#I swear I've read these chapters like 5-6 times each to make sure I get the setting and specifics right

[lilliancdoodles]

More fanart for @tastytoastz's Mermaid AU fic Life is like the ocean, it goes up and down. This is specifically from Chapter 3! If this looks interesting give it a read, I love it so much!!

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 23)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: continuation of the last chapter

warnings: nothing but pure angst tbh

word count: 4.8k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: i was debating letting y'all stew on the cliffhanger for a week or so but after killing Lirilla I figured that'd be too mean. So anywho, here's the next part...

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20

read on ao3

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The world stopped turning as Eris’s screams ripped through the air. Grief tore through Eris’s end of the bond like a current, threatening to spill over and consume you. The Prince fell to his knees, crawling towards his mother’s body. Nesta’s grey eyes were wide with horror, her hand over her mouth as she shrunk back. It wasn’t hard to figure out just how easily this reminded her of her own father’s death.

You were utterly paralyzed with shock, jaw slack as your gaze remained glued on the lifeless body of the Lady of Autumn. Her russet eyes were dull, the warmth that she had gazed at you with as she tried to comfort you was completely gone. Her collarbone jutted out beneath her thin, pale skin. Only then did you notice how small, how frail she truly was. It was as if the life had been sucked from her body long before her husband snapped her neck.

Beron stood over Lirilla’s body, staring down at Eris with disgust. There was no remorse on his face, as if he hadn’t just murdered his wife to spite his eldest son. Eris wept, pale hands trembling as he cradled Lirilla’s face in them. He pressed his forehead into hers, gut-wrenching sobs shredding at your heart as you watched the normally stone-cold male wailing over his mother’s body. It was as if he was a child again, desperately clinging to his mother in search of some feeling of comfort from her lifeless form.

“You’re sick.” Nesta’s voice was a broken whisper, laced with hatred as she met the eyes of the High Lord. There was no sign of those glorious silver flames, as if they, too, had given up all hope. Eris had stopped sobbing, his eyes glassy and numb as he laid over his mother’s body, wrapping his arms around her small form.

Beron only smiled sickly. “I told him countless times, his soft spot for his wench of a mother would be his downfall. I am making him stronger, this way. He will not be burdened by doltish feelings anymore.”

“You’d murder his mother and let his own mate get killed just to prove a point?” Nesta said, looking as if she was going to throw up. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to look away as you leaned into Azriel for support. At this point, you weren’t sure if your legs would support you any longer.

That otherworldly High Lord power thrummed from Beron as he spoke. “Precisely. Now here’s what’s going to happen. Eris is the only son I have left who is not a whimpering fool. Despite his scheming, I will not allow myself to be without an heir. It would weaken me and this court, and I will not have that happen. You are to kneel before me and swear fealty to me, in perpetuity. After you serve your punishment, all will be forgiven. This marriage will resume. The other girl will die, and you and my son will wear these for the rest of your lives.”

The dread that rippled through your body at Beron’s promise of your demise was quickly replaced by a newfound horror as the High Lord snapped his fingers, and two objects appeared in his hands. They were golden torques, a sharp arrow at each end poised towards where Nesta and Eris’s throats would be. From the second they appeared, you felt a darkness creep into the room. And by the way Nesta flinched, she could feel it too. There was a sentience to them, as if they were speaking to you in an ancient tongue, each word coming out as a demonic hiss. 

“What the hell are those?” Nesta muttered, her breathing shallow.

“My insurance policy,” Beron smirked. “A way of ensuring you never even think of pulling a stunt like this again.”

Something clicked in your brain as you recognized what the torques were. Fear hit you like an icy wave, and you frantically reached out to Nesta. Don’t let him put those around your neck, You mind-spoke to her. Whatever you do, do not put it on. I’ve read about objects like these. They come from another world and will enslave you to Beron. Your free will would be gone and you will become his puppet with no way out.

You vividly recalled finding the ancient scroll in the House of Wind’s library. It was nearly completely faded, but with Gwyn’s help you managed to make out the text. It spoke of another universe, one infested with demons that used dark objects like rings and collars to enslave and possess people with dark magic, allowing a new host to take over. From the way Beron smirked at Nesta and Eris, it was clear that the objects in his hand possessed the same properties.

How the hell he managed to get his hands on something like this, you didn’t know.

“Now kneel before me, both of you.” Beron continued coldly. “And beg for forgiveness.”

Nesta looked back to you, desperation in her eyes. You only stared back hopelessly, knowing there was nothing either of you could do at this point. You slumped against Azriel, the Illyrian still as a statue, shadows swirling around protectively. His siphons continued to glow, but you knew Beron wouldn’t break a sweat ripping through his shield. 

It was over.

All your planning, everything you’d done to get to this point, was all for nothing. Beron was about to kill you and enslave Nesta and Eris for eternity.

“Leave.” You muttered to Azriel softly. “There’s no use in you dying with me. Get out of here.”

You felt oddly calm in the face of death. Even though you were utterly powerless in this situation, you could at least make sure that Azriel was able to get out. He had helped you enough, you weren’t about to let him be dragged down with you.

But the shadowsinger’s voice was firm as he spoke. “Don’t,” He said sternly. “I will not let you get killed.”

You sighed as his shadows curled around your fingers reassuringly, as if they were trying to provide some form of comfort. You took one last look at Nesta and Eris before closing your eyes.

“No.” Eris’s hoarse voice echoed throughout the chamber, making your eyes snap open.

With one last sorrowful glance at his mother’s body, Eris pushed himself up. Amber eyes steeled with determination as he stared down his father.

“What did you just say to me?” Beron growled.

“I said,” Eris’s voice strengthened. “No.”

The High Lord scoffed. “Wipe those tears off your face before you speak to me, boy. Love is weakness, your mother’s death is on your hands–”

Beron didn’t get to finish his sentence before the ground shook beneath you and angry orange fire erupted from Eris. Pure, unfiltered power filled the room as Eris let out a godly cry, flames rippling off of him in waves. It wrapped around Beron, smothering the High Lord’s every attempt to fight back. 

Beron may have more experience and magic, but it was no match for Eris’s rage. 

The dark cell was lit up in an orange light as Eris was enveloped in his own flames. They swirled around him like a suit of armour, different shades of red yellow and orange blazing furiously. Beron screeches as the waves of fire smothered him, burning his aged skin layer by layer.

You saw Nesta step towards him, silver flame in hand, ready to join the fight.

No, You said to her. Eris needs to do this on his own.

She paused, then nodded, taking a step back. 

Eris’s fire was relentless, surging into his father with all their might. His lip was drawn back in a snarl as he continued to cast his flames into Beron, burning the male alive. He looked like a flaming god, a phoenix of hell sent to remake the world with his fire. You covered  your ears with your hands, trying to block out the sickening screams of Beron. Instead of watching, you buried your face into Azriel’s side. As much as you hated Beron, this was not something that you wanted to bear witness to.

The roar of the fire was thunderous, threatening to overwhelm all your senses. It shook your very bones like an earthquake. Only when you felt it cease, did you finally open your eyes.

There was a pile of ash where Beron Vanserra once stood, the gut-churning smell of burnt flesh potent in the air. Angry scorch marks adorned the walls and floor from where Eris’s flames had been minutes ago as they had relentlessly torn away at the High Lord. Eris was doubled over on the floor, Nesta crouching by his side.

“Eris?” She asked worriedly as the male gasped.

A soft glow emitted from Eris’s skin, and he writhed in agony as new power flowed through him. The power of a High Lord.

You watched in awe as the scent of raw magic filled your senses, its coppery taste in your mouth as you breathed it in. You could see Eris’s veins through his pale skin, shining like gold as his body was encapsulated in magic. After a minute, he stopped moving. You could hear his heartbeat, so slow it made you break out of Azriel’s arms and rush forward.

You called out his name, crouching down beside Nesta and putting a hand on the autumn male’s arm. Immediately, you jerked it back. His skin was burning hotter than anything you had felt. He was utterly still, almost dead looking beside his mother.

As a final resort, you opened up that part of the bond you had tried to seal shut. Eris? You called out to it. A powerful hum pulsed in response, unlike anything you had ever felt before. You could feel Eris on the other end – different than before, but your Eris nonetheless.

You felt Nesta’s presence too, her silver mist of the bond reaching down towards Eris as well. In the distance, through that mental bridge you could see a faint silhouette writhed in orange flame. You extended a hand towards it through the bond, reaching out for Eris. Nesta did the same, and together, you reached down the bond and grasped onto Eris, giving a gentle but firm pull.

Amber eyes shot open and Eris gasped for breath as he woke. 

“Thank the Mother.” You muttered. As much as you were mad at Eris for keeping the bond a secret, you couldn’t imagine what you’d have felt if he didn’t wake up. For him to die thinking you hated him… it was something you couldn’t handle.

With the help of you and Nesta, Eris rose to his feet. A new aura of power surrounded him, the unmistakable magic of a new High Lord.

Beron was dead, and his magic had chosen Eris.

“Are you really…” Nesta asked, grey eyes scanning Eris up and down. “High Lord?”

Eris nodded, unable to speak. But the powerful glow in his eyes faded as his gaze landed on Lirilla’s body, still crumpled on the floor. “It doesn’t matter.” He muttered. “He killed her. With his bare hands.”

Your heart broke even more hearing the defeat in his voice. This was a moment Eris should have been celebrating – it was something he spent years trying to achieve, yet he paid a price for it.

No. You wouldn’t let it end like this.

Carefully, you let go of Eris and walked over to Lirilla’s body. You knelt down beside it, brushing the auburn hair from her pale face. 

“What are you doing?” Nesta asked, confused.

“I want to try something.” You responded. Not bothering to explain, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You pictured that clearing in the village, the one in a dream-like state where you first met Estelle.

Please, Estelle, You called out to her. I need you right now.

Truthfully, you had no idea if this would work. Your conversation with the goddess could have been a one time thing. But you couldn’t imagine Eris risking everything to help you, only to lose his mother for good in the process.

After a few minutes of pleading, you felt your eyes open. But you were no longer in the dark dungeons of Autumn. Instead, you were on a bench in your village clearing, a gentle white mist covering the surroundings. You felt light and weightless, all aches and pains of your body having vanished.

“Hello, my child.” Came the familiar voice of Estelle.

You whipped your head to the side as the mists parted, the Mother goddess walking through towards you. Her white robes floated around her, eyes shining with starlight as her gaze landed on you. You bowed your head respectfully, and she laughed.

“There is no need for that.” Estelle said softly as she came to stand in front of you.

“Sorry.” You muttered, straightening your back. “But I really need your help.”

The goddess smiled sadly. “I know what you are going to ask of me. But I cannot bring the Lady Lirilla back.”

“I know,” You continued, taking a deep breath. “But I was wondering if I could. After all, you said that when Hybern attacked my village, I absorbed the life force of everyone that died, and that it became a power I could use to wield.”

Estelle did not say anything. She only stared at you with an unreadable expression.

“Please,” You begged, voice breaking. “She’s Eris’s mother.”

“My child,” Estelle’s voice was gentle but firm. “Lirilla suffered a hard life. Even if she were to be brought back, she would have a lot of trauma to deal with. Letting her rest may be the kinder path.”

“No.” You said sternly. “After everything she went through she deserves a chance. Feyre Archeron was brought back, as were Rhys and Amren during the war. How is it fair that they get to be brought back after death and Lirilla doesn’t?”

“Not everything is meant to be fair.”

You stood up, facing the goddess with a steeled expression. Anger boiled in your gut at her refusal to help. “Look,” You snapped. “I came here asking you for guidance, not permission. I may be an incarnate version of you, but I am not tied to your decisions. This is my power to do with as I please, so I am asking you once again: could I use it to bring her back?”

You half expected Estelle to get angry and send you back to reality, but she just looked at you with a sombre expression. “So young, so determined.” She muttered. “You remind me of myself when I was your age, all those millenia ago. I will not stop you, but it is not simple. In order to bring Lirilla back, you must do a trade – find a soul who died that day in your village who is willing to give up their eternity of peace. While you can bend this power of life to your will, the life forces of those who you absorbed still belong to them.”

“A soul for a soul.” You muttered.

“Yes. That is the only way you can bring her back in a manner that does not utilise dark magic and risk severe consequences.”

“Ok. How do I find a soul then?”

Estelle smiled softly, putting a soft hand on your cheek. “You have been so brave and endured so much.” She murmured. “Good luck, my child. May we meet again.”

