#just angst this installment sorry not sorry pals

[kedsandtubesocks]

you, my golden hour

Rancher!Javier Peña x Cowgirl!Reader

summary: 1997. as a fallen rodeo star, you can handle anything - except maybe your city’s hometown hero

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, Post Season 3 Javi works on his family’s ranch AU, unspecified age gap (only age mention is reader can drink and Javi is older), major pining & yearning, emotional hurt & comfort, light angst with tender fluff, reader has a backstory and family, no physical description of reader but gendered language is used and reader can ride a horse, use of pet/nicknames, mention/description of rodeo accident, themes of dealing with burnout, small texas town toxicity, light Spanish use, reader & javi having insecurities they bond/heal over, bar scene with alcohol consumption, spicy moments with allusions to smut, intense makeout where Javi gets handsy, soft!Javi, dreamy & protective!Javi

word count: 10.2k (I’m sorry)

a/n: the second installment of ‘let’s rodeo’ and my love letter to Javi & Texas, the heart of this series - this fic is near & dear to me and I just appreciate getting the chance to write this, so to @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy & @perotovar for giving me the courage to post this know I’m so grateful… and to you reading this thank you, so dearly appreciate you too ♡

You haven’t thought of Javier Peña in years.

Older than you, he was handsome and had a smile that rivaled the Texas Friday night lights. He eventually hooked up with the number one town sweetheart who was even rumored to have won a local state beauty contest.

By the time you heard of their engagement, you already had started your plans for the circuits, for the road. You didn’t mourn or even feel heartbroken over the news.

Even after that, the rodeo consumed you. It kept you in a tornado like whirl for years until that fateful day it spat you out.

When that ride stopped, Javier Peña came back into your mind with a strange fog-like entrance.

While still on bed rest, the news on the TV had been showing a small special on the War on Drugs and the lull of it filled the room.

Your grandmother was the one who brought him up.

“That’s what Chucho’s son is involved in.”

“Wait, Javier Peña’s into drugs?” You asked a bit confused even without the pain killers.

“No. He’s going after the people who sell drugs.” She clarified.

Oh.

“He also didn’t get married either. Do you remember?” She had added.

You did. You heard he left the little Miss Homecoming Queen at the altar. Quite a scandal that made him the talk of the town for a while.

Then he became a big shot drug enforcer who took down one of the largest drug cartels in history and he again became the talk of the town.

It’s been a few years since your accident and now Javier Peña is back home.

Now driving into the Peña ranch you feel both so young, yet so aged at the same time, like you’re stuck between two realities.

Your sister bounces out of the truck with uncontainable glee and you’re grateful she’s excited.

Chucho Peña comes to greet everyone. His classic cream cowboy hat and gentle smile are all a beautiful welcome. It’s also adorable seeing your grandpa reunite with his old friend.

Señor Peña’s kind eyes eventually land on you with a sweet twinkle.

“It’s good to see you, mija.”

You’ve always adored Chucho Peña.

His son on the other hand…

You never knew Javier enough to fully know him. Even with his dad and your grandpa being pals, the years between you and Javier didn’t help. He existed outside your orbit, a figure almost out of reach.

“And that son of yours!?” Your grandpa of course perks up asking about him.

“Ah sí Javi’s here, just out in the stables.” Chucho explains casually.

The last time you physically saw Javier Peña he was walking out of the bank. You’d been waiting in your family truck when he stepped out. By that point, a small bit of shadow was forming against his jaw and upper lip as his facial hair began to grow thick. He was a young man on the verge of stepping into the threshold of being grown.

Now before you he’s a fully grown man.

For a minute you think the man in the barn is someone else because it doesn’t seem like Javier.

Yet when he turns, you see his eyes.

Rich soil of the earth stunning eyes and you know it’s him.

His body has filled out and his shoulders even look broader. He sports a similar mustache like his father’s and it adds to his older appearance. There’s a weathered weariness on his face evident in the wrinkles carved out by his eyes and on his forehead.

The button up shirt he’s wearing allows a peek at his chest and his skin shines with sweat from the Texas sun already shining its warmth.

He’s breathtakingly stunning and you can’t take your eyes off him.

He warmly greets your grandpa with a wide smile that touches his eyes and brightens his face. He’s still that charming young man you saw, a brilliant comet out of your galaxy.

But then his gaze lands on you and his eyes narrow. A conflicting recognition and confusion swirl in his eyes. He knows you, seems to remember you, but not fully.

His dad clarifies your name and you deflate a bit. Then Javier’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

So, he does remember you.

“Oh, yeah. Good to see you.” He nods fully realizing who you are.

“Guess the horse must be for you then?” Javier adds and your heart sinks a bit.

A grimace tugs on your face but you try recovering quickly.

“No mijo,” Chucho thankfully answers quick and gentle. “I told you, it’s for her hermanita.”

You grin small and tight in agreement.

“Oh…yeah of course.” He nods.

Your little sister immediately jumps in bright and eager to share her excitement. Thankfully the focus effortlessly shifts to her and the reason why you’re all here.

The horse is beautiful, playful and eager for attention. This first meeting already feels good. Of course, everyone holds their breaths when your sister goes for the ride.

And it couldn’t have gone more smoothly.

You even exhale relieved.

“You seemed nervous.” A smooth warm voice comes out besides you.

As you lean against the ring’s fence you discover Javier Peña moving to rest beside you.

“Just like the first day of school kinda nerves. Want to make sure everything goes smoothly.” You answer as your sister effortlessly trots around the ring with ease.

“Yeah, I bet. They already seem to be clicking.” Javier notes genuine and you’re grateful too.

Your grandfather now calls out to you.

Both you and Javier turn towards where the older men stand close to each other like conspiring headaches.

“To celebrate, we’re having dinner here!” Your grandpa cheers happily and a dread drop kicks your heart.

Immediately you stammer out panicked about how you all can’t impose.

“No pasa nada, mija.” Senor Peña gently reassures you saying not to worry. “Besides, you’re all more than welcome here. It’s been a while since Javi and I had guests.”

You don’t miss the unashamed hum Javier makes.

“And grandma?” You reply, trying to reach for more excuses not to stay.

“She can walk.” Your sister teases suddenly and you give her a sharp look.

“Will you go pick her up, please?” Your grandpa gives you his best pleading face before simply throwing the truck keys to you

Stubborn old man.

“Hijo,” Señor Peña calls out again, but this time to his son. “You should go too.”

Shit.

“No Pop, it’s okay!” Javi politely declines and you want to second that.

“Aye,” His dad chides and then he pointedly gives Javier a look that screams - Don’t be rude, go with her.

Damn.

The walk to the truck is quiet, awkward as hell, feels like two parents shoving their kids together to play nice.

Heading into the main part of town, silence fills most of the drive. You're also mentally kicking yourself for not getting the radio fixed last week like you should’ve.

“So uh, your grandma…still volunteering at the women’s shelter?” Until Javier offers a small branch of conversation.

“Yup.” You nod.

“Oh good, that’s good.” He replies.

But silence returns.

“So, you taking a break from the rodeo then? Pop used to tell me about you all the time.” Javier comments light, casual.

You feel like a cat with its hairs standing up. But even with that sensation, knowing Señor Peña spoke so fondly of you does simmer the sting.

“Sort of.” You decide to rip this off like a bandaid, get it over with now. “Had a bad accident a while back. Still haven’t decided if I wanna return.”

It’s been two years since you’ve been home.

“Oh…” Javier’s voice drops, the same way everyone does when you tell them.

“I’m sorry.” Except you’re surprise at how sincerely soft his voice is. “I thought I heard something about it. I should’ve fucking remembered… Sorry.”

He apologizes again, surprising you once more as genuine repentance floats off his voice.

You thank him understandingly. After all, it's one of the better responses you’ve been given. But you don’t want to dig into this, especially with him, so you quickly change the conversation.

