in some way - when you’d told him to never come back but maybe he was imagining things just so he could pretend he’d meant something to you. 

Not that it mattered now. 

Because being here, in Sarah’s space and looking in your eyes, he knew he’d done the right thing. 

Losing his daughter had all but killed him. In a kinder, fairer world, it would have. But he had somehow survived and been left here, haunted by her in everything and he knew - viscerally, painfully - that he could not do this again. 

He wasn’t sure that anything could be as painful as losing Sarah but he knew that losing you would come close. He couldn’t go through this again, not even for a minute, not even for however long it took for him to put a gun to his head and get it fucking right this time. It seemed like it shouldn’t be possible to ask one person to lose that much, as though some law of physics should protect you because the pain of losing you after losing her couldn’t be contained within him. 

The only thing he could do was leave you. He cared too much, he couldn’t protect you properly. He would constantly be distracted by your eyes and your smile and the softness of your skin and the taste of your mouth. It was disaster waiting to happen. He had to leave you, he had no other choice. 

He lasted about a day before he started looking you up online. He told himself it was because he needed to know how you were doing, if there were any updates in the case. It made sense, professionally speaking, for him to know what was going on with you. 

That was bullshit, of course. 

He knew it then, too. He knew he was watching for any news of you because he couldn’t stop himself, it was a compulsion, and for weeks he hoarded everything he could learn about you. 

It was almost entirely speculative. The basic statement that Quinn had given the press was repeated over and over again. You weren’t in Hollywood and the press seemed to be respecting your request for privacy, no new pictures of you or Ellie in Austin popping up anywhere. You were nominated for a Golden Globe just a few days after the attack and, even as the ceremony got closer, no one in the press seemed to know for sure if you were going. 

Joel didn’t ask about it at work. Tommy made him take time off but he was eager to get back to normal because he couldn’t bear to sit inside his tomb of a house without something to distract him for much longer. He saw Seth once, coming in for a debrief, and Joel listened in for a moment. The report was short, nothing had changed. He tried to take comfort in that. Nothing was good. Nothing meant you were safe - at least, relatively speaking. But it didn’t tell him anything about how you were. Were you jumpy or afraid after what happened? Did your laugh sound the same? Did your smile reach your eyes? Did you pace the halls of your large house in the night because you couldn’t sleep? He didn’t know and he couldn’t ask. 

He was relieved when he learned that you’d be going to California. Not because he wanted you to go to fucking California but because he was sure that he’d get some glimpse of you then and he was right. 

You popped up on Twitter first, someone spotting you at the airport and posting a blurry photo taken too far away. You had a bag over your shoulder and you had your baseball cap on like you always did. Seth was walking alongside you, his arm around your shoulders as he guided you to security. 

Joel refreshed things almost constantly then. It wasn’t long before pictures of you on the flight cropped up. You posing with fans, you pressed back into your seat on the plane in a photo he could tell you didn’t know was being taken, looking like you hoped the chair was going to swallow you.  

You disappeared again once you got through the crush of paparazzi at LAX and Joel looked at every single photo, examining your short walk from the terminal to the waiting SUV from every possible angle. You kept your head down, sunglasses on, baseball cap tugged low over your face. His heart stuttered when he realized it was the hat he’d gotten for you but then, you’d probably grabbed it without thinking. He knew you’d never have picked it on purpose.

Last night was nothing. You’re nothing.

He went back to the photos of the flight after it was clear there was nothing new coming out about you after you left the airport. You smiled for pictures with fans but it didn’t reach your eyes. It reminded him of that poster in Sarah’s room, some lingering sadness - or was it more emptiness? - in your gaze that made his chest get tight. 

What if you weren’t OK after the attack? What if you were afraid all the time? Was there anyone you could actually turn to or were you too busy trying to take care of everyone else around you to ask for help if you needed it? Because, when he thought about it for even a second, he knew that’s what you’d do. You’d put Ellie first, then Elise, then Esmo, then the people working on Savage Starlight, then then then. Anyone but yourself and you’d be alone in it. It wasn’t good to be alone in those things. He knew that better than anyone. 

So, by the night of the Globes, he was desperate. He needed to see you again, for more than a a second of you posing with someone in a situation that he knew was awkward. He turned on the red carpet coverage the moment it started even though he knew you wouldn’t show up until the end of it. He’d learned, guarding you, that there was a hierarchy in Hollywood and you were at the top of it. You were the biggest name, the most beautiful woman, the brightest star. Anyone walking the carpet after you would pale in comparison and everyone knew it. You were the grand finale of every event you attended and he had hours of watching other stars and the commentators speculating on winners and outfits and the rest of awards season to get through before he’d get to catch a glimpse of you. 

It lasted a small eternity, Joel keeping himself busy with things that had long needed doing around his house that he’d let lapse in the last month while the red carpet coverage played in the background. He wiped away the sticky rings of coffee stains from his counters while some actress he didn’t recognize made bullshit small talk with the reporter and cleared dust from the half empty shelves by his TV as two commentators made stupid, punny jokes back and forth that he knew Ellie would love and he tried to shove the emptiness at her loss down deep inside him, too. He was sewing a button back on a shirt that had been lying neglected on his dresser for months when he finally heard your name and he dropped the shirt without thinking, the plaid flannel laying in a heap at his feet as he watched Chris fucking Reese help you out of the back of a limo before tugging you against his side. 

The camera on you was too far away - from some high vantage point, watching the arrivals on the carpet - so he couldn’t tell if the smile on your face as you waved to fans was genuine but he could see you and fuck you were beautiful. 

Not that it was a surprise, you were a beautiful woman. The most beautiful woman, you were paid to be beautiful but it still caught him off guard sometimes. He’d become almost used to it in his time with you, the same way someone gets used to a stunning view outside their kitchen window, but it struck him like it was fresh now. You were stunning, even at a distance. Your gown looked like it was silk or satin - not that Joel knew fuck all about anything like that - and like it had be created to be worn by you and you alone. The fabric flowed over your body, moving with you as you turned to talk to people, and Joel resented your goddamn costar as his hand slipped down to the place at the small of your back where your impossibly soft skin - he didn’t think he’d ever forget just how soft you were - was bare and tempting. 

There was a little picture-in-picture view of you working your way up the carpet as the reporters talked to other stars Joel didn’t give a shit about. He just sat there, leaning forward on the edge of his couch like he was watching a damn playoffs game, taking in everything about you he could manage to find. 

Eventually, finally, mercifully, you made it to the reporter. Reese’s arm was securely around your waist and you were stunning with your makeup and hair done but something in Joel resented that, too. This was the first real look he’d gotten of you in more than a month and it was couched in all this artifice. You were beautiful but ethereal, so far out of his reach like this and he wanted to see you in a way that he had at least a hope of touching you. Not that he would ever be on your level but he wanted the dream of it. When you were like this, when he was robbed of the intimacy of seeing the tiny variations in your skin tone when flesh shifted over bone, you were too far. 

You smiled at the reporter and Joel thought it reached your eyes but it was hard to tell at this distance and he kept watching how your hand found Reese’s chest as you stood beside each other and the way you looked at him with a small, almost adoring smile on your lips while listening to him answer questions. It was all so distracting that he didn’t even notice that the scar was exposed on your chest until the reporter asked about it. 

Your mask slipped when she did, your face falling ever so slightly, your body shifting. You pressed yourself a little tighter to Reese, your arm dropping to your side. He watched as your fingers sank into your thigh enough that the fabric of the gown puckered and it was a little movement he knew so well, how you pushed against that spot on your leg when someone made you uncomfortable or you had to sit through some bullshit on behalf of the damn industry you worked in and he wanted to step in and help you, tell the reporter to get fucked but Reese did for him. 

“Now I know you’re not asking my costar questions just to make her uncomfortable,” he said, his grip on you tightening. “Because that would make you a jackass who’s shit at their job, wouldn’t it? You must have something in that research of yours that’s actually about the movie we’re nominated for tonight, yeah?” 

Joel smiled a little bit at that. At least you had someone in your corner, even if that someone looked too close and too comfortable for his liking. 

Now that he knew there was a chance at seeing you, Joel couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from the TV. He was sure it was because he was always watching for you but it seemed like the cameras always found you in the crowd, so often showing you clapping as someone else made their way to the stage or you taking a sip of champagne as you nodded along to something someone near you was saying as the broadcast went to commercial. He tried to memorize as much of you as he could in those scraps of moments, things he’d somehow forgotten in the month it had been since he’d last seen you in person. The arch of your neck, the precise way you used your hands when you talked, the tiniest purse to your lips you got when you were thinking of something very seriously. He needed to make sure he didn’t lose these things. He might have to share them with the world but he needed to have them for himself, too. He needed to be able to picture what things might have been like with you, in some other reality. One where Sarah was alive and you weren’t hunted by a psychopath, where the people he’d lost and the fame you’d earned weren’t what defined either of you. He wanted to pretend like he knew what it would be like to be in bed with you, to feel you laugh against him when he told a dumb joke or to have your fingers absently run through his hair enough that there was some familiar path they always took over his scalp. He was done caring whether or not it was smart or healthy to live in that other world sometimes, he just wanted to be granted access to that reality with these little glimpses he could stash away and keep close. 

When you won, Joel had barely moved in hours, not willing to step away even during commercial just in case they cut back to the theater to a shot of you there, smiling and laughing with your contemporaries. You looked shocked that they’d called your name even though there was no possible way it was a true surprise - Joel was almost embarrassed by how closely he’d been watching the predictions for who would win the major awards this year and you were at the top of almost every list - and you hugged and gave your costar a quick kiss before you looked at him a little longer and then the two of you kissed. Really, truly kissed. Joel’s stomach turned but he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the screen as he watched another man hold your face and taste your lips. It was like a train wreck, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from staring even as every fraction of a second felt like some new cut made on his heart. He knew it couldn’t have been long but it seemed like a small eternity when the two of you separated and Reese tugged you to your feet and helped you to the stage. 

You mercifully went up the steps to the microphone on your own and took the award in your hands, staring at it as the entire audience clapped and cheered for you before you finally looked at him. 