“Wait–” Your protest died off as her starry image faded into the mist. You huffed angrily, wringing your hands together. Time was running out – you had no idea how long you would stay here, but you were determined to make the most of it.

Gathering your wits, you stepped through the mist along the path that led to the heart of your village. Your feet made no noise on the ground, as if you were a ghost. Eventually, the mist began to lighten, and you heard lively chatter in the distance.

You broke into a full on sprint, racing towards the noise. As you went through the archway of your village entrance, the sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks.

Children were playing games under the large willow tree, their laughter echoing on the gentle breeze. Elderly couples sat on the benches, content to enjoy the sunshine. Smells of freshly baked bread and rich flowers filled your nostrils, and your eyes watered. Your village was lively again, the faces of those you had seen bloody and dead now filled with life as they once were.

“Hey, bitch!” The familiar husky voice of your best friend Sapphyra sounded in your ear as strong arms wrapped around you.

Nothing could stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks as you felt Sapphyra hug you. Sobs wracked your body as you clung onto her, savouring every inch of her presence. Her dark hair was pulled back in its usual braid, her muscles even leaner than when she was alive.

“It’s you…” You sobbed. “I can’t believe it’s you. Last time I say you–”

“Hush,” She said gently, pulling away and holding you by your shoulders, as if sensing you needed grounding. “We don’t talk about that here. None of us speak of the day we died. It’s not something any of us wants to remember.”

You wiped your tears away. Your heart swelled, seeing her filled with life again.

“I know why you’re here.” Sapphyra said. “You want one of us to trade our souls to bring Eris’s mother back.”

You nodded. “I can’t let her go, Sapphyra.”

“I know. But there’s something you should know. Whoever helps you bring her back will lose their spot in the afterlife. If Lirilla dies, that soul will not return here. They will be gone forever.”

You blanched, guilt prickling your heart. “How am I supposed to ask anyone here to do that for me? It’s not fair to them.”

She smiled. “I don’t think you’ll have to ask. We’ve all been watching you, rooting for you on our end of the universe. There will be somebody who is willing to give up their spot in eternity to help you. I promise.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Now, enough of me. You only have so much time here, so make the most of it.” Sapphyra clapped you on the back, pushing you towards the crowd that had gathered at your arrival.

You spent the next few minutes receiving more hugs than you ever had in your entire life. Fae of all ages holding your hand, wishing you the best and saying how proud they were of you. You did not idle for small talk, knowing Sapphyra was right. You only had so much time.

A familiar male made his way through the crowd, a tender smile on his face. “Hey, kiddo.” He said softly.

Your throat closed up. “Father…”

You leapt into his arms, clinging onto him like a child on their first day of school. He hugged you tightly, your tears staining the pale green tunic he wore as you sobbed into him.

“I am so proud of you.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. “You have fought so hard. Harder than you should have to.”

“I’m tired, dad.” You said quietly. “I’m so tired.”

“I know. But the hardest part is over. You just have to figure out how to move forward.”

You let go of his embrace, staring up at his green eyes sorrowfully. “I miss you.”

He smiled. “I miss you, too. But there’s someone else who wants to see you, and you don’t have much time. Go to the house. She’s waiting for you.”

Your father patted you on the back, gently steering you in the direction of your family cottage a few feet away. It took everything in you not to turn back for one more glance at him as you made your way up the steps and pushed open the door.

There, in the living room of your cottage, stood your mother. A soft smile on her face, devoid of the blood and gore you had last seen on it as she died. It was the straw that broke you, and you crumpled to the floor in front of her. “Mama…” Was all you could choke out as she wrapped her arms around you.

“It’s okay, honey. I’m here.” She murmured, stroking your hair. “Oh, my sweet girl…”

You didn’t know how long you stayed in her embrace. It felt like forever, but not long enough as she gently pried you off of her.

“There’s so much I want to say, but we don’t have the time.” Your mother said urgently as you leaned into her touch, afraid to let go. “You came here to save another person from losing their mother, did you not?”

You nodded.

“I may not have been able to help stop any of the horrible things that happened to you,” She said sorrowfully. “But I can help you with this. Let me be the soul who will bring the Lady of Autumn back.”

Your heart dropped. “No.” You said firmly. “Sapphyra told me that whoever helps me will lose their spot here in the afterlife. If I die I won’t see you again.”

She smiled, eyes lined with tears. “I know that, my love.”

“But you’re finally at peace.” You sobbed harder.

“Which will be for nothing if I do not use it to help my daughter.” Your mother insisted. “I know what it’s like to lose a mother. And so do you. And so does Nesta. If we can spare Eris that pain too, that is a sacrifice I will gladly make for your mate.”

You took in a shaky breath. “Me, Nesta, and Eris… all being mates. You don’t disapprove or think it’s weird?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, I do not. I think you deserve all the love this world has to offer you. I am happy for you, (Y/N). And I want you to live a long and happy life with both your mates at your side.”

As much as you wanted to bring Lirilla back, your heart shattered all over again at the thought of losing your mother twice. “Please…” You cried. “Please don;t leave me again.”

“I will never leave you,” She promised. “By doing this, I will be even closer to you than I am now. I will always be with you.”

“Will she know it’s you?”

“No, she will not know whose soul brought her back. But you will. And you’ll have a piece of me with you down there in Autumn.”

Your head ached from the tears you had been shedding. Your kind, selfless mother was willing to trade a peaceful eternity with her husband and community, all so your mate could have his own mother.

You wanted to say no, to demand somebody else does it. But you remembered Estelle’s words, how a soul had to be given willingly. Your mother offering her own as a trade was your only chance.

“Are you sure?” You asked, cherishing the sight of her kind face for the last time of your immortal life.

Your mother nodded. “A thousand percent.”

You could barely get the words out. “Then tell me what I need to do.”

“In a minute, you will go back to your world. I will fade into a ball of light, summoned into your hands. I want you to press it to Lirilla’s heart, use your magic to push it into her body. I will do the rest. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. It’s time now. Come here.” She pulled you into one last hug, the final embrace your mother would ever be able to give you in her current form, even if you died one day and joined your people here in the afterlife. Her comforting scent of jasmine surrounded you as you clung onto her.

A gentle, white light began to glow from her skin, and you sobbed harder as you felt her slowly begin to slip away.

“I love you.” Were the last words to leave her lips as the light consumed you both, and you tumbled back into darkness.

 *********************

When you opened your eyes again, the stifling smell of the dungeon washed away the blissful memories of the village. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and your vision focused finally. Nesta and Eris were crouched across from you on the other side of Lirilla’s body.

“(Y/N)?” Eris asked. “Where did you go just now?”

You didn’t say anything, too tired to even try and explain. You looked down at the Lady of Autumn, laying on her back in front of you. And then you felt it – that warm, jasmine scented presence compacted into a ball of light in your hand. Slowly, you uncurled your fist to reveal it, and its soft light filled the room.

Nesta’s eyes widened. “What is that…”

“My mother…” You choked out, curling your other hand over top of the small bulb of light. “She offered her soul in exchange… it’s to bring your mother back.”

Eris’s jaw went slack. “(Y/N)...”

“Don’t…” You cut him off, not wanting to cry again. “Don’t make this harder. Let me do this for you, please.”

The new High Lord paused for a moment, then nodded, sorrow filling his eyes as he observed your tear stained cheeks. You took a shaking breath, pressing your light-filled hands to Lirilla’s chest, just above her heart.

A soft sound like a dewdrop hitting a puddle echoed throughout the dungeon, and you closed your eyes and willed the light to spread.

And spread it did.

A white glow washed under Lirilla’s skin, expanding from her heart down her arms and legs, before finally coming over her face. The scent of jasmine and starlight filled the air, a bittersweet reminder of what this had cost. A gentle breeze caressed your cheek, its presence unmistakable.

Thank you for letting me do this. It seemed to say.

As the light faded, the Lady of Autumn’s eyes opened as she inhaled a breath of life. You fell back, breath shuddering as the world spun slightly. Your legs were wobbly as you pushed yourself back up. You staggered backwards into Azriel, who helped you regain your balance. You turned to thank him, but his hazel eyes were fixed on the scene before him, utterly shocked.

Eris let out a cry of relief, reaching forward and grabbing his mother’s hands, which now were bright with warmth. “Mother?”

“Eris?” Lirilla croaked, looking around frantically. “Your father…”

“He’s gone.” Eris said through tears. “I killed him. You don’t ever have to be afraid of him again.”

Lirilla’s eyes widened, and she sat up with the help of Eris and Nesta. “I… I was dead, wasn’t I? He killed me. How…”

While Nesta helped the Lady of Autumn stabilise herself, Eris walked over to you. Your throat was dry, your legs so weak you relied on Azriel to help hold you upright. Between the mental exhaustion of your ordeal and the physical toll the magic took, you were utterly spent. But you met his gaze, wanting to say a hundred things to him at once. But nothing came out.

The new High Lord dropped to his knees before you, grabbing your hands and pressing his forehead against them. “I am indebted to you for the rest of our eternal lives, (Y/N).” He said. “There are no words in any tongues I know to properly thank you for what you did. For what you sacrificed to do this for me. I…” His voice trailed off.

You crouched down in front of him, gently removing your hands from his and cupping his face. “You’re my mate, Eris.” You said softly. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

As you wrapped your arms around the sobbing male, you felt the glow of the mating bond in your chest, brighter and stronger than ever. Nesta appeared beside you, pulling both you and Eris into her arms as she let out a sigh of relief. 

You felt the bond between you and her glow, too. Each rope led to the two fae in your arms, all glowing with equal strength and passion. There was no faltering, no weakness of one bond over the other. They were all the same – all pure, unfiltered love.

As Eris pressed his head into your chest, you leaned your own head on Nesta’s shoulder, the presence of your two mates soothing the raw ache in your chest from your mother’s sacrifice.

You did well, child, Came Estelle’s faint voice in your head. Everything will be okay.

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[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 19)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 7,943

Summary: Javier and Horacio deal with the aftermath of a fraught morning and try to make the most of life in Madrid. Meanwhile, Señora Romero and Chucho have some words of wisdom (as usual) for them.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Emotional smut (including ass play, spanking and aftercare), brief discussions of PTSD symptoms and healing, grief and parental loss, discussions of sexuality/coming out, allusions to period-typical and historical prejudices, smoking, swearing.

Notes: So, here's the second part of their Madrid adventures at last! But where to next? 👀 I'm currently working on chapter 20, which is taking a while because life, and also I swear the closer to the end I get, the harder it is to write lol.

Thank you once again to anyone still reading, or anyone who has recently jumped on board this emotional rollercoaster. I'm blown away by the comments I've received over the last couple of years and I still love hearing from people, so please feel free to drop me a line if you'd like to ❤️

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested. 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 19: In The Same Boat

After breakfast and back at their apartment, Horacio took a shower, relieved to finally be rid of his running clothes now that the sweat had long since dried.

Javier soon joined him, capturing his waist from behind as eager lips met salty wet skin.

Horacio didn’t question why Javier was on his second cleansing of the day, instead nudging against the ridge of his shoulder, letting the steam envelop them and the hot jets wash away the stress of an eventful morning.

They wanted answers about what happened in their absences, but for now, their bodies did the talking. They gave into unspoken needs and an insistent craving to be as close as possible now further hurdles had been overcome, even if they weren’t sure which ones yet.

If Javier was hungrier and more demanding with what he took, Horacio indubitably noticed but didn’t object. How could he mind Javier’s nails scraping and scoring, marking Horacio like conquered territory?

Or the way he crouched between Horacio’s spread legs, parting generous handfuls of firm flesh, mouthing and biting with fervour along each buttock towards their inner seams, the bristle of facial hair scratching in all the right places.

Javier was guided by the moans above him as his nose pressed forwards, licking a trail north and south, alternating between flattening his tongue and outlining meandering patterns, skirting down to Horacio’s perineum and back up. Because anything less wouldn’t have been enough.

All Horacio could do was steady himself against the wall with one hand, the other rolling over supple skin and the taut ridges of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, ebbing and flowing like the Sierra de Guadarrama, a bittersweet reminder of his Andean homeland on their doorstep.

He engulfed and tweaked his nipples, journeying below the soft slope of his stomach and groin, fondling his balls, his fingers briefly making contact with Javier’s mouth and grounding them instantly.