“So how long are you here for? I’m sure there must be other drug cartels waiting for you to take them down.” You offer casual.

Not only had he taken down Pablo Escobar a while back, you briefly heard of his very recent grand move against the other cartel in Columbia.

He’s impressive, the town’s hero and golden boy.

“Uh actually, I’m retired. Gonna take a step back for a bit.” Javier answers just as polite and calm as you had answered him.

Oh. You hadn’t heard that. Or maybe you did and forgot.

You now feel like the foolish one and genuinely congratulate him.

“It takes a lot to decide when to step away. Besides, you deserve a break after all you did.” You mean those words.

After all, they were the same comforting words his father told you when you came back home.

A pause fills the truck and you worry you’ve maybe overstepped.

“I…yeah.” Javier breathes out. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

Your heart flutters at how small and genuine he sounds.

“So…how about them Dallas Cowboys, huh?” Javier offers light and for some reason you laugh.

It’s not much, but it feels like a lifeline.

When you arrive to pick up your grandmother she gasps so giddy when she sees the surprise guest with you. Her excitement lights up the drive while she talks about her day taking full advantage of having Javier listening to her.

“Oh I’m so glad you’re back home safe Javi!” She gushes and then says your name.

You’re already panicking.

“With so many of your friends living out of town, maybe you’ll get to spend more time back in the city with Javier!?” She offers to you brightly and absolute horror seizes your heart.

Shooting a petrified face at her you silently plead for this discussion to die.

Javier in the back seat weakly laughs. Because of course Javier, ever the gentleman, had your grams sitting up front.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” Your grandma playfully teases back at you. “At least go rent a movie with him.”

The thought crosses your mind about turning around and dropping her back off.

“Did you know,” Javier innocently jumps in. “The first ever blockbuster was opened in Dallas?”

Your grandma coos in awe as if he’s just explained a miracle.

“See! Now you have to go with him to one!” She urges.

A horrified indignant noise escapes you. While behind you, Javier snickers even more and you’re tempted to drop him off on the side of the road to let the coyotes feast on him.

The minute you arrive at the Peña’s home you can’t get out of the truck fast enough.

Dinner fortunately goes smooth and you’re surprised at how eased the rest of the time unfolds. You do hate how many times your eyes flicker towards Javier like if you’re still trying to soak him in.

Then, from across the table, Javier’s gaze flickers to you fast catching you staring red handed. Your heart transforms into a jackrabbit, petrified and thumping fast, almost making you flee right then and there.

Until your grandpa addresses you. His warm eyes dance with a surprise in his gaze.

“We’ve decided to have some of your sister's training here.”

Your heart now skips over itself.

Your gramps and sister both explain the plan hatched while you were on the road. In order to get used to competing in different spaces, your sister decided to train here at the Peña’s.

You’re hesitant, but understand the logic. You’re even impressed. But you can’t pinpoint why you’re so nervous about this.

Señor Peña now calls to you, sensing your hesitation, and tenderly grins.

“Don’t worry mija,” his kind eyes crinkle with understanding. “It’s no trouble at all.”

His reassurance is grace and you smile back relieved while thanking him deeply.

“Seems like you’re the boss here.” Javier suddenly joins in with a casual tone and you freeze.

“Well yeah, that’s my coach you’re talking to.” Your sister proudly declares.

“Coach?” Javier’s voice perks up curious.

“Yeah.” You answer with a small smile. “That’s me.”

“Been barking orders at me all these years so why not put her in charge.” Your sister innocently adds and in pure sobbing annoyance you want to shove her face into her plate.

Thankfully everyone laughs, illuminating the room.

But you’re faced with a new reality. You’re going to be here more, seeing Javier Peña more.

And you don’t know how you feel about that yet.

-

The Peña ranch in the morning sits tranquil and the peace gives you the focus on training.

You’re surprised at how good your sister and the mare already bond. You explain a few drills and have your sister run a few repetitions of them.

“You sound like a tough one.” Javier’s voice surprises you and you almost jump over the fence.

Glancing back, he approaches you with two thermoses.

“Pop and I thought you might need an extra pick me up.” He offers and you can’t help but greedily grab at it.

“Tell your dad thanks and that he’s a saint.”

Javier snorts at your reply.

Now your focus returns to your sister. You recommend a type of turning drill vividly remember doing yourself. Your sister playfully salutes you and begins.

“How she looking, coach?” Him calling you ‘coach’ draws a dangerous electricity that snaps up your spine.

“Don’t call me coach.” You dryly tell him trying to keep yourself composed.

“Well isn’t that what you are?” He teases casually.

Your face scrunches up annoyed while his eyes crinkle amused.

“Don’t you have things to do, Javier Peña?” You sigh, already exhausted of this man.

“Javi…you can just call me Javi, coach.”

You’re tempted to childishly scoot away from him. Younger you would have never imagined he was this annoying.

“Don’t call me coach.” You dully repeat.

“Okay, coach.”

Now you contemplate just shoving him away.

But all the annoyance washes away when commotion hits. The horse makes a disgruntled whinny and immediately both you and Javier whip your attention towards the ring. Your sister calmly stays on the saddle, gently soothing down her companion.

After asking if she’s good, her eased thumbs up reassures you. She does a few trots to calm everyone down. You even exhale relieved.

“You lost in thought?” Javier comments.

“Yeah.” You answer him with a mutter. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You almost don’t tell him. But you surprise yourself and do.

You explain the type of pace that comes with training in barrel racing. There’s a pattern and method to it all. You don’t realize you’ve rambled until you blink and realize Javier stares so directly at you. His eyebrows furrow slightly as if he’s focused hard listening to your words.

Embarrassed, you’re about to stammer out an apology when Javier whistles low.

“You know your fucking shit.” He nods appreciatively and hearing his pride ignites something dangerous in your chest.

Another surprise sharp whistle comes. Out from the barn, a further ways away, Chucho stands staring out. He even waves at you and you wave back.

“You gonna work today, hijo?” He calls out.

Javier curses under his breath.

“Busted.” You joke and now he’s the one side eying you.

“Please you’re the one slacking off here!” Your baby sister suddenly complains loud and cheeky “You’re not getting paid by the hour, coach!”

“Guess we’re both in trouble.” Javier snickers.

You roll your eyes but quickly sneer at your smiling sister.

“Alright then. See ya later…bandita.” Javier already walks away by the time you hear his goodbye.

But it hits you.

He thankfully stopped calling you coach. But now, what replaced it…

Little Bandit.

The nickname rips through you with a barbed fierceness you’re not prepared for.

The rest of the month follows this same routine.

On training days Javier shows up with something for you to drink. Once he even came with a few goods from the bakery across town.

No matter what, he watches practice with you for as long as he can before getting called back to the ranch.

During these moments together, he asks about how the turns are made or why you correct your sister when you do. It’s friendly. You actually start enjoying his company especially when your grandfather so eagerly leaves to hang out with Chucho instead.

The greetings and thanks are always the same.

“Thanks, Peña.”

“Javi,” he patiently corrects you everytime.

You can’t bring yourself to call him that just yet.

At the start of the new month everyone sleeps in and arrives later to the Peña’s ranch.

This time you’ve brought more barrels. Thankfully you can move them with the help of your sister. Suddenly besides you, boots clamor onto the truck and rapidly you snap your attention to the source of the sound.

Javier Peña smoothly climbs up to help you with the rest of the barrels.

He’s in a striking soft purple button up shirt. Sweat already shines against his bare arms. Thick worn in working gloves cover his hands. His hair seems a bit curlier today and he wears aviator sunglasses that suit his face.

Effortlessly Javier grabs onto one and lifts it by himself.

You’re stunned. Even your sister stops and stares just as surprised.

Javier is strong. Doesn’t seem like the muscular type but he’s built and radiates a type of seasoned strength of a well grown man, a rancher man.

His arms firmly hold the barrel, sturdy and toned, and you can’t look away.