It wasn’t really at him, of course. It was to the crowd and the camera and the millions of other people watching at home but Joel let himself think you were looking at him, that he crossed your mind at all. 

There was something almost sad and lonely in your eyes as you held your trophy and, for half a second, Joel was reminded of the night he’d left you. But he put a stop to that thought quickly. You’d told him what you felt and it hadn’t been a lie. You were a great actress, he knew that, but even you couldn’t say something to his face with that much vitriol and have it be a lie. 

Maybe that should have poisoned something in him. Made it so he could stop thinking about you and caring about you but it hadn’t. Instead, it just felt true. Like you’d cracked him open and looked at the rotten core of him and known what he was good for and been done with it. How could he possibly blame you for seeing what he was? How could he blame you for excising him for it? 

He got to his feet as you finished your speech - he wasn’t sure why, it’s not like he could clap for you from here - and his socked foot found the needle from where he’d been mending the button before, his work long forgotten since you’d appeared. 

“Fuck!” He fell back onto the couch, pulling his injured foot into his lap. The needle was lodged deep into the sensitive skin of the arch and he looked back to the screen just in time to catch you making it off stage, the arm of the presenter around your shoulders as you looked at the golden statue in your hands, that same almost familiar look on your face as you did. The telecast cut to commercial and he sighed, looking back to his foot. He pulled the needle out slowly, carefully but it still stung and pulled at him, a little plume of blood blossoming on the white of his sock once it was free. 

He limped to the bathroom for a bandage before settling in on the couch again, shirt and needle safely on the coffee table this time, watching the rest of the broadcast and pouring himself a large glass of whisky. Before the final award of the night, it cut to commercial, camera focusing your table again as the emcee teased what was to come. You were drinking straight from a champagne bottle and Reese’s hand was planted firmly in the middle of your bare back, his grip so firm that Joel could tell that his fingers almost digging into your skin, even at a distance. He was smiling at someone on the other side of you but there was something off about it. Even from here, even though Joel didn’t know the man, he could tell there was something off. He just had no idea what it was. 

Your movie won best picture and Joel barely paid attention to the speech, watching as you stood next to Reese, you looking like you hadn’t won anything at all. Your face was blank, almost dead, and Joel frowned, leaning closer to the TV as though that would tell him something more. 

It didn’t. But it meant he was closer when Reese said something to you and you smiled a little at him before kissing him again, deep and desperate. 

“Fuck,” Joel said, a whisper this time, hanging his head before turning off the TV and going to bed, trying to keep that image from his mind as he passed out.

He was still asleep the next morning when the vibration of his cell phone woke him up. 

“Hold on,” he said when whoever was on the other end just started talking at him, wiping a hand down his face and picking up the watch you gave him from his nightstand to check the time. Just after 10 a.m., he’d slept in. “What?” 

“Joel,” Tommy said sharply, a layer of urgency in his voice that made him sit up, blankets settling around his hips as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. “Need you to tell me anywhere she might go.” 

“Who?” Joel said, trying to sift through the last few minutes in his head and see through the fog of his hangover. 

Tommy said your name and he froze. 

“What?” He whispered. 

“Siren,” Tommy said. “The woman you spent the last few months protecting, do you know where the fuck she might go if she took the fuck off?” 

“She’s missing?” Joel jumped out of bed, scrambling for something to put on. His head swam. “Since when? What the fuck happened, I thought Cook…” 

“He got her back to the hotel last night, guess they were out real late and she got pretty fucked up at some after party,” Tommy said. “Went back to that same hotel you were at with her last month. He says she went to bed, then he went to bed. He got up little while ago, didn’t hear anything from her room but figured she was still passed out, knocked on her door when breakfast was delivered and there was no answer. He went in, looks like she didn’t even sleep there. Her dress and jewelry from the night before were there, phone too, but she’s gone. He’s looked through the hotel, tried the room of that idiot she’s in the movie with but he wasn’t there, either…” 

“Fuck!” Joel grabbed a shirt from the floor, jeans, too. “I’m comin’ to the office, get me a plane ticket.” 

“Joel…” 

“If those fuckin’ idiots don’t know how to fuckin’ keep her safe then -”

“You asked me to take you off her case, Joel!” Tommy cut him off. “I called you because you were with her in LA for weeks, thought you might know some places she likes. Cook’s been there two goddamn days, he don’t know the place yet. There’s no sign of foul play, she probably just took off which she pulled on you at least once…” 

Joel just shook his head even though Tommy couldn’t see him. He’d never told his brother the truth of any of that, that you hadn’t just been some flighty, spoiled child, you’d been traumatized by the appearance of a man who’d abused you for years and had dealt with it in the only way you seemed to know how. 

“Was Henry Wilde at the awards last night?” Joel asked, getting into his truck. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Tommy said. “Why would I know what Hollywood muckety-mucks are at some goddamn award show?” 

“Call Quinn,” Joel said. “Find out if that asshole was there, they got… there’s some shit there, if he was there and said somethin’ to her, it might make her run off.” 

“Well,” Tommy said, his voice hesitant. 

“What.” 

“You watch the news today?” He asked. 

“No,” Joel said. “You fuckin’ woke me up, when the fuck would I’ve watched the damn news?” 

“There were some photos of her leaked last night,” he said. “During the ceremony.” 

“Photos?” Joel said. “What do you mean photos, she’s famous there are photos of her everywhere.” 

“Not photos like these there aren’t,” Tommy said darkly. “They’re from years ago, probably taken by some boyfriend or something…” 

Joel’s stomach turned. 

“Shit,” he said quietly. 

“She was pretty upset from what Seth said,” Tommy said. “When she went to bed, he said she seemed OK but… maybe she wasn’t.” 

“Shit,” Joel said quietly. “Alright… try the beach.” 

“The beach?” Tommy asked. 

“The beach,” Joel said. “Not sure which one but a quiet one, where she won’t run into a bunch of gawking tourists. She likes the water, said it’s comforting for her. She’d go to one near the hotel, whatever one’s real empty.” 

“Thank you,” Tommy said. “That helps, I’ll tell Cook.” 

“What if she didn’t just go,” Joel said, a tightness in chest that he couldn’t shake. “What if…” 

“There’s no indication it was her stalker,” Tommy cut him off. “I’m sure she’s fine, that she just took off on her own. There’s no reason to panic, Joel.” 

“I’m still coming to the office,” Joel said, tone sharp. “Because if she ain’t there, you need to send me to California.” 

Tommy sighed. 

“Just come in, Joel,” he said. “We’ll talk when you get here.” 

The office was surprisingly calm when Joel got there. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but, when the company’s highest profile and longest running contract was missing, he thought it would be louder, more chaotic, something to indicate that there was panic happening somewhere outside of himself but it was quiet. 

“Is anyone around here fuckin’ doing anything?” Joel snapped, not bothering to knock before entering his brother’s office. “Or are we just gonna fuckin’ stand around like nothin’s wrong?” 

“Nothing is wrong,” Tommy said, looking up from his computer. “Good to see you too, by the way.” 

Joel frowned. 

“The hell you mean nothing’s wrong.” 

“I mean, we found her,” he said, looking back at his laptop. “Not at the beach but she wasn’t far from one, at some diner with that dumbass costar of hers, surrounded by fuckin’ paparazzi.” 

“Thank God,” Joel said, all but collapsing into a seat opposite his brother. “She OK?” 

“Fine, from what Seth said,” Tommy replied. “Well, fine beyond the fact that it sure seems like she’s lost her damn mind but…” 

“What do you mean?” Joel frowned, sitting up a little straighter. 

“Seth found her, alright,” Tommy said. “But she was dressed in nothin’ but some giant souvenir t-shirt, she sat on the patio at some fuckin’ restaurant there like that and once the paparazzi heard, they were all over the damn place like flies on shit. I’m sure Quinn is having a fuckin’ field day…” 

“Christ,” Joel sighed, dragging a hand over his face like the gesture could somehow wipe away the morning. “How’s Ellie doin’ with… everything? You talked to Elise or Esmo at all since…” 

“Joel,” Tommy cut him off, his voice sharp. “You wanted off this case, remember?” 

He clenched his jaw and looked toward the ground but didn’t say anything. 

“Can’t have you goin’ on and off shit like this,” Tommy said. “I appreciate that you worked with her for a long time and that you got opinions. You’re one of our best guys and you know I care about you but that don’t mean you can just pick and choose what assignments you get based on what’s convenient -“ 

“That ain’t what this is,” Joel snapped, harsh. 

“It ain’t?” Tommy asked, brows raised. “Then tell me, what is it? Because this ain’t like you, Joel. One minute you are begging me to reassign you and now you’re fighting to come back. I got schedules set for the next few weeks, you’re with that oil exec next week, should be a nice, easy gig to ease you back into things and you’re telling me you’d rather work the job you were dyin’ to get out of a few weeks ago?” 

“Tommy…” 

“I need you to fucking talk to me,” he said, completely ignoring the computer now, all pretense gone. “This shit only works if you tell me what’s going on. I can’t just be stuck guessing, I can’t live with…” 

He trailed off, squaring his jaw and shaking his head, his hands clasped in front of him. 

“Live with what,” Joel said more than asked. His kid brother looked at him from across his desk, his eyes - so like their father’s - ranging over him in silent assessment. 

“I can’t live with not knowing what I’ll find if you don’t show up to work one day,” Tommy said quietly. “You scare the shit out of me sometimes, man. I can’t say I blame you for… for doin’ what you did after Sarah died. I thought I got it then but now that I got a kid of my own… Don’t know that I’d want to keep goin’ either. But it’s not just you in your life, Joel. You think if something happened to you that shit would just go on for me? Because it wouldn’t. Just the the thought of finding you like that again…” 

“M’sorry,” Joel muttered, not really able to look at his brother but not really able to look away either. “I… I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you…” 

“I know,” Tommy said. “But Joel… Look. For a long time, seemed like… well, seemed like part of you was gone. And then you started working that job and… Sure, there were some rough patches at first but from the start, you gave a shit. I could see it. Hell, Maria could, too. For a little while, it was like I got my brother back, at least a bit. I ain’t seen you care about anything in years, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you care about anything that wasn’t Sarah or Benji as much as you seem to care about them so you can’t just ask me to put you back on that job when I know what it could do to you. I’m not sure what it is about them that did it. Fuck, maybe it’s not even them, maybe it’s just that enough time has passed and you’ve been able to heal and they were just close by when you did, I don’t fucking know, but I am not going to find you like that again, Joel. I’m not, end of story.” 