A desperate growl rumbled through Horacio’s chest as he clenched his fist around the shaft of his cock and tugged in time with Javier lapping at the tight ring of muscle until he broached it. Shallow thrusts to begin with, increasing the depth and pace the fiercer Horacio shook and shuddered.

Javier never grew tired of being the one to reduce Horacio to a lascivious wreck, knowing it was an honour exclusively bestowed upon him, made even sweeter now they were no longer looking over their shoulders, waiting for a cruel twist of fate to intervene.

With that thought fresh in Javier’s mind, he didn’t hold back, devouring with ravenous greed, the ache in his knees insignificant compared to the sounds he was drawing from Horacio, who was all wounded grunts and choked back sobs, and it was music to Javier’s ears.

It didn’t take much for Horacio to fall apart on the fire of Javier’s tongue and the ice of his own iron grip, his eyes screwed shut and his spare hand thumping against the porcelain tiles as he came with a silent cry, teeth clamped down on his bottom lip for the benefit of their neighbours.

Once Horacio had recuperated, Javier peeled himself off the floor and manoeuvred them under the faucet, their mouths fusing together as they rinsed off. There was no let-up, the rough collision of limbs building momentum until Javier’s breathless invocations echoed as loudly around the room as the sweet percussion of a palm against his ass, a slow burn blush blooming with each prayer answered.

“Are you sure?” had been Horacio’s first question, always compelled to check in whenever Javier displayed vulnerability like this.

But Javier was certain. He needed it in the way his lungs sucked on air. Needed Horacio to hold the reins now, to clear his mind so he could focus on the present. On every sensation, word of encouragement and exhalation. To leave physical evidence on Javier’s body, an undeniable reminder that Horacio was here, safe, and trusted to take care of him precisely how he desired.

So, who was Horacio to refuse? Not when Javier’s supplicating gaze scorched his own, kindling an inscrutable and mortifying urge to sink to his knees and recite the Pledge of Allegiance.

But instead, he positioned Javier facing the tiles, smoothing his hand back and forth, massaging each pert cheek to stimulate the blood flow, letting the anticipation build because he knew that was part of the thrill for Javier, not knowing when he would strike.

Seconds of stillness followed; the steady stream of water the only sound to be heard until Horacio permeated the silence with the flat of his palm.

He started off with little more than a mild tap, gauging where Javier was at, easing into it and letting him dictate how far this went.

A series of progressively bracing swats came next, alternating from side to side, caressing the areas he targeted as a balm to the prickling heat. “You’re doing so good for me, Javier,” he praised, his free hand stroking up and down Javier’s back in reassurance. “Tell me what you need.”

Javier’s forehead rested on his hand against the wall, his teeth wedged into his fist whenever Horacio let loose. “I need more,” he stated after taking a deep breath, knowing Horacio would waver in granting his request without such succinct clarity.

Several more vigorous slaps ensued, causing something between a huff and a groan to release from Javier’s throat as his body jerked and his cock twitched. “Harder,” came his response no sooner had the vibrations reached the seat of his ass.

Horacio took his time despite Javier’s demand, subduing with delicate circles as though polishing fine glass, allowing the cascading water to counteract the sting.

There was an agonising pause, rendering it impossible for Javier to second guess when it would end until it was too late.

A crystal clear thwack crackled through the air, followed by another and another, sending Javier into a wave of spasms that left bite marks on the back of his hand and tears welling in his eyes.

He was sure there must be pain buried beneath the pleasure that he would feel later, but for now, he was floating, delirious, gone. Fuck any drug the cartels had to offer because no way in hell could it ever be as good as this.

But he was determined not to take himself in hand or grind against the tiles; that was too easy. This required complete concentration and discipline, reducing Javier’s existence to nothing but Horacio’s touch and his response.

“Horacio, please.” He panted out his final beg for mercy, knowing it wouldn’t take much more to bring him home.

Horacio couldn’t be sure if it was the light glinting in the trickling water droplets, illuminating the imprint of his hand that had him fraying at the edges, or how his palm tingled, triggering a chain reaction all the way down to his groin again. But before he could stop himself, he covered Javier’s back with his body, his left hand meeting Javier’s on the wall.

The scent of Javier’s shampoo was potent, intoxicating, and lethal as Horacio buried his face in a mass of thick, damp hair, almost knocking the wind out of them simultaneously. They kept still, both trying to deepen their tremoring breaths, Horacio counting to 10 in his head and Javier closing his eyes in preparation.

Horacio retreated, leaving his left hand connected with Javier’s whilst his right resumed its position, gently cupping and kneading, teasing his knuckles between Javier’s cheeks.

There was a lull in movement, the tide receding as a prelude to the incoming tsunami, their pulses deafening in their ears as time froze and suspended them in a torturous self-imposed vacuum.

But then a seismic release set them free, plunging Javier’s weight against the tiles, no amount of chewing on his fist able to suppress the whimpered cry or control his quivering form as he came with Horacio’s name somewhere on the tip of his tongue but lost amidst the onslaught of concentrated bliss.

He couldn’t move even if he wanted to, merely trying to breathe whilst Horacio removed the shower hose from its cradle, letting the restorative warmth of the water soothe the tenderness, the temperature gradually reducing to lukewarm then cooler once Javier was accustomed to it, extinguishing the flames.

Horacio dried them off, dabbing the towel meticulously over Javier until he replaced it with chaste kisses then sweet almond oil, mapping a path across his ass, covering every inch, and taking extra time with the rawest patches of skin. He needed this part of the ritual as much as Javier did. Needed to be the caregiver at both ends of the spectrum and to still be touching Javier because that was what he needed in return.

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They delayed dressing in favour of entangling themselves beneath the bedsheets after rehydrating and sharing a bowl of fresh strawberries bought from their favourite food market the previous day. It wasn’t as though they had anywhere to be, after all.

A solitary cigarette passed between them, the only nicotine-fuelled vice of the day worth having anymore. It was customary for either man to trace patterns through chest hair as he took a drag, their fingers and lips meeting somewhere in the middle, transferring cigarette and smoke in one smooth motion.

Their cigarette was now stubbed out in the ashtray by the bed, swapped for playing with each other’s hands whilst Javier lay tucked into Horacio’s side.

His fingers skimmed over the coarse edges of Horacio’s, sliding to the softness at the centre of his palm, then down to his wrist. Javier lingered until he got what he came for, the slow, steady beat keeping his own rhythm in check after a fraught start to the morning.

From there, Horacio dusted kisses across Javier's knuckles until Javier unfurled his fingers, offering them up for the same treatment, and Horacio gladly obliged.

It could have been minutes or hours they lay like this, lost in touch, neither wanting to break the spell.

But as Horacio’s hand snaked up Javier’s torso, pausing to play with the warmed silver chain, he folded first. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“You don’t need to apologise for being cornered. These things happen.”

“It wasn’t just that, though.” Horacio stroked his thumb over the surface of the cross. For comfort or courage, or both, he wasn’t sure. He explained everything about Álvaro, even down to the disconcerting parallels he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. “He could’ve been me, Javier. He was me. And if it hadn’t been for you – for us – I think he still would be. Either that, or I’d be dead.”

“But he’s not you. You’re not that man anymore. Look how far you’ve come, Horacio. You got out. And you found your inner cowboy.”

Horacio gave Javier a withering look, ignoring the devilish spark in his eyes. “I’m not a fucking cowboy.”

“But that’s what you want, though, right? To be a rancher?”

Horacio had thought long and hard about this, especially when confronted with the ghosts of his old life. Any worries about being lured back in were swiftly abated. If anything, it confirmed what he, deep down, already suspected. “Yeah, I think I do. But only if you still want to move back to Texas.”

“I thought I’d never move back. But after I left Colombia, you seemed so at home. And for once, so did I.” Javier didn’t say the rest out loud because he didn’t need to. His book dedication had done it for him.

“I was,” was all Horacio managed to get out before he kissed Javier, unhurried and thorough.

“It’s not like I’ve got any career plans lined up elsewhere anyway,” Javier added once they pulled apart.

“There’s still time to figure it out.”

A knowing smile passed over Javier’s lips. “That’s what Señora Romero said this morning. After I fucking lost it because you were a few minutes late.” His smile morphed into a self-deprecating scoff, traces of embarrassment still left over despite the kindness he had been shown.

“What?”

Now it was Javier’s turn to open up; for the second time that day. He reclined against Horacio’s chest, the fingers stroking through his hair relaxing his mind and muscles as he talked.

“Fuck, Javier, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, no. It’s not your fault. And it’s not your responsibility to fucking babysit me. I was fine after a drink and a pep talk.”

Horacio strained his neck to meet Javier’s eye with an incredulous look.

“Okay, well, after that, then.”

“I didn’t go too far, did I?”

“No. It was perfect,” Javier replied without hesitation, meeting Horacio’s gaze head-on and with ease. A simmering afterglow had overtaken the initial sensitivity, but he was confident he would feel it for the rest of the day, maybe even tomorrow if he was lucky. “Was, er, was it good for you too?”

The luscious whip of his palm was still vivid in Horacio’s mind, along with Javier’s pleas for more and the spiral of his tongue as he fucked and feasted. Not to mention how the tension they had been carrying throughout the morning visibly dissipated in the aftermath.

“I think perfect just about covers it,” he replied, hunting down Javier’s mouth again before they collapsed into each other’s arms.

“Señora Romero’s been through a lot too,” Javier said after a soporific silence almost tempted them towards slumber.

“I know. She never talked about it much. But after the bombing, she mentioned Spain was always carrying old wounds.”

“I guess we all are. So, there are bound to be bad days sometimes.”

Horacio hummed in agreement against Javier’s forehead. “I should’ve been there with you, though.”

“You’re here now.”

Another string of kisses followed, the next more charged than the last. Because now wasn’t just tomorrow, the next day, week, month, or even year. Now was the rest of their lives.

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They could easily have whiled away the rest of the day in bed. But the sun’s heat had broken through the haze of early morning fog by lunchtime, and it was the ideal afternoon for a walk around El Retiro Park.

The park was rarely quiet, but it was vast enough to disperse the crowds into all corners. They started with the gardens and fountains, one, in particular, stopping them in their tracks.

“Well, that’s…striking,” Javier said, cocking his head and taking off his aviators to get a better look at the imposing statue in front of them.

“La Fuente del Ángel Caído. The Fountain of the Fallen Angel. It’s the moment Lucifer was cast out of heaven.”

Javier turned to Horacio with a raised brow. “So, are you an expert in all artistic impressions of the devil, or just this one?”

Horacio feigned an irked glare. “I used to run this way sometimes with it being so close to the Consulate.”

“Oh, well, that’s a relief.”

It was the truth, but at that time of Horacio’s life, there was a strange and dark affinity to be found with the story of a fallen angel in exile. Occasionally, he would stop to study the fountain in all its horrifying glory, a visceral reminder of why he was here.

They quickly moved on to the Palacio de Cristal, the weather optimal for the impressive architecture above them. Sunbeams descended a halo down from the glass roof, a hush spreading through the crowd as they craned their necks in awe. It gave the building the peaceful atmosphere of a church, but it was a world away from the harsh wooden pew Horacio had prayed in every week.

Without meaning to, his hand brushed against Javier’s as they stood side-by-side, barely a hair’s breadth between them, and too subtle to be noticed by anyone around them.

Javier didn’t flinch, didn’t even look in Horacio’s direction, yet for the briefest of moments, their fingers connected in a way that could have been passed off as accidental if necessary. But of course, they knew there was nothing accidental about them whatsoever.

They came to the lake next, sitting on steps that led up to a grand monument by the water. On the base of it lay a statue of King Alfonso XII with three smaller ones beneath representing peace, freedom and progress, a stark contrast to the Fallen Angel.

“I never found the time to come down here before, but it’s a beautiful spot,” Horacio said, wishing he was wearing his Stetson now he was having to squint in the sun.

“Yeah, it is.”

Somewhere between arriving at the lake and finding a free spot, Javier exchanged conversation for staring out across the water.

Whilst watching the hire boats glide backwards and forwards, out of nowhere, he was reminded of the river back home. The traffickers made it look as easy as a leisure pastime. Like they never got the memo about the turbulent currents that required navigating life as the Rio Grande did, flowing in limbo and helplessly watching the gulf between each side widen like a splitting wound.