“Where d’ya want me to put it?” Javier yells and you trip out of your thoughts to dumbly point where the barrel needs to be placed.

Your grandfather whistles proudly seeing Javier.

“If this rancher thing doesn’t work out for you Jav, you got the makings of a fine rodeo man.” Your grandpa teases.

Javier chuckles, with his eyes averted a bit bashful.

“Could add him to the team.” Your grandpa notes with a twinkling gleam of something mischievous.

You reply a dry no as you move to get off the truck.

In a flash, Javier jogs over and immediately reaches his hand out to help you get down. Placing your hand in his, Javier helps you down and you thank him.

He’s wearing gloves. This shouldn’t feel so significant. Yet the way he firmly holds your hand makes your heart sprout wings.

Even back on the solid dirt ground your legs don’t feel as if they’re under you.

Javier doesn’t stick around after that and you’re allowed to focus.

It’s later in the day, later than the usual practice times, and the Texas sun beats down with a fierceness. You call for more water breaks to keep everyone hydrated.

During a break, a rustling catches your attention. There towards the barn, Javi moves in and around the place.

You just catch the smallest glimpse of him with a hammer in his hand as he heads into the smaller enclosure. Curiosity gets the best of you.

Grabbing another water bottle you justify it as wanting to be polite, but curiosity gnaws at you.

The clang of hammering approaches louder and louder until you spot him in a goat pen. He hammers in a reinforced slab, probably fixing a hole. His back to you allows a glorious full sight of his broad shoulders at work.

He even switches to a drill and watching him casually use power tools, you never thought you’d find this so attractive.

One of the goats nearby makes a blep of a noise at your appearance and you almost want to shush them.

Javier glances over his shoulders spotting you.

“Hey there, bandita. Qué pasó?” he nods at you as the nickname flares up your heart.

“Just…knew how hot it was getting and gramps told me just to check up on you.” You lie waving the water bottle.

Javier turns to face you and you’re greeted with the sight of his full sweaty glory. You should be turned off seeing how bad his shirt sticks to him, how he smells of hay and dirt, but it’s incredibly hot.

The hard work of his day evident on every inch of him brews a dark cloud of desire in you.

“Oh well, tell your gramps thanks.” He replies snagging the water bottle from you.

His plus lips, the glorious sight of his thick slick neck, and the movement of the sweat just covering him as he drinks from the water bottle…

Getting this weak over the sight of him just drinking a water bottler you now think is the lowest you can go. You wonder about walking down by the river nearby and just jumping in to cool down.

From a distance, your sister yells out for you.

“Duty calls.” Javier smirks. With a sheepish smile you shrug then wave a quick goodbye.

You practically run out of that barn like a fleeing field mouse.

Later that night, alone in your room, your fingers slip under your sheets to slide under your sleep shorts. You imagine licking the sweat off Javier’s neck, picture his thick strong fingers, that fix up barns, hoist up barrels, and wonder how thick they would feel inside you.

You fall into desire’s blissful sticky release.

When you shower the next morning, you rationalize that those thoughts of Javier simply come from needing to scratch an itch.

Besides, you couldn’t get tangled with Javier. He’s older. He’s Laredo’s golden boy. He doesn’t go after broken cowgirls like you.

In the shower you turn the heat up more. A part of you hopes it will scorch off the building desire in your heart.

-

The morning is muggy, a soupy cloudy early day begging you to curl back into bed. Soft chirping echoes of the mockingbirds fill the air. You opted for earlier practices this week so your sister could prepare for a trip with her friends coming up. You agreed, wanting her to still enjoy moments outside of this.

“You out here all alone, bandita?” Javier.

He breaks the morning’s stillness. Holding his routine two drinks, he approaches you bundled up in a nice jacket that flatters him.

Thanking him, you greedily grab the drink and savor its warmth.

You explain that your sister is free roaming around the ranch this morning and it’s why you’re all alone. You stare at the empty riding area where the dirt sits holy and untouched.

“Do you miss it?” Javier asks. His voice is quietly probing, gentle as the morning mist.

That question holds a million answers all tied up in a messy knot.

“Sometimes.” You answer truthfully because you did. You missed the adrenaline, the wind blowing past you, speeding around a barrel so fast it was like you were out running the wind.

“Can I ask…” Javier and his soft, kind voice presses on. “What happened?”

Might as well. You’re now sort of friends with Javier even though the word feels sticky in your heart.

“You know that saying about how you just gotta get back on the horse? Well it's easier said than done.” You mutter.

It happened during a ride in Arizona. You’ve fallen and wrecked before. But this one just felt different. You took a barrel close and then everything slipped away. You remember being on the saddle, remember feeling your body float. Then the world went dark.

You woke up to a nasty concussion, a broken arm, and a couple of rowdy scrapes. You don’t remember your foot getting caught in the stirrup, but that’s what had happened.

“Holy fuck...” Javier breathes out, the weight of your words hang in his. “Shit I’m sorry.”

You thank him earnestly and reassure him it’s fine, just unfortunate shit like that happens. Everyone knew how dangerous the sport could get. The rodeo was a rough ride and every cowboy knew that.

But for you, you just couldn’t shake it off.

“I’m glad you made it out.” Sincerity blooms in his voice and your lips tug grateful at how considerate he is as you thank him again.

“You haven’t gone back?” Now he dances on a tight line.

“Nope. I tried after getting the clearance from the doctors but… it just didn’t go well.” You truthfully tell him.

You didn’t want to ride anymore, didn’t want to face everyone or the pressure of the race or the terror swallowing you whole. It felt as if you were burnt dry and exhausted from the inside out.

Your grandma gently embraced you and held you for what felt like hours.

“Then don’t go. You don’t have to do anything that makes you this worried and sick. Nothing is worth you being this scared, not even the damn rodeo.” She told you tenderly and with the most profoundly kind smile. You cried out of relief.

“It’s brave,” Javier says so firmly understanding. “Making a decision like that is really fucking brave, hard as fuck too.”

You gently grin and thank him again while blinking away a few tears.

“Same goes for you too.” You tell him.

From your gramps, who had gotten the full story from Chucho, you learned more about what happened with Javier and his final days in Columbia.

“I don’t know much but, what you did was brave too.” Your voice comes out softer than you expected.

He barks a laugh now. It’s dry, bitter, and can catch fire.

“Doesn't feel like it.”

You understand maybe more than he even knows. So you think about maybe what you would’ve told yourself.

“You did what was right.” You begin. “Everyone else might judge you or say shit but it doesn't matter. You’re not meant to please everyone or do what everyone expects you to do. And if that’s seen as a bad thing then…I don’t know, fuck them and fuck that.”

You say it so simply Javier busts out laughing. It’s a true blue laugh, so sweet it crinkles his beautiful dirt road eyes.

You’ve never seen him laugh like this before. And he’s beautiful.

You join in snickering as well but try to ignore the butterflies suddenly nesting in your stomach.

He’s really such a dream. A carved out Texas man so seasoned from the world, yet he still stays so kind and devoted to his family.

You get why many in the town, especially the girls during your time in high school, are all over him. Now you’re afraid you might’ve fallen into the same pit traps they did.

You’re falling under the spell of Javier Peña.

“So you’re really not going back to catching drug dealers and what not?” You ask when the laughter settles.

“I could’ve.” Javi answers. “Damn DEA would’ve taken me back. But…I just couldn’t see a future with it anymore.”

“And now here I am.” He says with a boyish soft grin.

“Now here you are”. You repeat with a nod.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” You truthfully tell him. You knew his dad worried about him. But the quiet truth is that you’re grateful for this time getting to know him now.

His eyes soften and your heat bursts.

“Thanks, glad I’m here. Glad you’re here too, bandita.” Then he softly nudges you. It’s playfully, friendly but it’s his words that almost take you out by the knees.

“Anyway, the government’s dumb. They don't deserve you.” You nod and Javier snorts amused.

“Guess I should listen to a cowgirl like you.” He teases.