Joel just clenched his jaw, not sure if he should apologize to Tommy for everything he’d put him through when he was supposed to be the responsible one or try to fight for what he was asking for. 

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about putting you on any job right now,” Tommy continued eventually. “That’s why I set you for the CEO gig. It’s a short job, the guy’s a jackass, don’t think there’s much risk of you gettin’… attached.” 

Joel snorted at that and Tommy smiled a little before he sighed. 

“Do you really want back on that assignment?” He asked. “Because…” 

“No,” Joel said, his heart beating faster at just the thought of being the person responsible for protecting you again, at what it would mean if he failed you. “Not… not all the way. But… I got to know the kid - Ellie - and she’s… I know ‘er. Don’t seem right for her to be going through this shit with someone she don’t know.” 

“What’s she goin’ through exactly?” Tommy asked, brows raised. 

“She had some issues at school few months back,” Joel said. “Bullies picking on her for what her aunt does for work. Can’t imagine they’re being nice right now if… if there are those photos floating around out there. She’s a good kid. Been through a lot as it is. Lemme just… I’ll look after her, when… when she’s -“ he couldn’t bring himself to say your name “- in LA, I can take her to and from school, stay with her at home, just keep an eye on things. I won’t be the one doing any of the travel and I won’t work with… with her. Just the kid.” 

Tommy’s brows drew closer together for a second as he considered Joel and Joel felt a little like he was at the principal’s office after getting in trouble as a kid, like he was waiting to find out if he got to go back to class or if he was going to be barred from the life he led alongside his classmates. 

“Fine,” Tommy said eventually. “You can pick the kid up from school today and take over then, I’ll make some calls. You go home and pack a bag.”

“Thank you,” Joel said, trying to ignore just how overwhelming the relief in him was.

“Welcome,” Tommy said, turning back to his computer again and Joel took that as his cue to leave, getting to his feet and heading for the door when his brother stopped him. “Joel?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I meant what I said,” he said. “I ain’t finding you like that again. It seems like you’re losing yourself? I’m pulling you out. We clear?” 

“We’re clear,” Joel said. 

Tommy gave him a nod and went back to whatever was on his computer screen and Joel headed back to his truck, a bubble of anticipation in his chest when he thought about the fact that he would get to see Ellie again in a few hours. 

He packed a bag quickly when he got home and then found himself with nothing to keep him busy, his mind stuck on what Tommy had told him before about the pictures of you, both the ones from the night before and the ones from this morning. 

The ones from today particularly bothered him. It just didn’t seem like you. Removing yourself from a place that distressed you made sense, but wandering around half naked? Trying to attract the attention of the paparazzi? It was like a caricature of you, of what someone thought a famous movie star should be. 

He tried to distract himself for a while, tried to do anything to keep himself from Googling your name - as if he had any claim to you and your welfare at all, as if he actually knew you well enough to know that this was strange for you - but, before too long, he caved. 

Joel sat at his computer for this. It seemed like it was more professional that way, as though he was doing research and not doing this because he cared. The desktop was a relic, rarely used anymore. He’d bought it when Sarah was in middle school so she could type out her reports and look things up and not be behind the closed doors of her bedroom when she did it. He’d never bothered to update the thing and it took an almost agonizingly long time to boot up. He bounced his leg impatiently, some distant part of himself trying to talk himself out of looking the pictures up, some last-ditch effort to give you the distance you so desperately wanted from him, but then the welcome screen popped up and he froze. 

There were two user profiles on the computer, one for him and one for Sarah. He’d been expecting that, he wasn’t about to remove hers and he’d set hers up with all the parental controls that would keep her from stumbling onto things she had no business seeing as a kid. He’d just forgotten the photo she’d chosen for her profile. 

Next to his icon - a guitar - was a small, close-up photo of you from Siren. 

Joel just looked at you for a moment, the cursor hovering just outside the frame of your image. Even in that small place, even as an old picture, he had this strange drive to protect you. He owed you that. He owed Sarah that, too. She’d loved you, without even actually knowing you she’d loved you. Even if you didn’t want it, he had to take care of you for both your sakes. Even if it hurt, even if it killed him, he’d take care of you. 

He logged into his account and, after a minute of mechanical creaking, went to the browser, typing your name into the search engine. 

The first thing to pop up was something from TMZ, the headline blaring “WINNING TOP PRIZE, LOSING HER PANTS!” Joel clenched his jaw but clicked anyway and the picture was right at the top. 

You were coming out of some stylish restaurant in LA and you, indeed, had lost your pants. Your hand was tightly in Reese’s and you were in a t-shirt that had to be four sizes too big for you, the words Los Angeles emblazoned across your chest, men’s sunglasses on your face and a pair of cheap flip flops on your feet. Otherwise, from what Joel could tell, you weren’t wearing anything at all. 

“Jesus,” he muttered to himself, scrolling to see if he could find more pictures, ones where he might be able to get a clearer look at your face. 

He started reading the story that went with the photos more by accident than anything else. 

The Golden Girl from the Golden Globes was apparently ready to party the night away long after leaving the post-award celebrations. The Best Actress winner stepped out with co-star and fellow awardee Chris Reese early this morning looking like they’d just come in from a roll in the hay - or maybe just a day at the beach! Sparks flew on screen and now it sure seems like they’re flying off screen, too.

They captured you from every angle in the photos and, before too long, Joel made it to the bottom of the story where there was a link to another story, this headline all but screaming your name followed by NUDE PHOTOS LEAKED FROM ACTRESS’S WILD CHILD YEARS! 

Joel’s stomach twisted and he tried to resist clicking the link, he really, truly did. But it was a compulsion. It wasn’t that he wanted to see you naked - especially not when he knew these were pictures you wouldn’t want him to see - but he needed to know the things that hurt you. He couldn’t protect you from what he didn’t know and he needed to protect you. 

The pictures were censored - something he was thankful for - but even with the pixelation, looking at you here made his skin crawl. You were young, disturbingly so, maybe even younger than you’d been when you made The District. There was something in your eyes that made him wonder how much say you’d really had in taking these photos. He couldn’t help but think about what you’d told him about that fucking producer. These pictures had to be from that time - you were so young that they couldn’t have been from after - and he knew that, even if you’d agreed to taking them, it couldn’t have been willing, not really. You’d been forced into this when you were a fucking teenager and now they were out in the world for anyone to see. 

No wonder you’d taken off. 

“Christ,” Joel sighed, cradling his face in his hand. 

He remembered, without meaning to, how you’d clung to him the night he’d let you get hurt. He’d been able to take care of you then, before he’d fucked it all up. He was too far away to take care of you now. 

He turned off the computer, not willing to let himself sink any further into the hole he was digging himself, and it was a relief when he could finally get in his truck to go pick up Ellie. 

Joel got to the school before it was done for the day, one of the first cars in line for pickup but he didn’t mind. It at least let him feel like he was doing something and that, at least, was better than the fuck all he’d done for the last month. 

When the first students started leaving the building, he got out of the truck and leaned against the side of it, watching until he caught a glimpse of Ellie coming outside, walking alongside a girl who looked a little familiar. It took Joel a second to place her but then he realized she was the girl Ellie had made a TikTok with last fall, the one that you’d shown him after he filmed the one of you and Tanya in LA. 

Ellie noticed him then, freezing on the steps for a moment before narrowing her eyes at him, leaving her friend’s side and stalking to the truck. 

“Well would you look who it is,” she said, squaring her jaw and planting her feet. “Big Asshole - sorry, Big Miller - back again.” 

“Hey kiddo,” Joel said. “It’s good to see ya.” 

She scoffed.

“Wow,” she said. “And here I thought you might be a better liar the next time I saw you.” 

“Ain’t a lie,” Joel said. “It’s real good to see you. Missed you the last few weeks.” 

“Oh right,” she said. “Because you care about me so much, that’s why you decided to ditch me without even bothering to say goodbye.” 

“Look,” he said. “I’m sure you’re real upset with me, I don’t blame you. But let’s get you outta here and you can tell me how bad I fucked up once we’re home, alright?” 

She narrowed her eyes again almost like she was waiting for him to up and leave but, when he didn’t, she shrugged out of her backpack and shoved it into his arms. 

“Then let’s go.” 

They were silent for the first part of the drive, Ellie’s backpack and Joel’s duffle sitting in between them. 

“So,” she said eventually, kicking the duffle lightly with one foot. “This mean you’re sticking around? Or was I just a quick errand on your way to some other job.” 

“I’ll be lookin’ after you while your aunt is in LA,” Joel said. “At least for now.” 

“Lucky me,” she muttered, shaking her head a little before staring out the window. 

Joel drove in silence, glancing over at Ellie who seemed to want to look anywhere but at him. 

Eventually, when he was getting close to the house, he couldn’t take the quiet anymore. 

“Look,” he said. “I’m sure you’re real upset with me…” 

“You think?” She snapped, leveling him with a glare. 

“And you got every reason to be,” he continued, ignoring her. “But…” 

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” she said, a twinge of real hurt in her voice. “You just fucking left.” 

Joel sighed. 

“You’re right,” he said as he came up to your gate and checked a text from Tommy to get the updated code before punching it in. “And I’m sorry for that. Wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you, I just…” 

“Just what?” She cut him off, her eyebrows raised as Joel drove up the long path to your front door. “Decided you’d had enough of us so you ditched us without even thinking about it?” 

“It didn’t have anything to do with you,” he said, trying to keep his tone gentle but quickly failing. 

“Right,” she said. “Because we just don’t matter, do we?” 

She didn’t wait for him to respond, just grabbing her backpack and throwing her door open before stalking toward the house. 

“Ellie!” He called after her, jumping out of the truck and following her but he didn’t need to go far. She rounded on him, her small body taught with rage, her dark eyes harsh on him. 