Javier vaguely remembered hearing stories from his Abuelas and Abuelos about their journeys across the border. But it wasn’t a subject he and Chucho talked about much. Officially, that was due to Chucho being so young at the time, but unofficially, Javier wasn’t stupid. He knew of the bleak dangers and challenges involved with moving to el otro lado, as he often heard the other side called, more so now than back then, and he always suspected there were stories his Pops would rather keep to himself.

“Hey, you still in there?”

Horacio’s voice brought Javier back down to earth. “Yeah. Sorry.”

It was typical of him to be sitting here ignoring Horacio and the scenery in favour of daydreaming about the very place they came here to take a break from. Their late morning interlude had apparently taken it out of him, and he was already reverting to losing himself in thought rather than focusing on the present.

But as Javier went through the day’s events, his attention still on the lake, an idea came to him. He could sense he was being watched as a playful smirk took hold. “Fancy a ride?”

It didn’t take long for Horacio’s mind to wander, despite the fact he could plainly see what Javier was referring to. Always the tease, which he’d no doubt pay for later. “Only if you take it in turns with the rowing.”

“Deal.”

Soon after, they set off from the jetty in a pale blue and white rowing boat. Horacio took the oar first, the reason already paying dividends as he watched Javier trying but failing not to fixate on Horacio’s arms.

“Nice view out here,” Horacio deadpanned.

Javier cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, triggering a welcomed reminder from a matter of hours ago and handing victory straight to Horacio. “You could say that.”

That was all Horacio had wanted in the way of revenge because two could play at that game.

They rowed in comfortable silence, taking in their picturesque surroundings and the fact it was easy to be around others yet still be alone here. From a quick glance at other boating parties, there was a diverse mix of groups and couples, and no one appeared remotely interested in them for a change. It was an antidote to the heavy conversations and emotions from earlier, even if that had been a necessary step for them to take.

“Do you think this still counts as a bad day?” Javier asked now that Horacio had taken a break from rowing, letting them slowly drift in the deserted end of the lake.

“A bad start, maybe. But I think we might’ve just about salvaged it.”

“Me too.”

Their eyes met across the boat, the afternoon light casting them in a golden hue. Their feet were the only part of them touching, both a frustration and a catalyst. But they knew that would be rectified once in the privacy of their apartment.

“We better be getting back,” Horacio said with reluctance. “Especially as it’s your turn to row.”

That earned him a “Fuck you” and a splash of water in his general direction.

But Javier accepted the oar, and set a course back to the jetty, Señora Romero’s words still echoing in his ears.

Because she was right; they couldn’t always be in the same boat. It was unrealistic to expect otherwise. But they could work hard to be as much as possible. They could take turns to bear the load, be the other’s anchor and cherish the times they succeeded. And today was proof of that.

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In the week before Easter, there were celebrations across the city for La Semana Santa. Whilst Javier and Horacio preferred peace and quiet to the processions through the streets, they couldn’t say no to Señora Romero’s invitation to a festive meal.

As it turned out, they were also roped into helping with food preparations in exchange for an extra pitcher of lemonade and leftovers to fill their freezer up to the brim.

Señora Romero’s family were to visit the next day, so they made multiple batches, and it was all hands on deck. They prepared an array of dishes, including espinacas con garbanzos, empanadas, croquetas de bacalao, bartolillos madrileños, buñuelos de viento, flores fritas, and torrijas, passing along their contributions like a conveyer belt, Señora Romero issuing instructions without even looking up from her work.

“My Mamá would’ve evicted us from the kitchen by now,” Javier said after his first attempts at frying flores fritas resulted in a sea of uneven misshapes floating in the pan of hot oil.

“No such luck today, Javier. Try holding the mould for longer in the oil after each one. The batter won’t stick to it if it’s not hot enough.”

Javier did as he was directed. And lo and behold, Horacio soon was sprinkling sugar and cinnamon over light, crisp, fully-defined flowers.

“And give yourselves some credit,” Señora Romero continued, finishing cutting up her empanada dough and spooning filling into the segments. “Your tamales are delicious. My lot will be lucky if there are any left by tomorrow. You’ll have to tell me your secret.”

Repeating their success from Laredo had been a challenge in their apartment kitchen as it wasn't as well-equipped or organised as Chucho’s. There must have been something about the simple domesticity of the situation that appealed to them – or perhaps memories from the guesthouse – as they found a pleasing way to pass the time whilst their tamale fillings cooked, involving Javier sitting on top of the kitchen unit, legs wrapped around Horacio and their hips grinding together. They didn’t undress, the friction of their jeans enough to have the desired effect.

“Oh, just plenty of practice over the years.” Javier's tone was guileless, although the roguish expression he fixed Horacio with told another story.

The heat rising in Horacio’s cheeks rivalled the pot of oil simmering on the stove, and it was time to rescue the conversation fast. “Erm, yeah, the pork ones are my Abuela Margarita’s recipe. Alejandra and I made them every Christmas. My Papá would watch us like a hawk. He said it was so we didn't burn the house down, but I think he wanted to be first in line for the tamales.”

It seemed stupid in hindsight, but Horacio looked forward to his Papá checking up on them like that because it at least meant he was home and spending time with them rather than with his work. It meant he was proud of Horacio, even if it was in the most trivial of ways.

“My Mamá made them when I was a kid. Pop insisted on the beef being from our best cattle, though, because he always wanted the best for us." The mischief in Javier's eye had been replaced with something more earnest. That had been the one role his Mamá allowed his Pops to undertake when it came to the tamales, and it was a role taken seriously.

“So many of my family’s traditions started in the kitchen. Recipes I use in the café were handed down to me through the generations, ones I’ve made with care and love; over and over again. What better way to remember those no longer around?" Señora Romero broke off to place her tray of egg-washed empanadas into the oven. "And that would certainly explain it too.”

“Explain what?” Horacio asked.

“Your secret,” she replied with a simple smile, as though it was the most obvious statement anyone could ever have made.

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The morning passed in the blink of an eye as they filled the apartment with a tempting blend of aromas, and it was late afternoon when they sat down to enjoy the fruits of their labour.

Plates, bowls, and dishes filled the table, and they tucked into a feast that rivalled one of Chucho’s. Not that Javier dared to ever tell his Pops that.

Once they had eaten as much as their stomachs allowed and chatted over coffee long past sunset, Javier bid Señora Romero goodnight, taking two large Tupperware boxes of leftovers back to their apartment, a haul that would stave off hunger for at least a month or two.

Horacio stayed behind to help Señora Romero clear up the kitchen. He was the designated washer whilst she dried, on account of knowing where to put each item back in its rightful place.

Once all the cutlery, cups, and plates were washed, Horacio refilled the sink, a comfortable lull in conversation settling over them.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Señora Romero asked after she delivered a second load of dishes to be washed. “When I asked if there was someone back home.”

Horacio switched the tap off now the sink was full, concentrating intently on swirling soap suds and a cloth around the serving bowl he had plunged under water. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. You didn’t owe me an explanation then, and you don’t owe me one now. I understand when the newspapers have been no better than the days of Franco. And mark my words; those were dark, dark days.”

A righteous anger erupted from the surface in Señora Romero’s tone. It was one that Horacio had rarely heard but recognised and understood instantly.

“Spain’s old wounds,” he stated rather than asked.

“On good days, I like to think of it more as scar tissue.”

“Makes sense.”

“We used to hide people whenever there were raids. Sometimes you’d know why they were hiding. Other times, you didn’t ask; you just did it. Anything to keep them from harm. So, please know that you and Javier will always be safe here.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“How was it living in Texas?”

“There was gossip, a few looks and comments, as you can imagine. But Chucho, Javier’s father, was like – he treated me like family.”

“Sounds like we’d get along. And what about your family?”

“I, er, haven’t told them. Alejandra knows I’m here but not why or who I’m with. I never told her or my Mamá about Laredo either. So, I know I owe them the truth.”

“It’s your truth, and you decide if or when you share it with anyone else, Horacio. I can’t pretend to know your family, but if my child or brother had been through everything you have, I’d count my blessings he was alive and well. And happy.”

A palm landed on Horacio’s soapy hand resting at the edge of the sink, the last few dishes now cleared. He had no words to offer beyond thank you, even if that felt wholly inadequate.

He wished her goodnight, returning home to join Javier in bed, both wiped out after a busy day of good company and far too much food.

Horacio slotted himself in front of Javier, back to chest. Slow, deep exhales and groggy mumbles passed between them as Javier instinctively scooped Horacio closer to him, an acknowledgement of each other’s presence without the expectation of conversation.

Javier soon fell back to sleep, leaving Horacio caught somewhere in the middle as snapshots that could have been dreams or memories – or both – played like an old slideshow in his head.

In one, he and Alejandra were kids again, flicking water from the kitchen sink and squealing with delight. He couldn’t see them, but he knew their parents were in the next room as faint traces of their voices travelled through the house.

In another, Horacio was his current age, standing at the sink in what he remembered of Alejandra’s kitchen in Manizales. Every surface was piled high with dishes waiting to be washed and dried. A flash of movement in the corner of his eye revealed his Papá walking briskly across the room, his police uniform a vivid green even though the outline of his form was incorporeal.

Horacio followed and called after him as they made their way through the house, but there was no response. He looped back to where he started, his father now gone as he stood by the sink with hands submerged in hot, soapy water. He noticed the dishes stacked on the drainer were somehow clean, so pulled the plug, water whirlpooling down the drain until all that was left was suds…and a glint of gold. He reached through the bubbles until he was grasping his father’s necklace.

That was enough to pull him fully awake, the spasm in his limbs causing a chain reaction as Javier roused too.

“You okay?”

“Hmm, yeah, I think I was dreaming. I’m fine, though.” Horacio shuffled them around the other way, placing a reassuring kiss at the nape of Javier’s neck. “Go back to sleep.”

It was likely an exchange neither would remember in the morning. But as they settled down again, and Javier placed their hands over the crucifix at his sternum, Horacio swore he could feel an invisible weight around his own neck.

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The transition between spring and summer in Madrid was abrupt if you weren’t used to it. But one advantage to August was most Madrileños escaped to the coast or mountains for respite from the heat. It left the city emptier than usual, which was more than fine by Javier and Horacio.

It was a strange contradiction for them to seek refuge in a city as lively as Madrid when they preferred the tranquillity of ranch life these days, but city living brought anonymity. Las Posadas was like being under the microscope, whereas no one bothered them here.

Prime shaded spots in the park or the outdoor seating at cafés and restaurants were plentiful. And there were no problems hiring a boat at El Retiro Park before the hottest part of the day kicked in. Then they would hide out in their apartment during siesta hours.

It was doubtful if many people actually slept during siesta these days. But it did mean some shops closed for a few hours, and a general hush would fall over the city.

Sometimes, they would watch T.V. and old films or listen to the radio. Occasionally, Horacio would read aloud to Javier like last Christmas, the significance of Lorca’s words being spoken in their shared apartment, in this country not lost on them. On reflective days, it was rare but not unheard of for hands to connect, their cross clasped between their palms and their minds quiet.

There were also regular phone calls to Laredo, Miami and Medellín. It was funny; in the months they had been in Madrid, Javier had spoken more with his Pop than his entire time in Colombia. His Mamá was often a topic of conversation, Javier making sure to tell his Pops he’d been reading her book here as instructed.

“She always had her head in a book. And she always dreamed of travelling. She was like you when she was younger; she had her heart set on leaving Laredo. Even though your grandparents did everything they could to keep them here. But maybe that was why she wanted to spread her wings; I don’t know.”

“What changed her mind?”

“She met me.”

“Oh, well, good to know ruining lives is a Peña family trait.”

“Think of it as a gift, Mijo. I can’t take all the credit, though. She built herself a good community here. And then, she got involved with the farmers’ unions before she was ill. I think she was just getting started.”

They moved on to how Abuelito Mauricio never intended to settle permanently in Texas. He had left Abuelita Imelda and their brood – Chucho being the eldest – back in a rural town in Guanajuato, and he would send his wages home to them each month. Once the then-small plot of land he scrimped and saved to purchase grew, and made a profit, the rest of the family followed.

“What did Abuela Rosa and Abuelo Guillermo do again?”

“Your Abuelo ran a grocery store downtown, and your Abuela was a seamstress. She did more than that, though, especially in the ‘30s, when they nearly lost the store. Some of their extended family were repatriated back to Michoacán. And many of their customers left for Mexico too. So, they had no staff, and takings were down. Your Abuela managed every cent and dollar of their finances. She’d mend clothes for a small fee or in exchange for food to make sure they never went without.”