You shrug. “Some people say I’m not one anymore.”

Especially because you didn’t ride anymore.

“Fuck them and fuck that.” He repeats your words and your lips twitch with a bubbling giggle.

Right now, it feels like you and him are two lonely birds sitting on a wire. Yet there’s something comforting about it, knowing it’s with him.

Then it dawns on you. You enjoy spending time with him. You know there’s desire already trickling in for him. But now he’s becoming someone precious to you.

You can’t even deny that anymore.

“Thanks, Javi.”

You don’t miss the way his eyebrows shoot up high.

Thunder roars suddenly clashing into the air interrupting the moment.

The dark clouds now loom on the horizon and coat the morning in an impending murkiness.

“Guess a storm’s coming in.” Javi mumbles.

Thankfully your sister rides back in quick and Javi decides to do some final things around the ranch before the storm rolls in. Before the rain comes, you and your sister pack up quickly. But it’s too late.

The rain pours down in a blink, almost like a hole in the sky popped to let a faucet drain out. The wind even picks up dangerously quick. It’s chaotic trying to wrangle the hose back to the stables but you and your sister manage.

“Come inside!” Gramps yells from the Peña’s porch and you and your sister scurry to the shaded sanctuary.

“You coming in?” Your sister asks while drying herself off with a towel. You don’t move from your spot by the steps.

“I’ll be in a bit.” You reassure her. She glares suspiciously and you shoo her away.

Javi hasn’t come back yet.

Noises clang out from the barn. A poisonous worry erupts through you and immediately you rush back out into the rain.

Inside the barn Javi tries yanking up a barn ladder that’s fallen over. It’s sturdy, wooden, and stuck in a hard position.

You move to help. Without any words or having to explain anything you both, as a team, work to yank the ladder out. Patiently and slowly the ladder gets moved to a spot the wind won’t knock it over.

The rush of it all has you breathing heavy.

“Thanks bandita.”

You breathlessly laugh and turn to maybe make a joke about now becoming a ranch hand and stealing his job. But all words, all thoughts, die instantly.

Having to work together to push the ladder, you now notice how close you are to him.

The sight of Javi soaked to the bone from the rain is corruptible. His clothes stick to him showing off his thick frame and shoulders. His drenched hair now seems darker with the curls more pounced.

He’s also heavily breathing too.

Now his lips, how soft and wet they look, have you hypnotized.

The pattering rain pours down hard on the roof, the only noise in the barn. You notice a shift in Javier. His eyes ever so slightly soften, almost hazing over. You might just be imaging it, but his face gradually seems to lean closer. Or maybe, you’re the one leaning towards him.

You’re possessed with an ache to kiss him, to see how the rain tastes on his lips.

It’s just you and him, soaked to the bone. You probably look like a drenched mess of a creature, but you’ve never wanted someone this much.

“Aye!”

Chucho suddenly shouts out from outside the barn and your heart stops.

Like a skittish roadrunner, you scramble away fast from Javier and just in time. His dad walks in from the other side of the barn holding an umbrella with an extra in his hand.

“You kids okay?” He calls out.

Both you and Javi yell back, quickly moving towards the elder Peña.

“You two look like a couple of soaked barn cats.” Chucho teases.

You weakly laugh and thank him for the umbrella.

Javi grumbles at his dad while he grabs the umbrella to open it up. Ever chivalrous, Javier holds it above you and him. Yet the entire walk to the house is quiet.

Fuck. Did you ruin this tentative whatever was forming between you and him? Or were you just imagining things?

You stay quiet the rest of the time waiting out the storm.

“You okay?” Your sister, keen as always, notices.

You lie with a smile saying the weather’s getting to you. When in reality, it’s a man that has.

Because you can’t stop thinking about Javier Peña now.

-

The rain stays for the rest of the week and everyone takes the schedule changes with stride. Your sister even heads out earlier on her trip earlier during a lighter drizzle.

By Saturday night the storm settles down.

Your closest friend from high school, now back in town for the month, even calls your home phone begging you to take advantage of the better weather.

“Look, before I go back to Florida let’s enjoy a nice night out, yeah? Maybe play some pool?” She pleads.

It’s how you now find yourself at the bar. You haven’t gotten dressed up in a while and you’re reminded of how nice it feels.

As much as you jokingly fussed about going out, being with your best friend laughing at the bar is lovely.

Ricky, one of the bartenders, actually was in the same grade as you two and it’s nice reminiscing, snickering over a nice drink.

“So how’s it been hanging out with Mr. Hero of the town himself?” Your friend smirks.

You make an unamused face at her while Ricky perks up.

“Wait, who are you hanging out with?” He whispers excitedly.

“Javier Peña.” Excitedly, she spills and you roll your eyes when Ricky gasps.

“You’ve fallen for the guy half the county is in love with!?” He hisses. You hate it, but it’s true and tastes soberly cold.

“Okay but practically all of our class was and maybe still is in love with him.” Your best friend adds.

“Well y’all do remember, he left Lorraine Wilson at the altar right?” Ricky reminds everyone and your mouth turns acidic.

“Oh fuck you’re right.” Your friend whispers.

“Might be bad news.” Ricky tensely tells you.

You want to hiss that he’s not like that. He’s kind, a bit annoying, but with a good heart.

“Shit, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Ricky says in a low awed tone.

Worried you whip around to see what caught his attention. Absolute horror drowns you.

Javi and another man step into the bar and you want to run.

Your best friend squeals excited beside you, but you can’t comprehend what she says. Javier has stolen your attention.

Ricky called him the devil and he does seem like an angel dipped in temptation.

The sleek blazer he wears is dressed down by his nice button up shirt and jeans. His hair is styled nice, seeming so soft and begging for someone’s fingers to run through it. A buzz swarms in your head seeing him outside the ranch looking this gorgeous.

That’s when he spots you. For a split moment you two see each other. His eyes widen and before anyone can react you whip back towards the bar.

“Looks like you’re about to fall outta your seat.” Ricky snickers and you death glare at him.

“Okay,” your friend nudges you. “The guy he’s with, I think that’s David Martinez. He was in Peña’s class right? He’s so hot now, what the fuck?” She breathes out.

You almost toast to that because you felt the same about Javier.

So you keep your head down, enjoy your drink and maybe wonder about suggesting that game of pool your best friend advertised.

“Would you two beauties be alright with a bit of company?” A sweet male voice comes out and immediately draws the attention to him.

Behind you stands Javier Peña and his friend.

David has always been kind to your family and his mom even worked with your grandma at the shelter. You appreciate that Javi still hangs out with him.

“Yes of course. We’d love some company, right?” Your friend brightly asks you and you smile polite.

Your heart however rages like it’s a wild bucking bronco trying to break free.

The guys buy a round of drinks. Everyone laughs reminiscing about that one famous senior prank where the class managed to get two cows into the school.

The atmosphere is friendly, light. But your eyes constantly flicker nervously to Javi. You can’t stop staring at him, can’t stop thinking about him. Now here he is a Texas dream, or maybe your nightmare.

You turn back to take another sip and in that shift, your best friend turns to direct all her attention to David who moves to sit beside her.

But now Javier smoothly slides into the barstool next to you.

“Nice to see you outside the ranch.” His voice comes out smooth and rich.

You agree. But the air turns awkward, as if neither of you know how to tackle this new situation.

Suddenly heels clicking fast arrive. Standing to the side is a girl you recognize from your sister’s class that just graduated high school.

“Hi,” she smiles, staring at Javi with obvious hearts in her eyes.

He politely but cautiously greets her back.

“I was, um, wondering if you wanted to maybe dance with me?” She’s bold. You can at least appreciate that.

“My friends all dared me to ask you since it’s, ya know, you.” She gushes and giggles.

“Uh, appreciate the thought but I’ll have to pass, sorry.” He turns her down gently.

As if she finally realizes you even existed her eyes blink to you.