“Do you care about me or not?” She demanded. 

“Course I do,” he said without really thinking about it. The answer to that question should be no. “But that don’t…” 

“Yeah?” She said, incredulous. “Because it sure doesn’t fucking seem like it and you know what, Joel? I’ve lost enough in my life. My dad didn’t want to stick around, my mom died, I moved away from where I grew up to come here so I lost my friends, too. If you’re going to ditch me then ditch me. I don’t need you to fucking pretend to feel bad about it first.” 

He squared his jaw for a moment, that sharp and never-healing wound at the center of him throbbing painfully, a reminder of what he was risking by just standing here. The front door opened and Esmo stood there, her eyes narrowed at him. 

“You don’t gotta like me,” he said to Ellie, ignoring Esmo’s glare. “But you do gotta deal with me protecting you, whether you like it or not.” 

“Great,” she said sarcastically. “Even more shit I get no say in.” 

She didn’t wait for a response, just stomping off to the house, Esmo ushering her inside with an arm around her shoulders and a little squeeze. Joel just sighed, going to get his bag from the truck and his guitar from the truck bed. 

He’d been playing it more since he’d left you behind. He played often, before Sarah died, and then it had faded to the background. Playing made him feel too inside his own skin for his comfort. Still, it was just a few days after you’d told him he didn’t matter - standing in almost this very spot in front of your home - that he’d picked up his guitar and sat down to play it. 

He took his time tuning it, feeling the strings and the wood and the sound as he did, and then he started to play. 

It hurt at first. The practicality of it hurt, of course, because his callus had softened over the years of not playing the way he once had, but more than that, it hurt inside himself, somewhere deep and dormant that had been numb and quiet for years. 

That pain made him pause, but once he started, he couldn’t seem to stay away from it. It was painful, yes, but it was a pain he had some semblance of control over and he hadn’t realized just how numb he’d been until he wasn’t anymore. He was almost addicted to it then, becoming masochistic in the way he played and the way he sought you out because hurting was better than the gaping nothingness that was so stark after you’d been there. 

It was that masochism that brought him back here. He knew that now that he was back in your space and all he could think about was what you’d said to him the last time he’d stood here. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, before he went inside. 

Joel tried not think about you as he got settled in again but you were everywhere. The house smelled like you - even though you hadn’t been here in days - and he wished he didn’t know that. He didn’t want to have this lingering memory of what your skin smelled like or what you felt like inside or how your voice changed when you were upset or tired or trying not to laugh. He resented all of it. There was nothing to be done with any of it, it was all just shit that made him miss something that was never his to begin with but he didn’t want to lose, either. 

Once he was unpacked, he tried to keep himself busy and distracted in his room but felt like he was losing his mind before too long so he moved to the living room, glancing around cautiously like something might come out and bite him. As though he wasn’t the protector here. 

Nothing did. He settled into the corner of the couch and drummed his hands on his thighs before pulling out his phone, looking you up again. 

There was an update to the story from the morning. The owner of the shop where you’d gotten the t-shirt had shared security footage of you and Reese taking the shirt from a display hanging high and out of reach outside the still closed beachfront store. You were dripping wet, wearing nothing but a bra and panties as you stood there in the early morning light. Reese had scaled the security gate that closed off the front of the building, hanging off of it comically and reaching between the bars to pull the shirt down, dropping it into your arms as you laughed your ass off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out money and a pen, scrawling some note on the cash before tossing it through the gate toward the door as you pulled the shirt on. He kissed you then, pulling you tight and close and even on the grainy CCTV footage Joel could tell that his tongue was in your goddamn mouth. 

“Was wondering if we’d see you around here again.” 

Joel’s head flew up and Elise stood at the end of your massive couch, smiling tightly. 

“Got reassigned,” Joel said, shoving his phone in his pocket. 

She hummed in understanding but still looked skeptical, moving closer to him but taking a seat a few cushions away all the same. 

“I hope you’ve been well,” she said, looking him up and down. He shrugged noncommittally and she nodded slowly, her lips pursed. “Well, Joel - is it alright if I call you Joel? I’m not sure what the convention is, if I’m being honest.” 

“Joel’s fine.” 

“Joel,” she said again, something serious in her voice now, her hands clasped on her lap. “I think we need to have a talk.”

She gave him a chance to object but he didn’t so she pressed on. 

“I’m aware that this is just a job for you, that looking after my girls is just clocking in and accepting a paycheck…” 

“That ain’t…” 

“Please,” she cut him off. “Let me finish. I don’t expect you to care, that’s not in your job description and I understand if you don’t get attached to your work but Ellie is a child. She’s a tough kid but she’s still a kid and she’s lost an awful lot for someone that young. You may not be attached but she is, whether she admits it or not, and she doesn’t get attached easily. That’s not your fault, I understand that, too, but I am going to ask that if you’re coming back into her life that you at least respect her enough to tell her when you’re leaving again.” 

Joel considered her for a moment. He wanted to tell her the truth, that he was attached, too attached. That leaving had been a necessity, that it wasn’t because he wanted to abandon either of you. 

“I will,” he said instead. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her.” 

She watched him for a moment before she nodded. 

“I know,” she said. “And now that that is out of the way… Thank you for saving my daughter. If you weren’t there, who knows where she would be and… If you’re not a parent, you wouldn’t understand, but I couldn’t survive losing another child and I very nearly did. I owe you my life.” 

Joel just tightened his jaw, that gaping hole at the center of his chest burning and raw, but he just gave her a nod. 

“Which is why I’ve asked Esmo to make you dinner tonight, too,” she continued. “Because that woman holds a grudge and she was ready to starve you straight out of Texas.” 

Joel huffed, smiling the tiniest bit. 

“Appreciate that,” he said and Elise smiled, reaching across the sofa cushions to pat his thigh affectionately. 

“See Big Miller?” She teased lightly, giving his knee a squeeze. “Not so bad, getting a little attached. Just don’t tell my daughter or granddaughter I said so.” 

Esmo did, indeed, make Joel dinner, the four of them sitting around the table, a scowl on Esmo’s face every time she passed Joel a bowl of potatoes or Brussels sprouts. Elise, bless her, kept trying to get Ellie to open up but she was giving the bare minimum response to every question and Joel wasn’t sure if it was because he was there or if it was just Ellie being a teenager. 

Esmo left after the dinner dishes were cleared and Elise got Ellie to go to bed before turning in herself and Joel was left sitting there, too restless to sleep, the house quiet and haunted by you in every breath he fucking took. 

When he knew he wouldn’t be able to sit still, he sighed and got out his guitar. He made his way to the backyard, the light in the pool making the water glow, the ripples throwing lines light across the pool deck and the side of your house. 

He settled on the end of a lounge chair and gave the guitar a strum before setting to work tuning it. Once he was satisfied, he just toyed with it a bit, trying to figure out what to play. 

He knew he wanted to play something, something that, in a masochistic way, was painful. It was like pressing on a bruise, a compulsion just to see what he could do with the hurt. 

His fingers got ahead of his mind and he was playing before he really realized he was. He hummed along at first, playing through a chunk of the song on its own at first before singing along. 

“Ain’t no sunshine when…” 

“Since when do you play,” Ellie’s voice appeared behind him, sudden enough that it made him jump. Stopped playing and looked over his shoulder, finding her standing close to the house in a t-shirt, hoodie and baggy flannel pants, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Since long before you were born, kid,” he said. 

“Well,” she said, sounding almost resentful. “You don’t suck.” 

“Gee, thanks,” he said wryly. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

“Shouldn’t you be at your own fucking house?” She asked, brows raised.

“Kid…” “Why are you back.” 

Joel quirked his jaw. 

“Why do you come over here so I ain’t craning my damn neck,” he said. “And we can talk.” 

She considered for a moment before she stomped over to him, flopping down on the end of the lounge chair next to his, tugging the hoodie tighter around herself before resting her elbows on her knees and staring him down. 

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s talk.” 

He sighed, setting the guitar down beside him and turning to face her. 

“Well?” She said when he was quiet a little too long. 

“It’s… it’s complicated,” he began but she cut him off. 

“No, it isn’t,” she said. “Either you give a shit or you don’t so which is it?” 

“It ain’t that simple,” he said. 

“Seems like it is,” she said.

“It’s not smart for me to care,” Joel said. “If… if I’m distracted, if I’m worried about more than keeping you safe - worried about if you’re happy or comfortable or anything else - then you’re at risk.” 

“So you just left us,” Ellie said. “Just like everyone else.” 

Her dark eyes were sharp and cold, narrowed at him. 

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “Should’ve… should’ve told you I wouldn’t be back.” 

She stared him down, like if she looked at him long enough she’d be able to tell if he was telling the truth or if he was lying. 

“So why are you back now,” she asked. 

“Well…” his voice trailed off and he remembered the look in your eyes in those photos and the look in your eyes when you’d told him to leave and never come back. He took a deep breath. “When I heard about… everythin’ from last night…” 

“You mean the fucking photos?” Ellie asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “The fucking photos.” 

“Those really fucking sucked,” Ellie said. 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“I know,” he said. “And… well… I remembered the issues you had with that one kid at school before. Figured it’d be worse for you now and…” 

He tightened his hand into a fist and stared at the water. 

“And you give a shit,” Ellie finished for him. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he said, looking back to her. 

She nodded slowly, quiet for a while.

“I know I’m not like… your daughter or anything, Joel,” she said eventually and his heart clenched but he did his best to hide it. “I don’t expect you to love me or any of that that shit. I just don’t want to feel like I’m fucking nothing again, alright?” 

“Alright,” he agreed. 

“Alright,” she said again. 

“So,” he said after a moment of nothing but the sound of the water lapping gently at the tiles of the pool. “How was school.” 

She scoffed. 

“Shit,” she said. “No one had the balls to say it to my face but everyone was talking about those fucking pictures and I just… does she ever think of anyone but herself?” 