“Sounds hard.”

“It was. The ranch struggled too. There weren’t many workers left, and most people couldn’t afford a lot of meat. But we were luckier than most. Some never came back, and even those who did were strangers on one side of the border and a threat on the other. Things got ugly for a while.”

“What happened to the ones who came back?”

“They had to start from scratch again. Local charities were set up to help with travel costs, finding somewhere to live, reuniting separated families, that sort of thing. Your grandparents did what they could to help. It was your Abuelita’s idea to build the guesthouses. Your Abuelito took on labourers struggling to find work for the construction. Then they hosted a few families until they got back on their feet. I think that's why your mother wanted to keep them over the years – because someone always needs them.”

It wasn’t the first time Javier had been told about his family history, but it might have been the first time he asked. And it was strange how differently the same pieces of information could be interpreted depending on the stage of life in which they were shared. In his youth, it was hard to see the drawbacks of leaving Laredo. Because anywhere else had to be better.

But now, all he could think was how much of a throw of the dice it was. Too many families weren’t as lucky as his parents; they never got the option of crossing back over the bridge or pursuing the illusive American Dream. And if fate had decided otherwise, Javier could have grown up on the bank of the Río Bravo rather than the Rio Grande.

Chucho would also discuss ranch business with Horacio, updating him on staff changes, how the newborn calves were thriving, and the latest local gossip.

“Ciro’s thinking of selling up,” he informed Horacio one afternoon.

“Hasn’t he threatened that before?”

“Oh, plenty of times when his back plays up. Or when the weather’s on the turn. But Malena’s health isn’t so good now. And like me, Ciro’s not getting any younger. He was talking about moving closer to their daughter in San Antonio.”

Ciro and Malena Ortega owned the corn farm next door and had been there long since before Javier was born. They had always shared a close professional and personal relationship with the Peñas by selling them feed grain for the livestock and helping in any way possible during and after Mariana’s illness.

“Have they found a buyer? Or are we going to need a new supplier?”

“Not sure yet, to be honest, Mijo. I’ll keep you posted.”

They rounded off their catch-up with the latest on Luna’s, Sol’s and Leo’s adventures. But when Horacio discovered that Luna still waited outside the guesthouse door from time to time, he almost booked himself on the next flight to Laredo.

He had also managed to catch up with Trujillo a couple of times. But it was hard pinning down a busy Major tasked with clearing up whatever dregs were left of the Medellín cartel. After Steve opened his big mouth about Trujillo’s girlfriend, Horacio had half a suspicion he was being avoided deliberately.

In Miami, Connie was back in the E.R. part-time now Olivia was old enough for day-care. A promotion and countless commendations had been thrown Steve’s way since the New Year. If anyone suspected he was the source of the Cali intel – and both Javier and Steve knew someone would – they didn’t let on, apparently too busy getting off on the reflected glory of the Escobar circus.

“There’s a rumour we’re gonna be offered a fuckin’ book deal,” Steve said with a bemused snigger during one of their phone calls.

“A rumour from who?”

“My boss. My boss’ boss. Probably my boss’ boss’ boss. How about it, Javi? Fancy being an author now you’re unemployed? We could make a fortune.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” was Javier’s only response to that suggestion.

------------------------------------------------------

Regardless of what they did during siesta hours, one thing often led to another. They were hot and sweaty anyway, might as well fully commit or continue in the shower if the heat got too much.

Even though they didn’t have jobs to get back to, it was an indulgence to set aside time in the middle of the day for sex. It couldn’t have been further from their previous lives. But here, they could drag it out as long as they liked, teasing and edging each other, keeping their bodies still for as long as possible. It was as relaxing as it was arousing, intimate as much as it was erotic, and an apt way to spend downtime gifted to them by the city that once kept them apart.

This time, they had been reading on the bed before becoming distracted by lying mouth to cock in exquisite symmetry across the mattress. It was all bobbing heads and bucking hips swallowed down with muffled purrs of pleasure until they were satiated.

Fresh out of the shower, Horacio lay back on his pillow with a towel around his waist. From this angle, the mirrored wardrobe door reflected the image of Javier in the same attire as he shaved over the bathroom sink. There was still something sacred about witnessing the day-to-day rituals like this, and it was impossible to take them for granted.

“Did you always know?” Horacio asked once Javier re-joined him.

A vague question on the face of it, but Javier had already seen his copy of Giovanni’s Room on Horacio’s nightstand with a bookmark slotted in the centre of it.

“Not always. But there was this new ranch hand when I was about 10 or 11. He must’ve been 23, 24. I never spoke to him, just watched him work. I thought I wanted to be like him – I think everyone thought I’d follow in Pops’ footsteps back then. But, er, one summer, I walked in on him changing his shirt in the stables and,” Javier broke off with a boyish grin, “that was that.”

“So, that’s why you have a thing for cowboys.”

“Just the one cowboy these days, actually.” Javier shifted to face Horacio, fingers dipping beneath his towel seam until he squirmed. “Nothing ever happened with him; I was just a kid. I tried to ignore it, went to church, chased girls. And obviously, I couldn’t tell anyone. But it was always there in the background. Like some sort of...fucking unscratched itch. Then at high school, I met Antonio.”

Javier hadn’t said his name out loud in decades, but it stung more than expected. Antonio was Javier’s first…not quite everything, but it felt like it at the time. For almost two years, they were inseparable. They shared similar heritage and backgrounds, although Antonio’s family were crop farmers rather than ranchers. Not that it mattered when they had twice as much land to explore in the holidays or when Javier needed to escape the deafening quiet of the farmhouse now that it was just him and Pops. Or when they hid in the cab of one of Antonio’s father’s harvesters, passing a bottle of Chucho’s whiskey between them until they were drunk enough to take the plunge.

The following months were a whirlwind of exhilaration, fear, discovery and shame. Like the door had been unlocked on something that had never been a possibility until it was. However, they knew it couldn’t last. It had been a close enough call on the afternoon that Chucho came home earlier than expected. But the beginning of the end came when, without warning, Antonio’s family sold their farm and moved back to Mexico. Javier never did find out why, but once the place was up for sale, Antonio was no longer allowed to visit the ranch. And the only time they saw each other, and the only place they could say goodbye, was at school.

It was clear to Horacio that Javier wasn’t going to elaborate further. And if he wasn’t telling, Horacio certainly wasn’t asking. “I was in my first year at the Academy.”

“You about to make me jealous with stories of all the men in uniform you had your way with?”

“If you must know, there was just one…Andrés.”

Horacio hadn’t thought about him in a long time, a ghost from the past he preferred to keep there. He and Andrés were assigned to the same training barracks when they were cadets. There were supposed to be another two trainees sharing their bunkroom, but one withdrew his place at the Academy at the last minute; the other was a no-show at the first induction meeting and was automatically excluded.

Without the camaraderie of other cadets in their sleeping quarters, they had no choice but to rely on the other for company, which was no easy feat at the beginning when neither was particularly talkative. Bit by bit, they bonded over their work, discovering they both had fathers further up the ranks. It was often a bone of contention for other cadets, but that was never a problem between them.

There were subtle signs, lingering looks, and shared smokes even before they started gravitating towards each other in the shower blocks. Whilst there was an unspoken eyes-down rule that wasn’t worth a man’s life to break, when they were the last ones left under the spray, gradually, glance by glance, it was broken until their eyes locked, breathing hard, fists clenched by their sides. Nothing happened there and then, but it was a different story later that night behind the safety of a closed door and beneath starched sheets.

They never talked about it, couldn’t even if they’d wanted to, which they didn’t because there was nothing to acknowledge in the first place. Yet it happened again and a few more times after that, always under the cover of darkness, apart from one reckless time in the shower block when they didn’t have the discipline to wait, the thrill of it heightened and tempered by the possibility of being caught in the act.

But then, one morning, Horacio woke to find Andrés’ bed made and his belongings gone. He had requested and been granted a transfer to his father’s regiment without telling anyone. A perk of being a General’s son, Horacio supposed. He never heard from Andrés again.

“Even after him, I brushed it off as…circumstantial. An occupational hazard.” Disbelief caught in Horacio’s throat at the blatant denial in that sentiment, but it wasn’t like he knew better. Not when dread and nausea washed away any unnameable fleeting feelings that may have surfaced in his pre-Academy days. “Women were the only option, so I buried myself in work and tried to forget.”

“Before ‘81, right?”

“Yeah. So, maybe a blessing in disguise.”

“No maybe about it.” Javier’s sight line suddenly landed on the ceiling, even though he was the one who went there first.

This wasn’t a subject they liked to talk about, but there was no escaping the way the last decade and more had played out, even when they were neck-deep in the world of cartels and cocaine. Maybe now the dust had settled, and their minds weren’t so full of work, they were finally able to come to terms with all of it. Maybe now they could see so much of their pasts had been born out of fear.

“I still got tested when I was with Juliana, though. And with you.”

“I was the same after Lorraine. And definitely when I was in Colombia.” Javier couldn’t help but laugh, even though it wasn’t funny to think of those days anymore. Not because he was ashamed of sex, but he couldn’t deny it had been a sticking plaster at times. In his defence, despite the stance of the Catholic Church, he used condoms. Until Horacio, that was. “I never would’ve let you…if I hadn’t been sure.”

“Me neither.”

Horacio rolled on his side until they were face-to-face, his hand cupping Javier’s cheek, gently coaxing his gaze back to him.

Their lips met, both fully aware they had survived two war zones when the odds were stacked against them. When too many men like them hadn’t been so lucky. They had seen the headlines, the ostracization, the mishandling, and those in power looking the other way. But they were still here, alive and well. Surer of themselves and each other than ever before.

------------------------------------------------------

Javier sat down at the kitchen table, bleary-eyed and reaching straight for the pot of coffee left waiting for him, the rich scent alone beginning to stir him awake. As much as he preferred staying in bed wrapped around Horacio, that wasn’t the most comfortable option at this time of year. At least there was still shade to be found outside at this hour, and Horacio was to bring back a breakfast of hot, fresh churros from Café Romero on the route home from his run. So, Javier could hardly complain.

He was several sips into his coffee when a key turned in the lock.

Horacio came through to the kitchen carrying the churros and what appeared to be a newspaper with a small envelope perched on top of it.

“Perfect timing, I’m starving,” Javier declared as he grabbed the bag and divided the churros across two plates.

Horacio murmured a vague “Me too” in reply. But his attention was focused on the envelope, which was addressed to him in familiar handwriting.

He tore the edge of it carefully and pulled out a card, a proud smile spreading across his lips after just a couple of seconds.

“What’s that?” Javier asked as he dusted excess sugar off his fingers.

Horacio handed the card over without elaborating.

Javier read it and soon had a smile to match Horacio’s. “I take it we’re going, then?”

“Of course we are.” He joined Javier at the table, his stomach swooping like he had missed a step on the stairs. “But I think I need to make a phone call first.”

[ravs6709]

Won't You Shine With Me (Oh Distant Star Of Mine)- Hekster, Kam, Marelliana, Fedex

Act 1. Act 2. Act 3. Act 4. Act 5 (here). Act 6.

Or read on ao3 here!

Word count: 2.3k words

Act 5 to my revue starlight au! Main focus on hekster, not really on other ships, and this will continue for the next part too (also totally irrelevant but i've had constant polycule thoughts since the beginning. i do not confirm anything beyond the main ships but it is a thing that you can maybe sense if you squint really hard)

A short chapter, but it was necessary to end it off where I did (a lot has been working up to here). And the next chapter should be longer than usual since I need to conclude everything. I am so excited to write the next chapter, but it will take a bit to come out (i also need to focus on writing something else)

Warnings: censored swearing

•~•~•~•~•~•

ACT 5

SCENE 1

Stina woke up to Sophie staring at her.

"'s there something on my face?" Stina mumbled, half asleep. "How do you see in this dark?"

"It's nothing," Sophie replied.

Stina squinted. "You nervous 'bout the revues?"

"I can't not be. Everything rides on what happens next."

"Stop thinking too much, I told you that we'll make it through together," she mumbled, wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer. "I don't need you making me nervous."

"But—"

"Shh. Linh's sleeping."

Sophie closed her mouth.

"Foster?"

"What?"

"Why did you come to Foxfire?" It was something that Stina had to wonder. Why transfer schools? Why here? Why now? "You were surprised to see me, so it's not because of me."