“Oh hey!” She recognizes you as an older sister to one of her classmates. And then for something else.

“Yeah didn’t you like, used to be a rodeo cowgirl or something and then something happened so now you’re not doing anything anymore?”

She’s being underlyingly mean. Her misleading chipper tone, vapid smile, are all soaked in venom meant to shake you or even scare Javi away from you.

But you’re used to it by now. You’re about to comment how she shouldn’t even be here.

Javier however speaks first and fast.

“Hey,” Javier’s voice jumps shockingly sharply, almost reprimanding. Your eyes go wide at how fast he reacts. He even glares at the girl.

Besides you, your best friend immediately turns around.

“Oh hey!” She greets the young newcomer. “Weren’t you that girl caught buying weed only for the cops to figure out you were actually buying oregano?”

Her cheerful tone makes you bust out a snort because yeah, she’s right.

The girl’s face falls absolutely mortified.

“Now get the fuck out of here.” Your dear friend finishes sweet but the undercurrent of her voice looms threatening. The disgraced girl rushes away before she can even reply.

You wheeze into your hand and fondly lean against your dearest sweet friend.

“If she or any of her little punk ass friends try anything again, I’ll shove my heel so far up their asses.” She reassures.

“Don’t worry,” Ricky now jumps in. “I’m definitely telling our bouncer those little shits managed to sneak in.”

Gratitude carves out an ocean in you and you’re thankful for those who understand.

David whistles appreciatively and your friend, with a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder, returns to her discussion with him.

You feel Javier’s eyes burning on you.

“Does shit like that happen often?” His concerned and low voice floats out among the music.

You shrug.

“Back when I first came back it did, but it's dying down.”

You were supposed to be a big rodeo star. You even had an official big name brand sponsorship lined up. But, after the accident, not returning to the rodeo painted you a failure in the eyes of the town.

Especially compared to its bright shining star you sit beside.

Suddenly a warmth slides over your hand resting on the bar. Javier squeezes your hand gently, a reassuring comfort.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters deeply sad. “S’fucking awful.”

You thank him, even make a dry joke about small town bullshit which earns you a small dry chuckle.

“The shit I got after Lorraine…” he sighs and now you find his hand doesn’t leave yours. You don’t want it to.

“I get it. Shit’s brutal.” He finishes, a steeled hardness lingering in his tone.

Now your hand squeezes his.

His eyes, gleaming tiger’s eyes gemstones, flicker up to you and you smile softly.

Javi’s hand feels so lovely. It's rough, a bit callous but cozy. Just like him.

“Hey!” Your best friend suddenly cheers. “Let’s dance!”

She interrupts the moment but you can’t blame her. A hesitant scrunched up reaction tugs at your face though.

“It’s a slow dance.” You waver.

“That’s the best kind! Come on!” She urges and you spot her hand already intertwining with the guy’s.

“You go,” you urge with a beaming grin. “I wanna finish my drink.”

“Aw, come on now bandita,” now Javi slides off his seat.

Standing up straight, he extends his hand out to you.

“You gotta at least get one dance in.” He smirks.

It’s just one dance and you don’t know if you’ll ever get another chance to dance with him. That thought alone outweighs the hesitation. Placing your hand in his, Javier leads you out to the dance floor.

Javi maintains a polite distance from you. Yet the faintest scent of his cologne floats off him, a siren’s song pure of temptation. His hand keeps yours in its protective hold while he gently guides you to the beat of the music.

Being this close to him clouds your focus in a tantalizing haze begging you to get lost in. But you can’t. You can’t even stare into his eyes. So your focus flickers out to the rest of the bar.

David and your best friend dance close, already getting cozy with each other. Then your eyes move to the door.

The bar’s bouncer sternly starts throwing the three girls out and the one you recognize stares at you with disgusted hatred.

You snort.

“What?” Javi mutters, his voice silky against the low music.

You nudge your head towards the bar’s entrance and Javi follows your gaze.

“Oh hey.” He comments, noticing the scene.

“Good riddance. Poor girl must be pissed seeing you dance with someone me though.” You mutter a bit gleeful at the thought.

“Wait, what?” Javi sounds insulted.

“Uh yeah,” you reply, confused. “I mean, it’s kinda funny. You’re Mr. hometown hero here with the town’s nobody.”

“No.” Javier snaps fast. “Anyone who says or believes that’s a pinché cabrón.”

They’re a fucking asshole and the way he speaks with a conviction refuses to allow any doubt to refute him.

“And besides…I’m not a hero.” That’s when Javi’s voice drops, transforming into a whisper tangled among the slow country ballad playing.

“I’m not that golden bullshit guy everyone thinks I am.” His voice contains a stinging rawness you recognize.

Now you’re the one snapping back at him.

“Yeah you are. You’re good, Javi.” You begin firm.

“You’re noble and kind. Brave.” The words flow from your heart and you don’t even stop them. “You’ve worked hard to help people. I’m sure there’s shit you regret and you might not think you’re good because of it, but you are.”

He stays silent. Only the tune of the slow jam settles between you and him. You’re worried you’ve maybe said something to upset him.

Then Javier exhales your name and it has never sounded so tender.

Your throat tightens and when you finally look at him, you’re greeted by a galaxy.

The lights of the bar dance in his dark road eyes that stare directly at you as if the rest of the bar has melted away. Javi’s hand gingerly against your back now slides down gently. In that same motion, he slowly begins drawing you to him.

You don’t resist and catch his eyes flickering to your lips.

A sudden clamoring collision erupts and startled, you clutch onto Javi.

The cause of the commotion is a man who tripped into some chairs. He effortlessly laughs it off. The group he’s with helps him up and you’re thankful it’s not a bar fight.

You sigh relaxed.

That’s when you notice Javier shifted to draw you closer to him. In an almost protective hold, he has you now close against his broad chest. His cologne smells divine, makes your mouth water.

Like a bolt of electricity striking you, you’re galvanized and scramble immediately out of his hold.

“Wait, bandita, what’s wrong? You okay?” He’s so concerned and you dare not look at him.

“Just need some air.” You reply moving away from Javi towards the door leading to the small patio outside.

Your best friend swiftly rushes to you.

“Hey, you okay?!”

You rapidly reassure her that you’re fine and just need air. You even joke about not being able to handle your drinks anymore.

“That fucker didn’t try anything, right?” She asks low and deadly.

You shake your head and squeeze her hand. It’s enough for her to let you leave. Your body operates on autopilot until you stumble into the night air.

It feels like you’re resurfacing. You move to lean against the railing and simply gather yourself.

You feel possessed again needing to kiss him.

And it’s not just that. You want all of him all the time now and it’s infesting you. You’re barely keeping your head above water or maybe you’re this far gone under the waves.

For a moment you think it might be drizzling again. Until you blink and realize the water against your eyes are tears threatening to spill.

You’re so afraid of how badly you want Javier, and how badly it might shatter right before your eyes.

Someone says your name cautiously.

Embarrassed, you turn towards the door.

Javi stands a few steps away from you. His handsome face crumbles instantly seeing you. Quickly he rushes to your side, as if on instinct wanting to help, until he stops.

“Bandita, are you okay!? Fuck… did I do this?” He stammers out worried.

“Did I overstep?” His voice is wrecked. He’s so apologetic already.

You shake your head trying to pathetically dab away the tears. Unable to look at Javier, your attention stays on the dark stretch of parking lot.

“I promise it’s not you. It’s me.” Maybe it will always just be you.

“Querida…”

Darling…he’s never called you that.

“Whatever it is, please let me help.” His voice pleads unbearably tender and you want to cry even more.

He really is so good, too good.

“I just…I just can’t take it...” you begin with a watery cough.

You finally look at him. The furrowed brows, his worried soaked eyes, concern paints him so young. You’re reminded of the young man you saw walking out of a bank all those years ago and how a piece of him stands before you now.