“She does,” Joel said, too fast and with too much certainty but he knew this, how you fought tooth and nail for fucking everyone else. He couldn’t convince you to pause filming because you were worried about the crew getting paid. He knew how much you missed taking Ellie to and from school but you’d given her the distance she asked for. Fuck, just moving to Texas was uprooting your entire life so she could be closer to her grandmother and not be swarmed by press. His mind drifted to those pictures again. You couldn’t have been much older than Ellie was now when they were taken, younger than Sarah would be now if she were still alive and that made him want to vomit. Ellie raised her brows at him, surprised. “Believe me, she does.

“I ain’t talked with her since all this happened,” he continued. “But I know you mean everything to her. She didn’t want those photos to come out, it was just… someone bein’ an asshole, trying to knock her down when she did something great. She thinks about you and your grandma all the time, kiddo. Promise she does.” 

Ellie sighed and looked out at the water, fidgeting with the cuffs of her hoodie. 

“Not much anyone can do about it now I guess,” she said eventually. Joel just nodded and she looked back to him before nodding at the guitar. “Can I try it?” 

“You should get back to bed,” he said. “It’s late.” 

“I won’t be able to sleep,” she said. “Come on, Big Miller. Keep me from scrolling TikTok all night, let me play a little.” 

He smiled a little and shook his head. 

“Alright,” he said, passing her the guitar. “Only for a little bit. You already know some of the basics, right?” 

“Yeah,” she lit up a little, taking the guitar and settling it on her lap. “Justice and Sissy have taught me some.” 

“Well, I ain’t some country star,” Joel said, a hint of resentment in his voice. “But I know my way around a six string alright. Show me what you got.” 

She nodded, a serious look on her face, and she started to play. 

She had a knack for it and Joel helped her with some small adjustments, smiling as he watched her get better with every rendition of the song until she started to yawn. 

“Alright, c’mon, kiddo,” he said. “That’s enough. Bed.” 

“I want to hear you do it,” she said, holding the guitar out. He opened his mouth to protest but she pressed on. “Then I’ll go to bed and I won’t even bitch about it. Promise.” 

“Fine,” he said, taking the instrument. “One song, then you go to bed.” 

He thought for a moment, trying to think of what he felt like playing and settled on The River, a song that had stuck with him when Sarah’s mother had left them both and he was trying to process it all. 

“I come from down in the valley…” 

Ellie lay down as she listened to Joel’s slower, softer rendition of the song and, by the time he played the final chords, she was asleep on the lounge chair, her small body curled in on itself, her face relaxed. 

Joel couldn’t bring himself to try and wake her. Instead, he set the guitar to the side and slowly, gently, lifted her into his arms and carried her to her room. He tucked her into bed, taking comfort in the fact that he could keep her safe enough that she could rest.

A/N: I really have no good excuse for why this took a month to write. I went on vacation, summer semester of grad school has been kicking my ass but still. This was insane, I'm so sorry it took so long, thank you for being patient with me.

On the plus side, I LOVE to write Joel all yearning and down bad. I love putting that man through it, it's literally my favorite hobby, and that's going to be what's on deck for him for the next few chapters! Siren too! Buckle up for the angst train because it's here and I hope you're on board for it because this is just how it's going to go.

Thank you so much for putting up with my bullshit writing schedule and for spending your time with these characters.

I love you!!

Taglist: @christinamadsen@eff4freddie@brittmb115@copperhalfcent@r3dheadedwitch@pedropascalsbbg@lovelyjess69@yopossum@moel-jiller@picketniffler@lilyevanstan1325@reluctanthalfwayoptimism@wintersquirrel@missladym1981@mellymbee @canthinkof1user @inept-the-magnificent@secretlyangelic@pedrobae@scarletsloveletter@phry-k@sunnytuliptime@mistresssolana@joelmillerpascal@hoddystark@b3l1nd5

[ivystoryweaver]

We know Frankie’s hat is the Morales family Standard Oil hat

But what is Santiago’s hat?

@cosmickid-inmotion @missdictatorme @reallyrallyauthor @campingwiththecharmings @virtie333

Or anyone else who might know???

[my-secret-shame]

@cosmickid-inmotion 's excellent suggestion

[cosmic-kid-in-motion]

Tommy Miller x fem!reader 50’s AU

“Everything lost will be recovered as you drift into the arms of the undiscovered” ~The Monkees, me and Magdalena

Summary: You have the perfect life with Tommy. You’re newlyweds, terribly in love, just hoping for a baby soon. But then you start hearing things… and seeing things… and it gets worse and it gets scary. The 50’s psychiatric institution is not exactly a welcoming place to housewives experiencing breaks in reality.

But no matter what, at least you have Tommy… right?

Warnings: writer chose not to archive warnings. This is to preserve the mystery. Only warning I’ll give is feeling like one is going crazy. However, there will be no non con or dub con. Nothing of that sort

Header image isn’t descriptive of reader, but meant for vibes only. I found these cute pictures of actress Marpessa Dawn and as always, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog turned it into the most amazing header!!

Read on ao3

Chapter 1: You and Tommy get married

Chapter 2: You mishear more

Chapter 3: You see something deeply disturbing on the TV

BEING CONTINUED OVER AT @cosmickid-inmotion

[perotovar]

You write so much amazing 🤩 I’m obsessed!

Do you know any other good lgbtq+ writers in the Pedro fandom? 🙏

aww thank you, hun!

yessss i do! we have some amazing queer writers in this fandom!

@for-a-longlongtime @sp00kymulderr @qveerthe0ry @quinnnfabrgay-writes @stitch-away

@pedritofics @rebel-held @cosmickid-inmotion @sixhours

i'm almost positive i'm missing some, but i just woke up and my memory is fucking with me lol so, please, if you know of any or are a queer writer yourself, please comment below!!!

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Darkfic rec list (Oscar Isaac) - WIP!

Hi! <3 here I plan on linking all those delicious darkfics I found because I love them more than anything else and if you love them then you might find your taste in this list.

Please have patience with me because I don't read fanfics that much so the list may be small at first plus I gotta find those I read in the past lol

CW/Triggers: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NON-CON, DARK THEMES, VIOLENCE, BLOOD, KIDNAPPING

list below- >:) -- latest addition June 13. 2025

Jack Mojave

-> Be My Guest by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction -> Jack Mojave x gn!reader -- Yes Fen, I included you here because you made me fall for Jack! >:) I need helpp---

Moon Knight

-> Keyhole by @boxofbonesfic -> dark!Marc Spector x fem!reader - Oouu, dark!Marc is truly the best!!

-> You're my new addiction by @thedarkcoven -> Jake Lockley (featuring Marc and Steven) x fem!reader - Who wouldn't love being their toy? >:)

-> Marc has blood kink by @ozarkthedog -> dark!Marc Spector x fem!reader - This made me love Marc even more I want to hug him

-> Night desires by @lunalockley -> dark!Steven Grant x fem!reader - Don't get me wrong, Steven IS the type of person who could eeaassillyy snap and have those thoughts!!

-> Addicted by @cosmickid-inmotion -> darkish!Steven Grant x fem!reader - I love it when Steven gets dark, it suits him 😈😌

[nonbinairyboi]

Summary: A day at the farmer’s market with Javi in Laredo.

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!disabled!Reader (reader uses a walker)

Written for @cosmickid-inmotion Disability Visibility Event (I’m cutting it close, I know)

Dividers by me

A/N: Shoutout to @mandaloriankait for hyping me and reading this and to my sister for helping with the Spanish. I am always open to criticism of my Spanish so that I can improve. I use a walker as needed so this is based on my experience.

Word Count: ~1.9k

Tags/Warnings: Ableism. Fluff. Mobility Aid User.

Main Masterlist | Read on AO3

Farmer’s Market

The Texas sun warmed your back as soon as Javi helped you out of the car, your walker already set up in arms-reach.

Javier had always naturally moved around you and anticipated your needs without much direction, from the first time you were reintroduced by Chucho all those months ago now. You hadn’t expected it from what you remembered of him in high school. Not that he had been rude, if anything he had just seemed a little focused on his own life’s trajectory and a little self-centered in the way that most popular high school boys were.

While Javi was in Colombia, you had grown close to Chucho, having run into him in town one day while you were out shopping. Your parents were no longer here, and something about the slightly stressed and lonely look on his face had compelled you to drop by the ranch the next week. From there, it had morphed into an unspoken weekly dinner that neither of you ever missed except for the last time Javier had been home briefly.

When Javier came home for good, looking worn down and disillusioned, he had shocked you by joining your shared meals.

When you had arrived on that Thursday, you had been surprised to see Javi sitting on the front steps, wafts of smoke surrounding his head.

“I hear that I have you to thank for Chucho not wasting away these last years.” He had said as he stood up and met you at your car, grabbing the pot from your passenger seat without being asked.

You felt your face heat as you shrugged. “He’s overstating my contribution.”

He placed the pot on the porch before turning back to you.

“¿Puedo?” May I? He asked, indicating your walker. You smiled lightly and nodded.

Placing it at the top of the stairs, he surprised you by turning back towards you, offering an arm to help you up the stairs.

“Muchas gracias.” Thank you very much. You replied as you took his arm in one hand and the railing in the other.

He didn’t rush you as you went up the few steps of the porch, stopping naturally on each step. Javi pointed out the updates to the ranch that he was planning on helping Chucho with now that he was home, gently filling the silence.

Dinner was a simple affair as you had made the pozole earlier in the day and just needed to heat it up and serve it. They both complimented your cooking, which you waved off immediately. Chucho spent most of the dinner updating you on his week, cutting Javier off almost every time he tried to chime in, making you cover more than a few laughs as coughs.

After Chucho had retired to watch his telenovelas, you had settled on the porch with Javi, talking about everything and nothing for what felt like hours. A familiarity had grown between you; easy, but with an undertone that made your stomach flip whenever your eyes met.

A few days later you had run into each other in Laredo while you were both running errands and he offered to take you to lunch.

Things had evolved organically from there. Before you knew it, dinners became a more frequent affair at the Peña’s. Chucho never questioned it, but you saw the small smile he tried to hide when Javi started to scoot his chair closer to you.

When Chucho suggested the two of you should run to the farmer’s market today, you were excited. The weather was hot, but a gentle breeze made it more than bearable.

Javi had snuck kisses at every stop sign on the way, making you laugh.