"Well..."

"Did Silveny bring you here for the revues?"

It was the only explanation that Stina could think of. She didn't really understand the point, but Stina couldn't help but feel grateful anyways.

"Yeah," Sophie said.

Stina wasn't sure if it was because she wasn't awake enough yet, or if Sophie sounded a little odd. "Well, I'm glad you're here. So let's go back to sleep."

SCENE 2

"Excuse me?" Stina asked, walking into the mess that was her room.

"It's the final day of the revues," Linh said, "there's maybe two hours left until Silveny starts calling people down."

"That's why we should relax before!" Keefe declared, holding up a wine glass.

Stina narrowed her eyes.

"He's being dramatic," Tam explained. "I've already made sure."

"We're just drinking fruit punch," Dex added.

"We're minors, also I'm not doing the revues while drunk," Fitz chimed in.

"Where did you even get those?" Sophie asked.

Keefe smirked. "Stole them from the teachers. You'd be surprised what stuff teachers have in the staff room, you'd think they'd save the alcohol for at home."

"And nobody's gonna notice they're missing and think the students are illegally drinking alcohol?"

"Nah. It's not like I stole their actual alcohol, glasses are too innocuous."

"Well, alright," Stina said, sitting down beside Sophie.

Keefe pulled out more wine glasses, pouring in punch and giving them each a glass. "To fighting in revues, and not killing each other!"

Stina huffed out a laugh. All nine of them clinked their glasses together. They all made themselves comfortable, casually drinking their punch as they all just hung out in the room. Stina found herself really comfortable, and it wasn't just because Sophie had an arm over her shoulder. It'd been a bit, since she'd relaxed just like this. With the revues, the shining lights, the heart-pounding fights, it was so easy to get caught up on being on stage, fighting against the people she knew. 

But here they all were, just sitting on the floor in a bedroom, friends hanging out. Despite everything, despite the tension, despite the fact that they were all competing and many of them had lost to each other at some point of time, there were no hard feelings.

"What's up with this whole revue thing, by the way?" Stina asked. "We compete for the top, but what's the reward? Considering a talking alicorn exists, it'd be weird if it was just for the satisfaction of winning."

Everyone turned to look at her. 

Keefe snickered.

"You did join late," Marella murmured.

"You don't know?" Biana asked.

"You jumped on stage mid-revue and you didn't even know what they were for?" Tam asked.

"Stop laughing!" Stina huffed, taking a pencil off her desk and throwing it at Keefe. Then she turned to Sophie, "Tell me."

"Being the 'Top Star' means you can stand on the 'Stage of Destiny', you make your own destiny," Sophie explained.

"Weird," Stina said. "But okay, I guess. We're performing on a living stage that reacts to what we need, an alicorn hosts the revues, so it's not that weird."

"I'm gonna miss having a stage like that," Marella said.

"I totally agree with you, but don't catch Maruca hearing you say something like that," Biana chided, "she's been working hard backstage."

"It's just us in this room that know about the revues, right?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder if the teachers know."

"Oh yeah, because they always happen after school. Imagine if we had to leave during class. Or at 3 am. 3 am me singing would sound more like cackling."

"I wouldn't mind ditching."

"Of course you'd want to ditch class, Keefe."

"I'm just saying, besides, we'd be ditching acting to do more acting, I'm not sure what else I can say."

"The teachers don't know."

"It'd be crazy illegal to let nine fifteen year olds—"

"I'm sixteen."

"—thanks, Wonderboy. Eight fifteen year olds and a sixteen year old be unsupervised in a school's basement that is somehow larger than the entire top floor of said school. Also give them access to sharp weapons and whatever the stage decides to give us."

"Marella set the stage on fire."

"Hey, why not? If the school burns down isn't there some rule that says everyone passes all their classes?"

"I'm gonna kill it next time we have to do improv in class."

"Or maybe fighting for your life—"

"You make it sound like we're dying."

"—or fighting in general gets your brain working."

"Hey, Bangs Boy, let's buy our own swords and use them next time we do singing practice."

"That is a horrible idea."

"Are you turning down a chance to spend your parents' money?"

"...let's do it."

"Marella I am not letting you play with fire."

"Biana—I didn't even say anything! Stop laughing Linh, I'm not going to swim with you ever again if you're gonna make a face like that!"

Stina stayed quiet, relishing in this nice atmosphere. Just one more night, and then her and Sophie would shine as stars and... deal with whatever Stage of Destiny that was mentioned earlier, she supposed. She still didn't really know what that meant, but it was something to deal with later.

"Hey, Foster, don't look so gloomy," Keefe said. "Even if we lose to you, we're not gonna hate you."

Marella nodded. "You're one of us."

Stina turned to look at Sophie's reaction. She still looked nervous. Stina nudged her with an elbow again. "I told you not to overthink things."

Once they'd all finished their punch and they cleaned up a little bit, all of their phones rang.

"Let's go," Sophie said.

All smiles faded as they got up, because no matter how much they were friends with each other, they all knew that they weren't going to just let the other win.

SCENE 3

When five people arrived in the underground theatre, they were placed into the audience's seats.

"This is where Stina would have jumped in from," Tam remarked.

"Oh, probably," Linh replied.

"I guess that means we're not fighting anymore? Marella asked.

"I guess so," Biana answered.

Dex sat down. "I'm curious to see those four from afar, see what those four had that I didn't."

"It'll be fun, yeah. We'll get to see what they want as their Stage of Destiny."

Four spotlights shone on the stage, illuminating Keefe, Sophie, Stina and Fitz who were standing near a desk with two boxes on top.

As the five audience members all sat down, Silveny, who was beside them spoke. "Last day!"

Sophie looked confused. "Why are four of us on the stage?"

"Rules change!" Silveny said. "Top four! You four! Perform! Revue duets!"

"A... duet?"

Stina nudged her with an elbow. "Isn't that good for us?"

Sophie looked up at Silveny. "Yeah, it is."

"Keefe! Number one! Pick partner!"

Keefe strode up to the desk and picked up a box. He attached a golden button to his outfit, twirling a second on his finger. He grinned, looking at his three potential partners.

"Well, my partner will be, my dear F..."

His gaze landed on Sophie, and Stina worried that maybe her and Sophie would have to fight after all.

Keefe threw the button to his choice. "Fitzy!"

Fitz caught the button with ease. "Figured you'd choose me."

He pouted. "I didn't even surprise you with the fake-out?"

Sophie took the other box from the desk, handing a button to Stina. Stina attached it on.

The stage went dark again as they took their positions.

"In the darkness that makes up our stage, We shine like shooting stars! No matter the tragic events that come our way, We'll make it through every day! We are Foxfire students, Sophie Foster and Stina Heks! Our light will create the most dazzling night sky!"

"Us two stars shine brighter than all, Through song and dance will we enthrall. We've ascended all the way up here, We won't look back until we're in the clear! We are Foxfire students, Keefe Sencen and Fitz Vacker! We won't let our glimmer fade here!"

"One cloak fall on team! Whole team lose!"

"We need to be really careful then," Stina said to Sophie as she deciphered what Silveny meant by that. "But it's good that we don't have to beat them both to move on."

"Don't underestimate us!" Fitz said, starting his attack. 

Stina moved to defend. Sophie could deal with Keefe. It'd be better that way, the two people with polearms could go against each other, same with the two who used swords.

"Let this battle begin, no time to hesitate, A moment that will define our fate."

☆ REVUE OF DESTINY ☆

Stina blocked the attack, but she could feel the aggression that he came at her with. No wonder he'd been number one for so long. Even if she was above him at the moment in the leaderboards, she couldn't underestimate him. He'd only lost one. There was a reason his glimmer shone the brightest, but no matter, Stina hadn't come all this way for nothing.

She was forced back, and she could feel herself being backed towards where Sophie and Keefe were clashing.

"On this stage made up both you and me, Let us work towards our destiny."

The two boys sang that, trapping the girls.

"We're both standing here, look at how we've grown, On this grand stage I won't leave you alone."

Sophie and Stina sang next as they both spun, switching targets for a moment.

"Who do you think is going to win?" Linh asked.

Marella hummed. "Who do you want to win?"

"Well, we all have our biases. It'd be rude to admit who I want to see win."

"I want Keefe's *ss to be kicked, but I'd hate to see him lose too," Tam said.

Dex sighed. "Oh, I get you."

Keefe and Fitz jumped up into the air, avoiding the attacks, flipping as they aimed down at their opponents. Stina and Sophie moved outward, so now Keefe and Fitz were standing back to back.

"Not bad, Fitzy," Keefe said.

"We've known each other for a long time," Fitz replied.

The two linked hands as they spun around, swinging their weapons.

"Oh wow," Tam murmured.

"Childhood bonds, huh?" Stina mused.

"We've got that too!" Sophie added.

The stage began shifting to the will of the performers, and in turn, the performers adapted to it. The four actors all shined as their weapons clashed with each other.

"For the sake of those who chase after us!"

Keefe jumped onto Fitz's spear, and was launched into the air.

"For the sakeof our treasured promise!"

Sophie threw her sword into the wall they were running by, and Stina jumped onto it, pushing herself higher.

"We'll shine as bright as we possibly can!"

Stina and Keefe held their weapons out, prepared to swing. Once they were in range, they swung their weapons. A golden button flew in the air. They both landed. Keefe's jacket fell off his shoulder.

"Damn it," Fitz muttered, cutting off his own button.

Keefe sighed, head downcast. "Sorry, Fitz."

"It's fine... we did our best."

"Yeah..."

"Position Zero!" Stina and Sophie declared, stabbing their weapons into the ground. "We are Stina Heks and Sophie Foster!"

"Duet over!" Silveny announced, "Stina and Sophie win!"

Stina turned to Sophie. "See, Foster?" She took her by the hand and spun her around. "We're finally here."

The two started swaying gently as Stina led her through an easy dance; a dance with little flair, more hugging for contact to show the relief that she felt. Sophie didn't make the dance easy, looking at Stina with trembling eyes, her movements significantly less coordinated. The stage shook beneath them. The ground beneath them began to rise.

"What?" Stina asked.

"Last audition! Song! Dance! Compete! Shine! Brightest light! Become Top Star!" Silveny said.

☆ REVUE OF TRAGEDY ☆

Stina looked from Silveny, then back to Sophie, whose trembling eyes had hardened. "They never were that simple after all."

Sophie stepped closer to her, grabbed Stina by the sash and pulled her in for a kiss. In that moment, Stina's mind blanked as she returned the kiss, tight and desperate and not at all sweet, and oh, the revue said tragedy.

Stina pulled away. "Sophie, what does this mean?"

"I'm glad I got to see you again. That you remembered our promise. That your glimmer allowed me to shine on the stage once more. I won't let anything happen to you and your glimmer."

Stina could barely process the words, and by the time she did, a sword was swung at her, causing her to lose her balance and fall backwards. As she fell, her aiguillette was cut off; the golden button sent flying.

"Thank you," were the last words that Stina heard as she fell off the stage.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @keefeinnit , @my-swan-song , @impostertamsong , @subrosasteath , @when-wax-wings-melt

Want to be added/removed from the taglist? Just let me know!

[kuromochimi]

A Minute Too Late

Kageyama x Reader x Atsumu

Content & Warnings: college setting, fluff, angst, cursing, suggestive parts in the following chapters, please do not read if you’re not comfortable with talking about skinship and sexual topics!! smut, Please let me know if I missed anything! (Sorry for any grammatical / typographical errors. I’ll fix ‘em soon!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6: Final

Playlist

The sun was barely out, the wind still crisp and cool, the sound of chirping birds and the faint music from your airpods. It was indeed a beautiful morning.

You woke up early to go jogging to possibly release some tension. It’s been approximately a week since your talk with atsumu and roughly two weeks since you last saw kageyama. Ah, that’s right. You tried multiple times to wait for him to come back from training, in hopes that you could get him to talk to you but you always dozed off before you could catch him.

“Ah I’m beat” you told yourself while slowing your running pace.

“Hey!! Yn!!”

Looking back at the person calling you, you recognized that it was your classmate, hira.

“Oh hey hira! What’s got you up so early?”

“Had to do some org work, I reckon you went for a jog?”

“Yep, I was about to head back too. Do you want to grab something to eat?”

“Sure do”

The walk to the local bakery was pretty short since it was located only a few blocks away from the university’s gate.