“I like you so much Javi.” Through the heartache, you finally admit it out loud. “Maybe even more than I wanna admit and I don't know if I can’t keep fighting it.”

His face scrunches up and his eyes rapidly scan over you.

“Fight it?” He mutters out. “Why fight it?”

Now you stare at him a bit confused. You have nothing to lose now. So you hold your heart out to him. You reveal it all…the fears and worries sprouting in your heart like uncomfortably cacti about how he deserves someone just as refined and established as him, that he'll eventually get bored of someone like you.

All your words come out hollow, especially thinking about how he can have anyone he wants.

Javier, suddenly in the middle of your ramble, interrupts, upset, snapping your name fiercely that any other words you want to say vanish.

“You’re the only one in this town who actually understands, who maybe even really fucking sees me.” He growls.

Your heart even jumps hearing how determined and raised his voice got.

“You…” Javi now chokes out and suddenly runs a hand over his face. Then his hands go to his hips. His eyes fall to the floor as if he’s taking a moment to gather himself.

“Fuck… you don’t even know what you do to me, how much you fucking mean to me.” Javier breathes and the words get caught in your ribs.

“Whenever you’re not around I can’t stand it. I just wanna be with you….all the damn time.” He coughs out as if he can’t even believe his words.

Those earth pool eyes of his flicker to you.

Under the watch of the clouded Texas deep night sky, it’s just you and him.

You don't know who moves first. Instead it feels like two magnets finally flinging together so fast the collision knocks you awake.

Because in a blink Javi’s hand holds face while his other yanks at your hips. Then he kisses you.

It’s all encompassing.

Immediately your hands scramble to claw at him, begging to get him as close as possible.

His mustache scrapes beautifully against your lips. You taste the beer lingering on his tongue and he’s divine. The wall of the bar suddenly hits your back.

Now you’re flush against him, fully pinned under all of Javier, and you moan. His tongue with hungered finesse licks into your mouth. One hand stays firmly holding your face while his other runs across your body trying to map you out.

His hips rut against yours and you go dizzy with aching raw need.

“Mi pretty bebita, so good to me.” He whispers out thick and heavy. You whine wanting him more, wanting him inside you every way possible. Everything feels molten.

Javi playfully bites your bottom lip and your knees almost buckle. Your mind simply chants for him.

A clash of teeth, a burning heat devours you while you chase every taste of Javier that he gives. It’s an unleashing of something raw and aching, as if finally you can breathe against him while something inside you whispers yes, yes you and I are here and you don’t want to ever leave.

A sudden droplet plops onto your head. You ignore it especially when your tongue swipes against Javi’s and he groans out the most heavenly noise.

A few more large obvious water drops come.

You and Javi freeze, halting mid make out like a paused VHS tape.

Then the rain arrives.

“Shit!” Javi coughs out immediately pulling away. He quickly shrugs off his blazer and drapes it over you, a makeshift umbrella.

Filled by the most buoyant bliss, you laugh.

Javier snorts, shaking his head but he must sense it too, all of it amongst the rain.

And it’s beautiful.

-

“I’m surprised you don’t wear this as much.” Javier comments as he picks up your Stetson cowboy hat.

He’s shirtless, only wearing his jeans. You’re treated to his bare broad shoulders and wonderfully sweet ass in his jeans. It’s an utterly devastating combo.

Sitting on your bed waiting to settle in for the night with him, you shrug.

You didn’t expect him to be so curious and constantly snooping around anytime he’s in your bedroom. Then again, you still can’t believe he’s even in your bedroom.

Sneaking away that the first weekend after the bar didn’t last long though.

Your grandma caught him a few Sunday mornings later trying to sneak out and she ran to you screaming excitedly when she could start planning the wedding. You still haven’t recovered from that.

Even with the blessings from both sides, including Chucho and your gramps, you still wanted to just enjoy being with Javi in these intimate carved out spaces.

His presence already is crystallizing here. His wallet and packs of nicotine gum clutter the night stand. His extra pair of sunglasses sit beside yours on the dresser. His faded worn Texas A&M University t-shirt is tossed by the bed and his boots are by the door. You treasure it all.

Javi, now standing in front of you, places the cowboy hat on top of your head.

The familiar presence of wearing it is like greeting an old friend. You bashfully grin at your handsome rancher. Javier’s eyes gloss over you, taking in the sight. His hand moves to tenderly hold your face.

“You look good, like a true damn cowgirl.” He mutters and your heart flutters against its cage.

“Know you can ride like one now too,” his voice dips with a magnetic undertone as his words hold the heavily sexual double meaning.

You playfully smack his shoulder and he smirks.

“I’m still surprised you don’t call me cowgirl instead of bandita.” You note gently.

“Do you mind that I call you that?” One of his eyebrows lifts up curiously.

No, you didn’t mind at all. You were just curious and you even tell him that.

Javi snorts and his thumb now strokes your cheek.

“The way Pop used to talk about you and how you’d race made you sound like some wild bandit trying to outrun outlaws or something.”

You snort now and your fondness for Chucho Peña triples.

“And then,” Javier continues. “When I met you, I knew I was fucked.”

Now your face scrunches up confused and you ask why. A small charming grin tugs his lips.

“Cause the minute I saw you glaring at me in the barn you stole every fucking inch of me.”

Javi’s thumb now moves to run over your lip and desire bubbles in you. You kiss his thumb, delicate and reverent.

“My pretty little bandit.” His voice is low, a fond rumble in his chest that you want to drown in as much as you can.

You think of all the awards you’ve won, the tournaments you’ve faced. Yet they all seem to fall so short to those words, to this man you so endlessly adore.

In your cowboy hat, you yank Javi close and kiss him. Quickly you and him both tumble into your bed sheets, melting against each other in pure bliss.

In the afterglow, you snatch up the cowboy hat again and now place it on Javi’s head. Your gruff rancher's face twists into a grumpy frown and you grin giddy.

“You look good, a classic Texas man.” You compliment him, almost mirroring the words he told you.

His face scrunches up more.

“Always thought I looked stupid wearing these.” He huffs taking off the Stetson.

“Everybody looks good in a cowboy hat.” You reply truthfully and place the hat back on him.

“Especially you.” You add letting your hand slide across his bare chest. The sight of him in the cowboy hat, your cowboy hat, flickers to life the simmering heat from earlier. He’s already so beautiful and now a cowboy hat on, shirtless, with the dimming post sex glow radiating from him, he’s personified sin.

“Cowboy hat doing it for ya, huh?” Javi’s little cocky smirk has you glaring playfully at him.

“Shut up.” You huff but then swiftly kiss him. Soon enough you become one again with the man taking root in your heart.

Early the next morning, when he thinks you’re asleep, Javier’s fingertips trace over your face with butterfly wing delicateness.

“So fuckin’ crazy about you, baby.” He whispers to your unknowing sleeping form. You feel your heart blossom, a morning bloom wanting to keep him tangled in your soul for as long as he’ll stay.

You think again of two lonely birds on the wire, maybe not so lonely anymore.

With a soft kiss goodbye against your forehead Javi heads out and you soak molten in his words.

You end up not seeing him for a few days. Over the phone he explains, annoyed, of having to run around trying to find a specific fence wire and how it’s kept him away.

Even with how much you miss him, it does allow you space.

Earlier this month, you decided on a new training schedule. Each week would alternate between practice at the Peña’s ranch and yours.

Currently practice is at your family’s ranch.

“Next time you talk to that boyfriend of yours, tell him to get tacos from that place he got us lunch from last time.” Your sister yells as she finishes up a few drills around the ring.

You roll your eyes. “He isn’t a food delivery service.”

She simply shrugs.

The day is winding down. Early evening approaches and the Texas sun starts to bathe everything in a golden glaze straight out of a George Strait song.

“You know…I’m happy for you.” As you and her start putting everything away for the day, your sister casually drops that line.

“About what?” You smirk.

“You and Javi.” She clarifies. Her face is messy with sweat but she beams bright. “You deserve someone like him.”