Your pain had been mostly controllable lately, but you knew you would need to pace yourself today. The vibrant colors of the produce caught your eye as you made frequent stops.

Your walker already held handfuls of jalapeños, radishes, tomatoes, onions, garlic, and a bag of fresh corn as you made your way toward the Ortiz’s fruit stand. Starting to feel the weight of the day, you leaned more heavily on your walker.

The square was packed today; the weather perfect for the market. People in the square moved slowly, stopping easily at most stands before casually moving on. As you walked, you felt the people behind you get closer, a huff of annoyance reaching your ears when the flow of people slowed again momentarily. Suddenly, you felt them brush by you, bumping you slightly as they did. When they stepped in front of you, they forced you to go slower so as not to hit them. You felt Javi tense beside you and you reached out to grab his arm to calm him. It didn’t matter how many times you told him that this was normal. He always got upset.

Greeting Señora Ortiz with a bright smile, you picked out some fruit for yourself and Javi and threw in some extras for Chucho. He always had a sweet tooth. Javi had whispered that he would be right back as you considered the watermelons before you and you waved him off distractedly.

Señora Ortiz made small talk with you as you picked your favorites, her youngest, Gabriela, taking care of the customers around you. As you reached for some of her famous grapefruits, someone knocked carelessly into the side of your walker, which pushed you sideways a few steps. A twinge of pain shot down your leg and you grasped the walker for stability. The man who had accidentally pushed you said nothing in acknowledgement of what he had done, simply reaching over and picking up the same grapefruit you had been going for before turning to Gabriela to pay. You saw a storm brewing in Señora Ortiz’s face and you quickly finished picking what you needed and paid her, reassuring her that you were fine.

Javier appeared beside you a moment later, one hand not-so-discreetly behind his back. He smiled when he met your eyes, but frowned a little at the slight strain in yours.

Pulling his hand from behind his back, he revealed a bouquet of bright flowers. The tightness left your smile at the gesture. Leaning in, you kissed him lightly and took the flowers, murmuring a thank you as you set them on your walker.

“¿Vamos a casa?” Ready to go home? He asked.

You nodded enthusiastically, ready to sit down and rest.

As you made your way towards the edge of the square, a few more people cut in front of you, forcing you to stop again. The fatigue and pain were catching up with you, the breeze no longer strong enough to relieve the intensity of the sun, making your movements more sluggish.

You caught the stares from the people moving in the opposite direction; the quick glances from your walker to your face and then to Javi.

Focusing on moving, you kept your gaze straight ahead so you wouldn’t catch any judgy or pitying looks. A group of four suddenly brushed past and cut in front of you again, but were forced to slow because of the people in front of you immediately. You didn’t have time to stop the walker and you accidentally hit the back of their legs, jolting yourself as well as them.

The tallest of them whipped around, an enraged expression on his face.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed quickly, trying to diffuse the situation. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t have time to stop when you came in front of me.”

“Yeah fucking right.” He spit back at you.

Before you could process what was happening, Javier stepped in front of you.

“You cut us off, of course the walker fucking hit you!” He gritted out.

“Your friend here was going too slow.” The man shot back.

“The whole path is going slow if you didn’t fucking notice.”

The latest jolt to your walker had made your pain spike and you were starting to feel lightheaded from the heat. You focused on your breathing as the man bit back.

“Well not everyone is as slow as your friend here.” He laughed before continuing. “Looks like they should just stay home. Or maybe you should call hospice.

Javier’s arms shot out and pushed him, sending him reeling as they both spewed curses at one another. One of the man’s other friends caught him.

“Hey!” The friend yelled. “Peña. I’m sorry. He was out of line and rude. It won’t happen again. We’ll let you get home.”

The first man had fallen silent upon hearing Javi’s last name. Sometimes you forgot the weight it carried now.

“Javi, vamos.” Let’s go, Javi. You said quickly, desperate to get to the car. That seemed to snap him back to reality, turning to you quickly, catching the exhaustion in your expression before quickly nodding at the man who had broken it up and turning back to you.

The rest of the walk to the car was quick as most of the people around you had stopped to stare at the altercation and quickly moved out of your way as you approached with Javi, not wanting to be the next focus of his rage.

He helped you into your seat silently, unloading the flowers and food before folding your walker and loading it up as well.

The first few minutes of the drive were quiet save for the rumble of the engine.

“I’m sorry.” He said after a few minutes.

“It’s ok.” You reassured him. “You were looking out for me. I guess I’ve just learned to deal with it.”

“You shouldn’t have to!” He said, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“I know.” You replied before pausing again. “It means a lot. That you care. I’m so used to just pushing through on my own.”

Your gaze flickered to the window, suddenly feeling vulnerable in a way that you weren’t prepared for.

Javier breathed in and out deeply before unexpectedly pulling onto the side of the road, the crunch of the dirt filling your ears. He shifted the car into park before removing his seatbelt and turning to you.

“I do care.” He said quietly, his thumbs tracing the back of your hands.

His head slowly raised to yours.

“Te amo.” I love you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you fought to keep your lip from wobbling.

He’d never said it that plainly.

He meant it. You could see it in the openness on his face, as if he was prepared for you to cut him open .

A hesitant smile spread across your face.

“Te amo, Javi.” You replied.

His eyes searched yours for a beat before his own smile split across his face. He cradled your face, immediately bringing you in for a slow yet desperate kiss.

Your hands flew to him, pulling him closer. Grins split across your faces again as you kissed, making you break apart as your foreheads leaned against each other.

“Vamos a casa. Papá estará esperando.” Let’s go home. Papá will be waiting. Javier said.

You chuckled at that, kissing him once before sitting back in your seat.

Your life had changed a lot in the last few months, but for one of the first times in your life, it felt like the change was a fully positive one.

You still needed help getting around, but now, you had someone who stepped in whenever you wavered. Someone to catch you.

[soft-girl-musings]

THAT'S TOO DAMN BAD (in the most affectionate way possible)

I'm sorry 😭 rooting for you!!!

you were on my mind this morning so I'm popping in to say I'm very proud of u for graduating and applying for jobs and being very brave about it all ❤️🔥🫡 peace and so so so much joy upon ye, you deserve it dude 🎉‼️😤

I applied for 4 last night. It’s 9 am and I’ve been rejected by two already 😭😭 IM TIRED OF THIS GRANDPA!!!!

But THANK YOUUUUUUU ily 🥰🥰🥰

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

love leave me in laredo

pairing: javier peña/steve murphy

cws/tags: boys kissing, a lil smutty (sex is talked about but happens off-screen), they're in high school but they're 18, drinking and smoking, angsty, period-typical homophobia, texas??

summary: what if steve and javi met earlier? (when steve moves to laredo in his senior year of high school)

a/n: it's pride month!! gay sex thursday? no! gay sex everyday! also this is for @mandaloriankait 's pride month event!

p.s. sorry i couldn't give you a happy pride fic !! unfortunately, the gay experience is a lonely one for me!!!!

wc: 4.7k

tags: @darkfaethedestroyer @poselysscripts (+ some other ppl i think might enjoy this?) @almostempty @gothcsz @stitch-away @cosmickid-inmotion

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It’s hot as Hell here, is the first thing Steve thinks when he gets off the bus in Laredo. He’s sweating through his polo shirt, and not just ‘cause he’s nervous. He is, he should be. Some parents ground their kids, maybe even hit ‘em, but Steve’s mother sent him straight to Texas the moment she caught him sinning beyond an accidental use of the Lord’s name in vain. Texas is where he’ll get set straight by his no-nonsense father — a man whom he resembles in looks alone.

When Steve spies the man leaning against his truck like he’s proud of nothing, his face is contorted into an expression that Steve’s never been able to make. Slightly pissed off just ‘cause it makes him look like more of a man — that kind of thing.

“You’re late,” he says. 

“Sorry. It’s not my fault the bus got delayed.”

“Doesn’t matter whose fault it is. You’re late, and that inconveniences me. Now, put your bags in the back, and let's get home before the game starts.”

“What game?”

“The Cowboys are playin’ the Redskins tonight. Don’t tell me you’re not into football.”

“I don’t really watch football… but I might like it if I did.”

“Your Mama don’t let you?”

“Nah. She thinks it’s too loud to even look at.”

It gives her a headache like everything else. Everything is either a sin or it gives his mother a headache. Besides going to Bible study and doing his homework. Going out to a party one night almost gave her a heart attack, according to her. 

Steve’s unpacking his things when his dad knocks on his door and comes in anyway. Not like he has anything to hide. 

“Some of the neighbors are comin’ over tonight. I expect you to come down and introduce yourself. I don’t want my son to be a recluse.”

He gives some form of agreement and though he’s tired, he’s grateful for the chance to socialize outside of a church gathering. 

A few men show up dressed in fan attire, all blue and white with stars (like the American flag hanging outside minus the red and the stripes) — mostly his father’s age minus one. 

“Steve,” his father calls. “Get over here.”

“Yes, sir,” he says reflexively, and walks over. 

“This is Javier. He lives a couple houses down, and he’s a senior too.”

Javier gives him a greeting that’s the perfect balance between polite and suave. He’s probably a douchebag.

If Javier is any indication of the general Laredo High School population, Steve has never been less excited to go to school. He doesn’t pay much attention to the game. Whether or not the Cowboys win is none of his concern. He watches Javier instead. He’s got well-trimmed brown hair — longer than Steve’s — and brown eyes, he thinks, though he tries not to make eye-contact. For the duration of the game, he half pays attention, watching from the kitchen and snacking on finger foods. When he’s finished eating, he chews on a toothpick. Like an asshole.

The sound of the phone ringing is what makes Steve realize that he’s been staring. It’s an excuse to escape the embarrassment that he feels when he meets Javier’s eyes, but his father makes it to the phone first.

“It’s your mother,” he calls to Steve, who walks over with his head down — his father could’ve just left it at, ‘it’s for you’, and maybe he could look cool, maybe when Javier — or anyone else — hears a feminine voice on the other end, they’d think it’s his girlfriend. But, no, everyone already knows that Steve is 18 years old and still has to speak to his mommy on the phone during the ‘big game’ (whatever that means).