“Are you going to class later?” She asked

“I don’t think I have to today. I already submitted my internship form and the place I’m interning at doesn’t need me yet so I’m free”

“You work fast. I still haven’t found a place to intern at”

“Then you should probably head back, you’re going to be late if you don’t”

You two decided to head walk back together and it astounded you how against you the universe was. The one time you were walking with someone else, you ran into kageyama. Without minding hira who was probably confused beside you, you stopped in your tracks in front of him. You were about to speak up when hari did so first. The words making it so that you were the one who was confused instead of her. "Oh tobio! Are you out for a jog too?" she mused.

wait, what?

"You two.. know each other?" confusion obvious with your tone

"Oh yeah. Met him like two weeks ago. I accidentally tripped and he was the one in front of me. I expected him to laugh but he helped me instead" she reached for his hair to try to ruffle it

You looked back and forth between your classmate and your "friend" or whatever the hell you two were. You weren't gonna lie, you were surprised. Kageyama was a generally reserved person and it took you a while before you finally got him to be casual with around you.

"Do you two know each other too?" Hira asked

"uhm I think he lives in the same dormitory complex as mine but that's it. I have to go by the way, I'll leave you two alone" you smiled, one you knew tobio didn't buy but you walked away, nevertheless.

Perhaps you were overthinking things.

That day, you didn't expect to see kageyama again. Aware of how you messed the situation up more than it already was, you accepted that perhaps your lack of skills with communicating would be the end of it all. The soft knock on your door bringing you back to reality, you made your way to open it.

"Yachi I swear to god if you forget your keys one more ti-"

The moment you opened the door, you immediately stopped talking upon seeing kageyama standing there.

"Hi" he said while looking anywhere else but at you

"Hi?"

"can I come in?"

"Of course"

You two sat on the couch for a good fifteen minutes before he spoke up.

"yn, I'm sorry"

"Why are you sorry?"

"I just voiced my self out but I didn't even give you the chance to talk. Not that I deserved your explanation but you might have wanted to say something and I just walked out on you and I've never done that you know-"

When he looked to the side to check if you were listening, he stopped talking upon seeing you in tears. Tears you weren't even aware about. Maybe it was the fact that he was finally talking to you again after two weeks of nothing or maybe because he finally spoke up about how he's feeling.

"hey are you alright? I'm sorry, come here" He pulled you into a hug. As much as this situation was unresolved at the moment, kageyama was used to comforting you whenever you cried. For a while now, he has been your comfort after all.

When you calmed down from your crying, you pulled away a little to be able to talk to him.

“Tobio, are you and hira close?”

“Hari? Oh that girl you were with earlier. No. I just really helped her that time”

It dawned on you that from observation so far, hira was indeed the type to be naturally comfortable with others immediately and perhaps, you let your emtions get the best of you again.

“Tobio, can I explain now?” you spoke while still enveloped in his embrace

“mhm” he hummed in response

“I don’t know how this is going to sound to you but I was with atsumu a lot because he was.. we were- I was sleeping with him”

“I knew that”

“Let me continue”

“okay”

“There weren’t any feelings there. I mean at some point I thought about it but I never really felt anything more than these stupid hormones”

“But you must have known, right? Atsumu-san genuinely likes you”

“he confessed but I just didn’t feel the same”

“Why not?”

“You dense ass hole, it’s because I like you. I’ve liked you for years”

Kageyama smiled and hugged you even tighter

Just as the moment was getting more affectionate, the door slammed open, hinata coming in uninvited.

“About time, fuck you guys took so long to get together, even I was getting tired”

“Fuck off hinata” Kageyama clearly annoyed with the disturbance

“I was getting so impatient watching you two miss each other’s signals all the time” yamaguchi added

You all hung out after that. Kageyama comforted you as well by admitting that while he was a tad hurt with you sleeping with atsumu at some point, he could look past that and come to terms with your feelings for each other. 

You and kageyama went for a little walk after dinner.

“I’m surprised you picked me over atsumu-san”

“I’ve picked you a dozen times over. Why do you think I’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“You rejected all those men who courted you just because of me?”

“Don’t say it out loud, it’s embarrassing”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m single too, I did the same thing”

“Liar. You were always single because you chose volleyball over your love life”

“Partially true”

You shared a light hearted laugh. You glanced up at him for a split second and his smiling, happy, glowing look made your heart flutter. After all these years and all that happened, it was always him for you. You took a hold of his hand and laced it together with yours.

“Hey tobio”

“What?”

“I love you. So so so much”

He was clearly taken aback

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know”

Kageyama felt the same but he was still processing everything and he appreciated how you understood that immediately with one look.

“Hey tsumu, wanna go out? I’m going to go and buy some ingredients” osamu asked

“sure”

“So? What’s going on with you and yn?”

“Ah her. We’re over. I mean we weren’t ever really a thing. I always knew she liked someone else.”

“Stop moping and get up”

“Tobio kun is better in a lot of things but I’m probably better at sex”

“Tsumu stop being an ass about this come on let’s go”

“Samu”

“What?”

“Let me be cheesy as fuck for a moment. I just want to find someone like that. A genuine person like her. Tobio is one lucky mother fucker that she’s head over heels for him”

“Damn my twin finally wanting to settle down with someone”

“Shut up”

“Not to praise you because fuck you but you’ve got dozens of ladies willing to talk to you or date you, right? Maybe start there”

“Maybe I should. Damn, if only I’d made a move sooner though. I might’ve been the one yn would choose, don’t ‘cha think?”

The question lingered in the air and was left there.

Safe to say, despite the rejection, atsumu was hopeful. He didn’t feel dejected. He confessed and tried but he knew some things just weren’t meant to be.

FLASHBACK

“Tobio-kun, you’re so lucky you have her”

“I know. Atsumu-san, thank you. For talking to her. And telling me all this too”

“Nah I did that for my own peace of mind”

Kageyama bowed and started to walk away when he was stopped briefly by atsumu’s words

“ Better treat her right or else, I’ll make a move again and win her heart for sure”

They both smiled, not another word uttered but an understanding definitely made because they both knew what their priority was: Whatever makes you happy.

a/n: finally finished this one, sorry it took a while for me to upload this last part, hope you liked this series! ^_^

Taglist: @ntimacy @candybabey @underratedmage @a-katsukitty

[sery-chan-13]

Knowing You Again

Chapter 6 of '100 Promises'

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Warnings: Swearing, bullying, I think that's it, let me know if I missed any

"Wow this place is amazing! So many games!" You awed, amazed by the amount of games and the lights. "Yeah, it's not anything like the one I went to on break, but since I can't take you there yet, I thought here would be good," he explained. "Thank you!" You exclaimed, hugging him and jumping up and down. He laughed, "Ok, ok. Calm down! What game do you want to play first?" You looked around, seeing all the different games, the people rushing from the machines and back. And you saw one that wasn't being used. You lead him over to it. "This one?" You asked. He nodded, and you two began on the game.

You walked into the grand lobby of the hotel, and sat on one of the waiting chairs. You watched in curiosity as people filed in their groups, cheering and laughing. Even if they'd lost a member, they were happy to be alive. A relief that it wasn't them. Maybe it was that everyone here had begun to accept their new reality. It made you smile in the slightest, that not all the people here were weak and useless. "Hey there new girl," someone said from besides you. "Hi Chishiya," you greeted without even turning to look besides you. "Hm? Attentive," he said. You didn't have to look to know he was smirking. "No, your voice is just very distinctive. It's soft, but also a very condescending undertone in it. Give people the illusion you know more than them," you stated, finally looking at him. "The hell did you study in college?" He asked with a laugh. "Major in forensics, minor in psychology. I'm pretty good at psychological mind fucking," you stated. He smiled, looking up. "Mind fucking? That's how I know you're friends with that idiot," he said. "Idiot? Niragi? No way. He studied game programming and engineering, and is 20 times smarter than anyone I've ever met," you said, surprised anyone could call him an idiot. How much did he change in the borderlands? Even then, his intelligence wouldn't have faded. So what did he do? "Hmm... maybe I'll change your opinion. You haven't met someone like me before," he said, looking at you. His eyes stared back into your own. It was like he was seeing into your soul, trying to really read into you. "I like a challenge. Impress me," you stated, a smirk playing on your lips. "Will do. Your friend is up on the roof for his patrol. I'll see you later at the pool. Kuina is quite fond of you. You two get along well," Chishiya said, walking off. You stood up, walking over to the grand stair case.

"I haven't slept in 4 days... gods help me," you groaned, running your hands up through your hair, it getting stuck from the knots. "Fuck me... SUGU! ARE YOU ALIVE?" you yelled. You heard a groan in response. He came out of his room, his hair sticking up every which way, his glasses were crooked on his face, and there were dark eyebags under his eyes. "I think... I think I'm alive..." he said. He was almost falling asleep standing up. "You need to take a nap," you suggested, standing up and walking over to him, yawning and rubbing your eyes. "No, I need to finish my project, you need a nap," he said, as you fixed his glasses. He could see that you were also running on no sleep. The dark eyebags under your eyes, your messed up tangled hair. It was different to say the least. You always looked nice, but college said no, please fuck up your sleep schedule to get this project done for me. Oh, and it a worth 75% of your grade! He hated school, but enjoyed what he was studying. Your projects took longer, and we're a bit gross at times, seeing as you had to take both forensics and psychology classes. "How about coffee instead then? I have a project to finish too..." you said, combing his hair out with your fingers, making it lay flat once more. "That sounds nice..." he muttered, the sensation of you playing with his hair almost making him fall asleep on the spot. "Yeah, I don't think you drinking that many energy drinks is healthy. Or not sleeping for four days. Let me get dressed, fix my hair, and we can head out, yeah?" You scolded at first, softening your tone.

"You look like shit," he insulted as you two walked to a coffee shop. "You're one to talk. When was the last time you washed your hair? Who are you, Snape?" You joked back, knowing his hatred for the character. 'He treated a kid like absolute shit because the kid's dad used to bully him in school. Oh, and his obsession with a girl who just saw him as a friend, but we're not going to talk about it.' He always said that when you asked him about why he hated Snape. It was funny to you because you had never met someone besides yourself that had that much genuine hatred towards a fictional character. "Ew, compare to anyone but him. Anyone," he said, genuinely grossed out by the fact you'd compared him to that character. "You really should take care of yourself more though. I need you to last me my whole life dude," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Mhm, if I remember correctly, promise 40 was if we were still 28 and we were single, we'd marry each other," he chuckled. You laughed. "Well, yeah. We keep our promises, you got that?" You said, punching his shoulder. "Ow, what was that for!" He whined, laughing. "I don't know. I don't want to go back to that apartment. I need to stay out of that, school is just... taking a toll on me. When we finish school and get jobs, I hope it's easier... Let's go on an adventure today," you said, leaning onto him. He thought for a bit. His project was almost done, and it was due in three days. He was running on no sleep, 5 energy drinks a day, and the occasional coffee you brought him.. Taking time off for you was worth it. He could finish the project tomorrow. You were worth that and more to him. "Sure what kind of adventure?"

"A little birdie told me you'd be up here," you said once you had opened the door to the roof. He turned around, facing you. "Really? Let me guess, Chishiya?" He stated. . He had his gun slung over his shoulder, and looked around boredly. You nodded. "How was your game?" You asked, going over, and sitting on the edge of the roof. He went over, sitting by you. "It went great. I'm alive, aren't I?" He stated sarcastically. You sighed, seeing as you were right. You had sensed it last night, but now it was more obvious. The games had changed him. For better or worse, you didn't know yet. "Mmm... and are the games any way to treat me differently? Because I'll hit you right now if you say yes," you threatened, glaring at him. He noticed your anger, but he guessed it could also be sadness. He'd left you alone for... how long had you said? 6 months? He didn't remember being gone for that long. Maybe time ran differently in the Borderlands than it did in the real world?