Your sister, always so kind, maybe too kind for a world this harsh sometimes.

“What? Someone who always manages to steal the last biscuit or flirts with grandma more and more everyday?” You tease and your little sister snickers.

“Well yeah. But what I mean is…you deserve someone who sees how great you are.”

Her words crash into you with a tidal wave of emotions. Her attention rests with her horse, getting in a few final brushes before she turns in for the day.

“I know you… think you’re some sort of failure or that you’re not good. But you are. You’re actually the fucking best.” She says so simply. “And I’m happy Javi sees it too.”

Tears clog your eyes and dry out your throat.

“You sound like a bad hallmark card.” You laugh watery but the gratitude flows out.

Your sister glares then throws the grooming brush at you. You laugh harder when she misses and once she’s out of the stable you playfully shove her.

“You heading back?” She notices your slow pace that hangs back.

You reassure her you’ll be home in a minute and just need a few minutes to yourself. With an understanding nod she walks back to the house.

Now alone you head to the very last stable and head to your ace. You miss your old companion and seeing this sweet creature nudge his muzzle against your hand conjures a sad nostalgic tug in your heart.

Grabbing the saddle, and untangling the reign, you head out to the ring.

You’ve been talking about your old rodeo days with Javi a lot recently. You ask him about Columbia as well. In the sacred soft space of pillow talk. you and him gently unravel more memories, more secrets to each other. It’s made you nostalgic, even a bit wistful.

Plus, you haven’t done this in a while. You frequently rode at a leisurely place along the trails by the river from time to time. But getting into the ring is still so sacred.

With your horse all set, you hoist yourself up and onto the saddle.

Just a few laps is all you do. You focus on the sound of the dirt under the hooves, the light breeze on your face, the feel of riding again.

Then, after gaining more confidence, you speed up.

It’s not even close to the speeds you used to hit, but it’s quick. You even make a lap around the ring going this speed.

One rotation, one good lap and you’re soaring.

It’s nothing. It’s not even an attempt to get back into the rhythm of racing. But it’s a ride and home in its own way.

You slow down, let the horse trot out of his groove to calm down. The entire time, your chest feels so light.

Your eyes glance out and then your heart drops.

Javi, with his flat out jaw dropped, stares at you as if you’ve spouted wings. You didn’t even hear him approach.

He breathes out your name.

Scrambling, a bit embarrassed, you quickly dismount, and after guiding the horse to the side you rush towards him.

You’re about to apologize for not noticing him when Javier ends up speaking first.

“You’re incredible.” He exhales in awe and it knocks the wind from you.

He must see whatever emotion colors your face because he repeats himself again firmer.

“You’re amazing, bandita.”

You weakly laugh thanking him.

“Does that mean-”

“Nah,” you gently cut him off and explain how you just enjoy a ride like that from time to time.

“It’s like just taking a casual drive type thing.” You shrug.

Suddenly Javi’s hand moves to rest on your arm leaning against the fence. He rubs so soft and comfortingly.

“Thank you,” he says gently. “For letting me know you.”

You want him to know every inch of you. The same way you want to know Javier in every way that you can. You want to carve out a home in your heart for him.

The hand that was on your arm moves to your cheek tilting your face towards his. He wears his classic aviator sunglasses you’ve grown fond of stealing from him.

He’s so gorgeous. It’s like the Texas sun was made to bask Javi in its glow. He’s a modern Helios, beautifully crafted with his deep earthy eyes and golden face.

“Proud of you, mi bandita.” He mutters with words soaked in adoration.

You swallow hard and let the truth sink into you.

“Thank you Javi… I’m proud of you too.” You earnestly tell him.

He snorts bashfully and you think you might be doomed to think about this man forever now, but it’s alright.

There’s something foreign in your chest growing so bright you feel as if you’ve swallowed a sun and maybe you have. Because Javier is bright, so unexpectedly warm.

A man crafted right out of the Texas golden magic hour.

And as Javi leans forward to kiss you so tenderly, you step forward into the sun, into his kaleidoscopic glow and it’s beautiful.

[jebewonmorelike]

Your Wish Is Granted

(part one) (part two) wc: 2.6k warnings: light swearing, a bit of angst, fluffy ending pronouns: none used; n/a (reader is a trainee on boys planet, but it's just a story-- you can pretend any gender is allowed to compete, it doesn't affect the story!) summary: it's been radio silence from park hanbin ever since his favoritetrainee!reader left after the second elimination. did hanbin forget about them? is he interested in someone new? and will this potential couple be able to reconcile at the finale? 👀 ~bp masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ i KNOW y'all didn't see this coming but... my pal bp-zb1fics kind of convinced me like a week ago lol everyone say thank you lexxxx. i LOVE how this turned out. this is a text AND written fic and i think it's super fun this way. i hope you enjoy this final installment of phanbin x favoritetrainee!reader :)

╭──────────.★..─╮ april 7th ╰─..★.──────────╯

~

"BITCH WHAT!?" Woongki shouts into the phone immediately after you pick up. "What happened!?"

You sigh. "Nothing happened... I guess that's the problem."

"But you kissed him!" He exclaims. "And he said he wouldn't forget about you!"

A sad laugh escapes your lips. "I thought maybe you were all just super busy preparing for the Artist Battle, and I totally understand that. But the more you texted me over the last two weeks and the longer I went with radio silence from him..."

Woongki is uncharacteristically quiet on the other end of the phone.

"What?" You ask, a little seed of worry sprouting in you. "What's wrong?"

"But I saw him on his phone every night," he says softly. "I thought he was texting you."

Your heart sinks to your stomach. Was it true? Had Hanbin really moved on to someone new?

"I'm so sorry, babe," Woongki comforts. "I don't know for sure that he was texting someone else, but..."

"But what other explanation could there be?" You finish his thought for him.

"Ugh!" He groans in frustration. "How could Hanbin do that? I never could've imagined that he'd play with your feelings like that."

You're not quite sure what to say. A lump growing in your throat, you try to force out some nonchalant response but you just can't.

"Hey," Woongki coos, clearly just as upset as you are-- if not more. "Do you want me to go beat him up for you?"

The thought of Woongki and Hanbin in a fist fight is enough to make you reluctantly laugh. "Are you sure you'd win that fight?"

"Okay, rude," he responds, a pout audible in his tone. "Seriously though. Should I go talk to him? Ask him what his deal is?"

You have to admit it's a little tempting. The past two weeks were hard enough wondering when Hanbin was finally going to send you a message. But now, thinking that it could be because he isn't interested in you anymore-- and didn't even have the decency to let you know.

"I don't think it's a good idea," you decide finally. "I don't want him knowing I've wasted so much time and energy thinking about him when he didn't miss me at all."

"(Y/N)," Woongki sighs sadly. "You don't need to feel bad for any of this. He deserves to feel bad for this!"

"I knowww," you respond softly, trying to force a smile back on your face despite the situation. "I love you, Woongki boy. You're literally the best."

"Are you free tomorrow?" He asks excitedly. "We can get boba with Seowonnie and shit talk Hanbin!"

"Count me in."

~

╭──────────.★..─╮ april 13th ╰─..★.──────────╯

~

"(Y/N)!"

The sudden call of your name as you're walking down the busy street to your favorite coffee shop. You turn back around in the direction of the sound, your eyes landing on two familiar faces standing outside the salad shoppe.

"Yo, what the hell?" Kamden calls as you walk towards them slowly. "I thought you were busy this afternoon!"

Unsure of what to say as you approach Kamden and Matthew under the shoppe awning, you try not to let your uncertainty creep onto your face. "Oh hey guys!"

"Liar," Matthew mumbles, a little suspicious pout on his lips.

You roll your eyes, a laugh now escaping you. "You guys are so needy. I'm just grabbing coffee quickly before I get back to studying."

"Look at you, smartypants," Kamden teases, taking a sip of his iced tea.