Worse, Javier seems to have an active love life, or something of that nature. His father mentions that a girl came around to the house earlier looking for him. To Steve, it seems Javier fits in well with these assholes who give him a pat on the back when he mentions some girl named Lorraine. The only one who acts like an adult is Javier’s father, who seems a bit uncomfortable with all the encouragement around Javier “getting some”, as he hears one of the men say.

When school comes around on Monday, Steve picks out the most unassuming outfit he can find. Not too stiff, not too flashy (that one’s not hard to avoid), something average. He keeps his head down in the halls and makes a beeline for the courtyard once he’s grabbed something resembling lunch. It would be nice to be alone for a half hour even if he has to bear the heat.

Of course, someone is already waiting at one of the picnic tables. Steve doesn’t turn his head so as to not have to acknowledge the person until he hears a whistle.

He turns and lo and behold, it’s Javier. Steve gives him a polite head nod but that’s not enough to get Javier’s eyes off him.

“Get over here, asshole,” he says, and Steve is 90% sure he’s about to get his ass beat, but at least it’d be 1v1 and he has an advantage in height.

But that’s not it at all.

Steve walks over with his lunch tray and places it on the wooden picnic table.

“Sit,” Javier says.

Great, he’s already become someone’s bitch and it’s only the first day.

Steve picks at whatever slop is on his plate, but before he gets anything in his mouth, Javier says, “trust me when I say it’s not worth it.”

“Eating?”

“Eating that, yes.”

“Do you just… not eat?”

“I eat at home,” he says. “Plus, I got these to keep me occupied.” He holds up a pack of cigarettes, shaking the box like he’s trying to tease Steve with it.

“You’re allowed to smoke?”

“Not inside.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re out here.”

“Yeah that, and Lorraine.”

“The girl you’re dating?”

“I’m not dating her — where’d you get that idea?”"

“At my house, your dad said she came over to your house.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing between us. She just thinks there is.”

“Why’s she think that?”

“We hooked up at a party over the summer but it wasn’t anything more than that.”

“That’s it? And she still thinks you’re together or something?” Steve’s caught up in the gossip now.

“Okay, there was one more time at a Halloween party, but nothing since then.”

“That was like a week ago.” That was the night Steve got busted.

“Yeah. Seven whole days and she’s still hung up on it.” Javier looks particularly exasperated when he takes a drag from his cigarette. Like he’s a detective in a noir film, sitting at his desk after he’s found a possible witness dead in a particularly difficult case. (He’d just rented The Naked City and watched it twice in the past 48 hours).

The bell rings and Javier asks, as he stomps out his cigarette, “what class you got next?”

“Spanish 101. Hopefully I’ll be able to catch up, but I doubt it.”

“With Mrs. Gonzalez?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Steve pulls out his schedule to double check.

“Nice,” Javier says, bumping shoulders with Steve. “I do too.”

“Oh. Is it a hard class?”

“Not for me. I’m fluent.”

“Why’re you in 101, then?”

“Because the teachers don’t know that, and I trust you won’t tell them.”

“I won’t, but I am curious — how do you get away with them not realizing?”

“I always get one or two answers wrong on every test on purpose and I pronounce some shit wrong on purpose whenever she calls on me.”

“That’s pretty smart.”

“Sometimes, I’ll ‘accidentally’ mix up a word and say a swear word or something. And then, Gonzalez has to explain to the whole class what ‘pendejo’ means.”

“What’s it mean?”

“It’s what you are,” Javier says with a laugh.

“No, but seriously, I wanna know, what’s it mean?” Steve persists.

“I’ll have Mrs. Gonzalez explain it again today.”

Mrs. Gonzalez makes Steve go by ‘Esteban’ because she thinks translating everyone’s names to Spanish makes the class more immersive or something. Javier is real fuckin’ lucky, he thinks when Javier continues to call him ‘Esteban’ outside of the classroom and he has nothing to fire back with because Javier in Spanish is Javier.

Until he remembers what Javi said earlier: ‘pendejo’ so that’s the nickname he chooses for Javi and for a second, he thinks Javi might slap him. But he smiles like he’s proud of Steve. Steve is, in a way, Javier’s apprentice. He learns how to avoid getting picked on and instead, how to pick up chicks. He’s never as good as Javier but it doesn’t really matter to him. As long as there’s something, someone willing to go out with him by prom night, it’ll be fine.

The year goes by fast, and he doesn’t remember the exact moment he made his first and only real friend in Laredo, but it had to have been when he started calling him ‘Javi’ instead of ‘Javier’.

When prom arrives, Javi ends up getting roped into going with Lorraine, and luckily, she has a single female friend who gets along well enough with Steve that they can stand awkwardly slow dancing and sipping on diet coke. He accompanies this girl, Heather, to Lorraine’s after-prom party as well. Steve can see a thousand ways he can get in trouble here. But, where will they send him this time? Back to his mother’s house?

He doubts his dad will mind much about a single beer and one cigarette. So, he keeps one hand wrapped around a bottle and the other around Heather like he’s nervous he’ll lose her in the crowd if he detaches himself from her. She doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she leads Steve upstairs to Lorraine’s guest room but stops by Lorraine’s room on the way there after she asks if Steve has a condom with him, and he pretends not to be that surprised by the question.

“No biggie.” She giggles. “Lorraine probably has a couple in her room.”

Steve stands awkwardly next to Heather as she opens the door, unsure of whether to follow her —until they catch Lorraine and Javi in flagrante delicto and he makes a swift exit. For whatever reason, Heather remains unfazed and ends up grabbing a condom from Javi’s wallet on the bedside table.

“You’re looking at me like I just shot someone,” she says.

"I was just surprised you… did that.”

“What else would I do? Look, Steve, I trust you, but my mom won’t let me get on the pill so we really can’t do anything without one.”

That’s not really what he meant, but he’s so focused on the fact that he’s about to lose his virginity that he just says, “Yeah, of course.”

The sex, in retrospect, is wholly mediocre. It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened but he had zero clue what he was doing and definitely did not tell Heather he was a virgin. She seems to be satisfied when she flops back on the bed, though she does most of the work. They both lie there in silence, staring at the ceiling afterwards.

The problem is not with anything that happened within this room. The problem is down the hall. Its name is Javier. Steve cannot get the image of Javi like that — naked, sweaty, doing a way better job than whatever Steve did — out of his head.

“Do you wanna stay here or get back to the party?” she asks eventually.

“Kinda peaceful in here,” he says, which isn’t untrue.

She turns to lie on his chest. “Your heart is beating really fast.”

“Just a little nervous.”

“Why’s that?”

“Nothing bad. Just… butterflies, I guess.”

“Oh. I guess I should be flattered, then.”

He doesn’t answer, but rubs her back in a comforting, secretly apologetic gesture. She takes it as reassurance which is fine with him.

“So, when are you going to ask me out?”

“Is this not going out?”

“On a real date.”

“I was waiting for the right moment but I guess now is as good a time as any. So, how do you feel about me taking you to dinner?”

“I’d like that.”

And then her lips are back on his. For quite some time. With a sigh, she stands up from the bed and gathers her dress.

“We should probably get back before people suspect anything.”

“I don’t think we were very subtle so they’re probably already suspecting but sure, I guess I could use another beer.”

Steve doesn’t bother to put his tie back on properly. If his messy hair and lipgloss smudges weren’t enough to let everyone know exactly what happened upstairs, that is.

When he finds Javi outside, after trying to avoid him and failing, Javi claps him on the back. Hard enough that it makes him stumble a bit.

“Proud of you, man. Finally got some. I told you you could do it.”

“You don’t have to say it so loudly.”

“Come on. Everyone knows what you were up to. Look at you. And, I can see your girlfriend gossiping to Lorraine over there so I guess you did a good job.”

“I guess… Sorry we walked in on you guys by the way.”

“Nah. Don’t sweat it. I’m just glad you wrapped it before you tapped it.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s good that you wore a condom.” Then, casually leaning his head closer to whisper in the most obvious way possible, “One time Lorraine’s period was late and ever since then I’ve been super paranoid.”

“Don’t wanna be a father, huh?”

“Not now. I’ve got shit to do. Like school and stuff.”

“I know how dedicated you are to school.”

“My C’s will get me the same diploma as your A’s will.”

They get separated by their girlfriends, and Steve watches Javi down beers like they’re going out of style from across the yard. He flashes Steve an eyeroll when Lorraine isn’t looking. Steve smiles like he understands though he’s enjoying his talk with Heather, he thinks. It’s a little surface-level but he’s learned a lot about all of her friend drama and her cheer schedule (in case Steve wants to hang out soon).

“I’ve gotta get going before my mom sends out a search party for me,” she says.

Steve only realizes he’s not looking at her when she asks if she looks alright.

“Yeah.” He turns to her. “You’re beautiful.”

It’s honestly just instinct. He’s so used to telling his mom she looks great every Sunday before church while she fiddles with his tie and chides him for not hanging up his shirt and letting it wrinkle.

Regardless, Heather seems flattered, even flustered.

“I meant, like, will my parents suspect anything?”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, you ought to wipe that lipstick off your face before you go home.”

“There’s lipstick on my face and nobody told me until now?”

“It’s cute. It’s like I’m telling all the other girls that you’re mine.”

He doesn’t really know what to say to that.

“So, wanna hang on Friday?”

“Steve, I have cheer,” she says, exasperated by his tiny lapse in memory.

“Oh, does Saturday work, then?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you before then, though, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

They share an awkward hug and a kiss on the cheek before she leaves him sitting alone and away from everyone else. He observes the party and pretends he’s like Nick from The Great Gatsby (which is what they’re currently reading in English class) until he remembers that he doesn’t really belong here. He’s just the plus one. He should go. He thinks about saying goodnight to Javi but he looks busy so Steve just leaves.

He comes home way past midnight and tries to sneak through the door, as if his father hasn’t noticed he’s gone. His dad is up, waiting for him to come home.

“Where have you been all night?”

“There was a get-together after prom. My date asked me to accompany her so I did. Sorry I didn’t call.”

“Were you drinkin’?”

“One or two beers.”

“Smokin’?”

“No, sir.”

“And I don’t just mean cigarettes.”