"No, it's not. Just know that I'm not going to act the same around you. I have a reputation here," he said, staring out. A light breeze brushed across the roof. A reputation? Well, you had noticed not many people coming up to talk to you all day. You heard whispers of 'that's the girl Niragi brought in. We should stay away from her.' So you assumed people feared Niragi. But you were curious. You know what they say, Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. "Tell me about it then. Tell me everything that's happened. All the good, all the bad, I want to know. So spill," you said. He sighed. He didn't want to tell you. A part of him was confused about it. He wasn't proud of the things he did, but on the other hand, he wasn't ashamed of them. The only thing stopping him was the fact that you were the only person who's opinion he cared about. The only person he had his whole life who cared about him the way he cared about them. You were the only reason he wasn't completely alone. "You want to know? Why?" He asked, putting up a defensive front. You shook your head, noticing it almost immediately. He had built walls in the games, you could tell. But that wasn't going to stop you. "Because you're my best friend,and I thought you had died. Because I want to know what you've been doing here? How'd you get such a high rank? When did you learn how to shoot? What's your specialty of the card games? Is it fun? Have you killed anyone?" You asked, going off on a small tangent. "Ok... let's do this. I've been playing the games, I got a high rank by playing the games, learned how to shoot here in the borderlands, surprisingly enough it's almost like shooting in a video game, my specialty are diamond games, yes it's extreme fun, and yes I have," he answered. You nodded, leaning your head on his shoulder. You had a suspicion there was worse he'd done, but you didn't want to know. He could keep it to himself until he felt comfortable to tell you. It felt like before, in a way... When you two would sit on the roof of some apartment complex down the street and watch the stars. Where your worries would go away, and you didn't have to worry about being the perfect daughter or the bullies. You were just (Y/N) and Niragi, the two kids. Because that's what you had been. Kids. When everything happened, you were kids. No kids should have been treated like how you two had been treated.

''I can't believe they broke your glasses," you muttered under your breath, brushing his hair out of his face. His bullies had gotten him while you were cleaning the classroom after class. He waited outside, but they decided to rough him up. The had beaten him up pretty badly. You had cleaned up the cuts and blood as much as you could, but it didn't change the fact his glasses were broken."It's fine..." he said, not wanting to look you in the eyes. "It's not fine, Sugu. You need your glasses, and glasses are expensive. Plus your dad..." you trailed off, seeing his hands beginning to shake. "Don't remind me..." he whispered. You hugged him, and whispered back, "You'll be ok. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, (N/N)."

"But I have to. Promise 1, we promise to keep each other safe, remember?"

He sighed, and nodded. You were scared for him. You knew somehow, you'd get roped into it. You looked up at him, seeing him pick at the cement on the roof. "Eventually... we're going to have to go back. We can't stay here the whole night," he said. You frowned. "I don't want to go back. We should run away. Just the two off us."

"(L/N)?" Someone called out from behind you two. You turned to face the person. It was Ann. "Hatter would like to see you... Alone."

[iplaydrake]

FULL CIRCLE - CHAPTER 5 - DRUNK HIM CAN’T GET OVER HER

Catch Up Here :

CHAPTER 4 - WE’RE BROKE... SEND HELP!

Author’s Note : This story is gonna get a little dark. Talk of Suicide, Assault (both physical and sexual), Gun Violence, Blood, Swearing. Please read with caution. Positive feedback, constructive criticism, and reblogging are always welcome. I own nothing except the storyline of my MC. Everything else belongs to Pixelberry. I also don't own Tiffany’s or Berta Bridal (just putting it out there!)

Pairing : (Eventually) Drake x MC

Tag List : @likethetailofacomet @carabeth @rhymesmenagerie @speedyoperarascalparty @butindeed @wannabemc2 @client-327 @jovialyouthmusic @be-still-my-aching-heart @riseandshinelittleblossom @lodberg @drakesensworld @alj4890 @rainbowsinthestorm @ao719 @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerisreal @whenyourheartskipsabeat @furiousherringoperatortoad @silentcoyotesong @choicesmacmakes @ladyangel70 @lady-alex-keith

*** FLASHBACK – 2 WEEKS BEFORE SWEET 16 ***

The door to her limo opened and she immediately spotted him, leaning against the archway of her Estate with a smile on his face. She couldn’t help it as she ran and jumped into his waiting arms, hugging him tight as he lifted her off the ground.

“Hey, Duck! How was Paris?”

She rolled her eyes and laughed at her nickname as he lowered her down. “Drake, it was unbelievable!”

He smiled and grabbed her hand, walking himself backwards. “You wanna go have lunch and tell me all about it?” She smiled back at him and allowed him to lead her away to their spot.

He'd found her there a few months before, upset over a comment Madeline had made and without even thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and held her as she cried. Slowly, and without either realizing it, they’d found their way back there more and more, spending any extra time they had together, an unspoken claim that it had become theirs. They’d sit for hours on end, whether it was talking about everything and nothing all at once, or just enjoying a companionable silence, each doing their own thing, but still together. 

They had somehow managed to become each other’s best friend, confiding in each other things they were afraid to tell others, including their friendship. For Drake, she was the only girl who had ever accepted him for him; not even Kiara had made him feel like he was good enough to be in the company of the nobles at court. But to Remi, the fact that he was a commoner had meant nothing and it had allowed him to see her in a completely different light instead of just being Maxwell’s little sister. 

It was no secret that she was head over heels for him, but because she was younger, Drake had always been careful to keep her at arm’s length, never going further than a hug or a kiss on her cheek. She’d brought it up to him once, asking if he ever thought that one day, there was a chance for them to be together. After a few tense moments for Remi, he had finally admitted that he’d been thinking about it more and more. From then on, it'd become a regular part of their conversations and he'd even gone so far as to tell her that the minute she turned 18, he’d be her very first kiss.

And there they sat, on a blanket under the trees near the riverbank; Remi with her legs stretched out and Drake laying flat with his head resting in her lap. She couldn't help but play with his shaggy hair as they talked, both completely relaxed after eating what he had prepared for them.

“But I thought this trip was supposed to be so you and your dad could spend some time together. You didn’t see him at all?”

“No… He was just really busy I guess with business meetings and stuff. It was still an amazing trip! I walked along the Seine, saw the Eiffel Tower, went shopping…”

Drake looked upside down at her, his head still in her lap. “By yourself?”

“Yeah… But oh my goodness, I walked past this store and I saw this bracelet... Oh Drake, it was so pretty! But I guess it was too much money for just plain silver, at least that’s was he said… I’m hoping they’ll surprise me with it for my birthday, though!”

He closed his eyes, and smiled at her excitement, “I’m sure they will, Duck.” before slowly drifting off to sleep as Remi continued stroking his hair.

*** END FLASHBACK ***

Remi stared at the bracelet in her hand as the memory slowly faded. She'd recognized it immediately and couldn't help but wonder how he'd managed it. She was still crying as she linked it around her wrist, letting it come to rest over her tattoo, and it was almost as if the significance of each slowly began to heal the other. She slid off the counter and made her way back to her room, the weight of the entire day suddenly overwhelming her.

*****

As soon as Drake put his truck in park, he opened the bottle of whiskey he'd taken from Ramsford. He was reeling after his conversation with Remi. His hope was to numb the pain he felt as the image of her crying to him replayed in his head over and over. 'Just tell me why, Drake... Why would you do that to me?... Why would you make me believe-... Did I mean nothing to you?' After finishing the bottle and realizing the pain was still there, he slowly slid out of his truck and stumbled towards the entrance of the palace. 

As he made his way through the halls, the anger and sadness overtook him all at once and after making it to his room, he immediately stepped to the bar cart and picked up a glass, throwing it against the wall. He picked up another and soon he was throwing anything he could find across the room, cursing Kiara and Madeline with each one.

As Liam made his way to his quarters, he heard the sounds of screaming and things being broken and he immediately took off in a run down the hall. He skidded to a stop in front of the doorway to Drake's room, seeing Bastien already inside trying to console a clearly drunk, teary-eyed Drake.

"You should have seen the way she looked at me... She thought it was me. She thought I... I would have never..."

"Shhh... It's okay... She's been through a lot. You can fix it. You just have to explain what happened and-"

"She was my best friend... How could she think-?... Bastien, I loved her..." Liam's eyes went wide as he heard Drake's admission. He watched his best friend break down fully in tears, as Bastien gently and slowly led him to the bed, Drake not putting up a fight at all.

"I know... I know, son."

"I love her and she left me... She was the one, Bas... She was the only one."

Bastien slowly lowered him down before turning to see Liam in the doorway, a confused look on his face. Liam waited to see if Bastien would explain what he'd walked in on.

"It's not my place, Your Highness." Liam nodded his head in understanding and watched Bastien walk out and down the hall back to his post. He turned back to see Drake draped across his bed, already asleep and snoring softly, and he couldn't help but wonder if he hadn’t been the only one hiding his relationship with Remi.

*****

Early the next morning, everyone made their way to the palace for the start of the social season. The first event was that night and it was a ball to formally introduce all the suitors for Liam. Remi slowly walked the halls reading and responding to Liam's messages that they had been sending back and forth since she'd left Ramsford.

Remi double checked the time and took off in a sprint towards the boutique. After a long appointment, she'd finally found the perfect dress but she found herself beginning to feel sick as she tried to mentally prepare herself for the evening ahead. She made her way out of the palace and walked through the garden's maze to the center where a simple swing hung from an old tree. She sat, taking some time to herself before the chaos began.

“Hey Beautiful!” She turned to see Liam walking towards her. She couldn't help her smile as he walked up behind her and grabbed the ropes of the swing, slowly pushing her back and forth. “Did you get a dress?”

“Yes. Thank you again so much. You didn't have to do that.” Liam leaned forward and kissed her temple before speaking. “I wanted to. So...” He hesitated, unsure how to broach the topic with her. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. Drake as a matter of fact.” She felt nervous all over again but stayed silent as she waited for him to continue. “I'm assuming that he finally was able to talk to you after I left yesterday.”

She turned to look at him. “What makes you say that? I mean, we did but...”

“I don't know, maybe the fact that he was completely drunk and upset and said some things...” Remi's eyes widened and Liam caught the look of surprise on her face. 

She was hesitant to, but after a few moments, she finally spoke. “There's so much about me and Drake that you don't know, Li... That no one knows.” He looked down at her waiting for her to continue. She nodded as she took a deep breath and sighed. “A few months before my birthday, we started hanging out more, by ourselves. I mean, every extra moment we had, we spent it together, talking about everything and anything. He'd tell me that we just had to wait until I turned 18. Once I turned 18, we were gonna be together. I honestly thought I was gonna marry him, Li... Ugh, and then my fucking birthday happened and... Well, let's just say it was implied that he was involved. I guess with everything that happened that night and the fact that he didn't come for me at all, I believed it... So I've spent the last 6 years hating him. Last night, he wanted to talk and I... I called him out on it and he- I don't know, Liam... I want to believe him but I just..."

He moved in front of her, crouching down to get her to look at him. “Remi, even if I hadn't known Drake all my life, after seeing how he was last night there's no way I would believe he had anything to do with hurting you... And I think you know it too.” Remi didn't say anything as she let Liam's words sink in. Deep down, she knew he wouldn't have hurt her, much less let anyone else hurt her. “Listen, it would be so easy for me not to say anything about this and maybe see what you and I could be. I mean, we've been talking for the last 6 years and I'd be lying if I said that, after all this time, there's not SOME feelings there, at least on my end because there are, Rem. There are definitely feelings and I'm not even sure exactly what they are, but Drake is my best friend and I know that the way he was last night, he's still upset over you.” 

Remi looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “Liam, I... I don't know what I feel for him anymore, but I do know that I have feelings for you too. I just... I had no intention of ever figuring out what they meant. All I know is that I would never want to hurt you.”

He grabbed her hand and helped her to stand. He put his hand to her chin and slowly leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. She was caught off guard for a split second before completely giving in to him. They got lost in each other for another moment before he pulled back, his hands falling down to hold hers.

“Remington, I'm here for you no matter what, but only you can decide what is best for you. I think you need to talk to Drake before you do, though. If you talk to him and feel nothing? Hey, great for me!” He smiled at her before continuing “But you guys clearly have some unresolved issues and it's not fair for any of us for you to make a decision without having all of the facts. It may change the way you're feeling now..." He glanced down at his watch, "I, uh, I should probably head inside and start preparing for tonight... Just think about what I said, okay?” He walked past her, holding her hand as long as he could, and when he disappeared from her view, she sat back down and closed her eyes as she laid her head against the rope. She allowed herself a few more minutes before she stood back up to head inside and get ready herself, resolving that she would talk to Drake that night, before anyone else could get hurt.

Want to continue? Click below for the next chapter :

CHAPTER 6 - THE RIGHT AND WRONG (AND RIGHT AGAIN) WAY TO BE A STUNNER - PART 1