“No. I’ve never done drugs in my life, and I never will.”

“I doubt it. But, you don’t look drunk or high, so— wait is that lipstick?”

“Uh, no… where?”

“Your cheek.”

“It was just a kiss on the cheek, I promise.”

“I can see a lie from a mile away, but boy, I’m just glad you’re not gay. As long as you’re safe and you don’t do it in my house, I’m not mad about havin’ a son who’s gettin’ girls.”

That night, he doesn’t sleep. Can’t stop thinking about his father’s words. I’m just glad you’re not gay. Like it’s a disease. It’s a sin, sure. But, his father seems even worse than his mother when it comes to homosexuality. He doesn’t really know why but it makes him uncomfortable.

Maybe he’s just very empathetic. Certainly, he’s never had actual feelings for another guy. He just doesn’t like seeing anyone get bullied, that’s all. That’s completely all, he decides.

Then, Saturday arrives.

“What’s wrong, boy?”

“Heather’s grounded. So, I’m staying in tonight.”

“Not excited to have some time with your old man?”

“It’s not that—”

“I’m messin’ with you.” His father punches him in the arm, playfully, but also much too hard. “I’d be sad too if my girlfriend canceled on me. How ‘bout you hang with a friend?”

“Uh, like, who?”

“I don’t know. How ‘bout you call up Javi? You guys seem like good friends now.”

Steve’s sure he’s busy, but he calls anyway.

“Tell your dad you’re going to my house, and I’ll tell mine I’m going to yours.”

And, after that single sentence, Javi hangs up.

“I’m going to Javi’s house. Is that okay?”

He meets Javi who has a six pack in his hand, in a more secluded part of the neighborhood. It feels far more illicit than it should.

“Where’d you get that?”

“What are you? A cop?”

“Never. But I’m curious.”

“I’ve got connections.”

Javi is winded by the time they climb to the top.

“You’ve gotta quit smoking, man.”

“You’ve gotta start, man.”

And, he does. Javi laughs as he watches Steve cough out smoke but he encourages him to trust the process of practice. It becomes second nature by the end of the night and an addiction by the time he’s a full-fledged adult.

A six pack isn’t enough to get drunk. And that’s for the best because Steve already admits way too much to Javi.

“You never really told me why you came here.”

“Yeah I did. My mom caught me at a party.”

“That’s it? You were just at a party? I don’t buy it. Were you wasted? Was it drugs? Did you come home with a hickey on your neck because I’ve been there.”

“Are you a cop?”

“No, never. I’m just your friend.”

“Fine. I just kissed someone, and my mom found out.”

“Kissed? Just a kiss?”

“Yeah. It was just… the person. She didn’t like who I was kissing.”

“Your mom’s got personal problems with a teenager.”

Steve looks down, trying to find an answer in the grass under his feet.

“Oh shit. I get it. It wasn’t a girl, it was—”

“Shut it, Javi. Don’t say another word.”

“But I’m right. Right?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He’s about to stand up when Javi pulls him down by the wrist.

“Dude, I’m not judging you.”

It’s the most serious tone he’s ever heard from Javi.

“You can’t tell a soul. My mom’s one step away from disowning me and if my dad finds out…”

“I won’t tell anyone. Swear it.”

There’s a long pause before Steve decides to trust him.

“How come you’re cool with it?”

“I’ll tell you if you swear to keep your mouth shut.”

“Of course. You’re holding my secrets. Why would I tell yours?”

“I like girls— as you’ve seen first-hand… but I like guys too.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Haven’t really told anyone… for obvious reasons. But, that’s the truth.”

“Damn. So, we’re in the same boat.”

“So, you like girls and guys? Not just guys?”

“I think so. I mean, I was able to, ahem, perform on prom night.”

“Fair enough.” Javi pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, lights it, and talks with it between his teeth. “I’m glad you’re having a good time with, uh, whatever her name is…”

“Heather. Yeah, we were supposed to hang out tonight but she got grounded.”

“Oh, so I’m second choice.” Javi blows smoke in Steve’s direction.

“Not like you wouldn’t rather be with Lorraine.”

“Uh, I’d rather be with anyone other than Lorraine.”

“You guys were literally having sex a week ago. I saw it with my own two eyes. And I’d like to unsee it.”

“That doesn’t mean I like her.”

“What does it mean, then?”

Javi lies back on the grass with an over-dramatic sigh, like he’s in Casablanca… or something (Steve rented it but hasn’t had time to watch it yet so he doesn’t really know the plot). “God, I don’t know,” he says. “Can we talk about something else? Anything other than Lorraine.”

“Okay. Pick a topic.”

With zero hesitation, Javi says, “Tell me about the guy.”

“What guy?”

“The guy you kissed.”

He considers arguing, saying this is his off-limits topic, but fuck it, he’s already admitted the worst of it. “He was just some guy. Nothing special.”

“Ouch.”

“I don’t mean it like that. I just mean I wasn’t in love with him or anything.”

“Yeah, sure, but was he at least hot?”

“It was dark out. I didn’t get a great look. Plus, you’re supposed to kiss with your eyes closed.”

“Yeah, I know. But you must’ve seen him, at least a little. You don’t just close your eyes and then the kiss just happens. You’re not fucking Sleeping Beauty with the mystery man.”

“Okay. Since you wanna know so bad. He was kinda like you, brown hair, brown eyes, but his body type was more like mine, wasn’t as fit… as you.

“So, he wasn’t as hot as me?”

That one takes him by surprise. How the fuck does he answer that.

“How the fuck do you expect me to answer that?”

He shrugs. “You could say he’s hotter, I’m hotter, or you could plead the fifth, but then, I’d probably press you for more information.”

“I guess, weighing all factors, you are hotter. I hope your ego is happy.”

Javi turns to Steve, excitedly, like he’s won something.

“So, I’m hot.”

“I didn’t say that. I said you’re hotter than that other guy. That could mean anything. Maybe he was ugly.”

“But you wouldn’t kiss someone who was ugly.”

“Maybe I would. You don’t know.”

“I do know. You have standards. You could’ve gone out with that one chick in Spanish class but she wasn’t… the best looking.”

“Well, anyway, I have Heather now. Who is very beautiful.”

“I agree.”

“And you have Lorraine.”

“I don’t. She’s with another guy tonight.”

“Really? Damn that sucks, Javi.”

“Yeah. I guess we weren’t official though so I can’t be mad at her.”

“You can still be upset about it. You liked her.”

“Yeah. Fine. I liked her. A lot. She’s really cool once you get to know her. She’s obviously really pretty, but she’s way smarter than she acts in public. She’s really funny in a goofy way… kinda like you.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

Javi leans over to grab another beer in lieu of admitting that it was a compliment.

“Anyway, she really messed up. She had a good guy and she threw that away.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend. You’re not supposed to flirt with me.”

“I’m not flirting with you. I just said something nice. And maybe, I take it back. I actually think you suck.”

“Okay, then you suck by association.”

“No, I’m hanging out with you because I feel so bad, which makes me a good guy.”

“No, your girlfriend canceled on you so I brought you beer and cigarettes — which were not cheap — to cheer you up.”

Steve goes to grab another beer and realizes Javi took the last one.

“Hey, that’s your fourth. It was supposed to be my third.”

“Whoops. Too late.”

“Gimme the rest.”

“Uh-uh. You want it, come get it.”

So, Steve lunges towards him. And, admittedly, he doesn’t give a fuck about the beer. It’s fucking PBR, nothing to write home about.

Javi clutches the bottle and Steve grabs his wrist. And when he realizes he’s on top of Javi, they both stop. No one squirms away but no one stiffens in fear either. It’s not really a staring contest so much as it is an attempt at reading each other’s minds.

“Take it,” Javi says, handing over the beer.

“I don’t want it,” Steve says.

So Javi lets it spill out onto the grass beside him, never breaking eye-contact. Javi smiles, shrugs, as if to say, I surrender.

“Go ahead and do it, or get off me.”

“Just don’t tell anyone,” Steve says but his lips meet Javi’s before Javi can respond.

Steve can’t really figure out where to put his hands but it doesn’t matter because Javi pins him to the ground before he can decide. His brain is silent until he realizes that he can feel himself getting hard, and he can feel that Javi already is. Until eventually, like he’s snapped out of a trance, Javi climbs off of him.

“We shouldn’t. We’re technically in public. And you have a girlfriend.”

“You’re probably right. But if it means anything, I wish that wasn’t the case.”

“Yeah. Me too.” But he’s looking far away now, at the trees, or the stars, or something Steve can’t see off in the distance.

Steve and Heather break up amicably. She’s going to college out of state and they don’t want to do long-distance. The minute she leaves, he thinks of Javi, thinks of calling him up and saying, “how about now?” but he doesn’t.

Lorraine apologizes and Javi takes her back. He pretends to be happy for them because that’s what a good friend does.

He gets invited to the wedding and has to buy a new suit for it. He has to sift through uncomfortable jackets and pants, try them on, and get them tailored all while he considers what Javi will think of him.

It’s going to be a small wedding. In a church. Which only serves to make Steve feel more out of place.

When the day comes, Lorraine is crying inside the church, and Steve knows why but not where. Javi left for Colombia, joined the DEA and didn’t say a fucking word to anybody about it.

And in a well-concealed fit of anger, Steve moves to Miami, a place where he knows no one. He becomes a cop because he can’t figure out what else to do. He has a girlfriend, then another, then he’s single and convinced he’ll never find anyone, and that the love of his life fled to another country. Until he meets Connie, a woman he loves so much he stops thinking of Javi. They get engaged within six months and everyone around them is convinced it won’t work out but it does.

The DEA pays more than the Miami PD, he finds, and they’ll pay him even better to go to Colombia. Connie is reluctant, but she does it because she loves him. Because she’s kind and caring and loves him more than he thinks he deserves sometimes.

On his first day, he meets his partner, who introduces himself as Javier. Not “Javi”, not “how’ve you been?”, not “it’s good to see you”. As if the mustache and the aviators can hide his past.

When he removes his sunglasses, and looks at Steve with the same brown eyes he did years ago, on that hill, they both wait for the other to say something.

No one ever does.