"Why are you guys all the way out in this part of the city?" You ask curiously. "Had to be a bit of a bus ride."

"Hanbin wanted to come here actually," Matthew explains with a shrug. "He said he and Taerae had been talking about it."

You frown. "Oh."

Your eyes widen when Matthew's words finally register in your brain. The whole reason you'd said no to lunch with the boys in the first place was because Hanbin would be there.

"Um, where--... Where is Hanbin?" You ask, looking around nervously.

"I knew you'd want to get a glimpse of your boyfriend," Kamden says, smirking.

Matthew shakes his head uncertainly. "Taerae and Hanbin have been attached at the hip lately. Every time I see them, they're always whispering about something."

Your eyebrows raise as you consider this. Could the person Hanbin's been texting every night be... Kim Taerae?

"Really?" Kamden asks, frowning. "I haven't noticed."

"I mean, even right now," Matthew continues, pointing to the salad shop behind him. "They're both still in there after they told us to wait outside for a minute."

Your stomach flips a bit at this revelation. Taerae had always been so supportive of your little crush on Hanbin-- even when you weren't ready to admit it yet. Had he secretly been plotting against you this whole time?

"I'm sorry guys," you apologize quickly, starting to back away from Matthew and Kamden. "I really have to get going now. Text me next time you're going out-- I'll try to make it!"

"Good luck with your schoolwork!" Matthew calls, waving at you.

Kamden smiles, but you can see the slight suspicion in his eyes. "See you soon, (Y/N)!"

You walk back in the direction of your apartment, giving up on your coffee for today.

~

╭──────────.★..─╮ april 19th ╰─..★.──────────╯

~

"Who are you texting?" Woongki asks, lying upside down on your couch-- his hair gently scraping the carpet as his face grows a bit redder every minute.

You groan, "Taerae."

"NO!" Woongki screams, haphazardly maneuvering himself until he's sitting upright. "Oh my god, what did he say?"

"He asked if I was coming tomorrow," you answer, rolling your eyes. "Obviously I'm coming tomorrow. I have to. Everybody has to."

"Yeah, right? I wonder why he'd ask you that," he muses, pushing his lips into a pout. "Maybe he wants to confront you publicly!"

You think about quiet Taerae for a moment. His big, dorky glasses, his broad, dimpled smile... his incredibly endearing loser energy. You couldn't imagine that Taerae was planning to humiliate you in front of all of your friends. On the other hand, you couldn't have imagined before a week ago that Taerae would potentially steal your crush from you.

"I doubt it," you respond.

"Hmm," Woongki hums. "I guess he could be asking for Hanbin? Being his little spy."

"Maybe," you agree, picking up your phone again and scrolling to Hanbin's contact. "You don't think this is my fault right?"

"Your fault!?" Woongki exclaims, outstretching his arms to you. You take both his hands in yours as you sit on the floor in front of him. "How would it be your fault!?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to date a loser," you say, sulking dramatically.

"Well who would?" Woongki asks, grinning. "Good thing you're not one."

"What would I do without you?" You ask rhetorically, resting your chin on his leg.

"Die," he says matter-of-factly. "You'd die."

"I'd also have no one to paint my nails for the finale."

"Exactly as I said," he responds with a grin, sifting through the container of your nail polishes before pulling out a steel blue color. "You'd die."

~

╭──────────.★..─╮ april 20th ╰─..★.──────────╯

~

You're surprised your bottom lip hasn't started bleeding yet considering how much you've been chewing at it. Your blazer constricting you slightly, you roll your shoulders back hoping to stretch the fabric slightly and relieve the binding tension.

Hwang Minhyun is about to finally announce P09 after an absolutely nail-biting four hours. Poor little Yujin has to go home in literal minutes, so Minhyun has started rushing like crazy.

You watch as Hanbin presses his lips together, wringing his hands as he waits nervously-- Minhyun speeding up the reading of the result greatly as compared to P08-P01.

"The trainee in Ninth Place and therefore taking the final spot in ZeroBaseOne..." Minhyun pauses, because he just can't help himself. "Is..."

"Han Yujin!"

You jump to your feet as all of your fellow trainees do, showing your support for the young boy. But your eyes are still fixed on Hanbin. He's smiling, nodding as he accepts his fate. You think that maybe he knew the chances were slim...

But, as you know all too well, preparation doesn't make it hurt any less.

Seowon rests his head on your shoulder from behind you. "Are we happy? Are we sad?"

You sigh. "Both."

The finale ends and all of the trainees start making their rounds; congratulating your friends or consoling them. You give Kamden a huge hug, joking that now you both can debut together.

The celebration moves backstage as the arena begins to empty. You're jumping up and down with Matthew when you feel a buzz in your pocket.

~

~

You look up at Matthew, sighing as you smile apologetically. "I've been summoned."

"Go talk to your boyfriend!" Matthew encourages, pushing you off down the hall. "I'm sure he's eager to see you."

"Right," you mumble, making your way to the door labeled 'East Wing'. "Boyfriend."

You pull the door open, surprised when the hallway is completely empty. You walk forward cautiously, wondering if Hanbin is actually playing some mean prank on you.

"Boo."

You jump, your hand clutching your heart as you try to catch your breath. You turn around to find Hanbin grinning at you.

"Am I really that scary?" He teases. You look down to see a little purple gift bag in his hands.

But the adrenaline is pumping through you now as a result of his little entrance. Not stopping to think it through, you find yourself suddenly laying into him:

"Are you kidding me!? You don't text me for a whole month and you think you can just walk up behind me, give me a heart attack, and then act like nothing's happened?"

Hanbin's head tilts to the side confusedly. "What do you--?"

"I get it-- believe me!" You cut him off. "You don't like me anymore. You like Taerae. That's fine."

"I like Taerae!?"

"I know! I just said I get it. You can like each other all you want. But you could've at least done me the courtesy of texting me and telling me. I was..."

You falter, a lump beginning to build in your throat. Hanbin's just blinking back at you, eyes wide in surprise. "I was really worried about you," you manage to say. "And I missed you. And to find out you didn't give a shit about me the whole time!? I can't believe you, Park Hanbin!"

Taking a breath, you look at Hanbin now. He's biting his lip, corners of his mouth turned up-- clearly trying to keep himself from smiling.

Your brow furrows confusedly. "Why--... Why are you--?"

"God I like you so much," he says, finally breaking out into a grin. "So, so much."

"What?" You ask, taken aback by his unexpected sentiment. "No you don't. You didn't text me for a month!"

"No," Hanbin responds, pressing his lips together. "You didn't text me for a month."

You blink back at him; unsure of what to say. "Wh--... What do you mean?"

"You never gave me your number."

Oh fuck.

"I put mine in your phone before the second elimination, but... you never gave me yours," he explains, visibly enjoying the look of horror and shame that is playing out on your face.

After a long moment, all you can manage to squeak out is: "Oh."

Hanbin's brow raises expectantly. "So is there any of your little spiel before this that you'd like to take back now?"

You nod pitifully. "Yes."

"Which part?"

"All of it," you mumble. "I'm so sorry."

"That's what I thought you'd say," he says with a smirk before his expression softens. "And I'll forgive you."

"Really?" You respond hopefully.

"Of course," Hanbin affirms with a nod. "But..."

"Oh no."

"I just think that if you got to tell me off," he says, giving you a mischievous smile. "Then I should get to tell you off, too."

Your bottom lip tucks between your teeth as you smile sheepishly. "I guess it's only fair, yeah."

Hanbin smiles at you fondly before a melodramatic dramatic anger suddenly shifts his expression. "HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE TEXTED ME FOR A WHOLE MONTH!? I kept waiting for you to text me or call me or, god forbid Facetime me so I could see your adorable face! I was so worried about you. Not to mention, I missed you so much."

Your heart melts at his words; so ashamed you'd been so silly.

"AND THEN," Hanbin continues, his eyes narrowing. "To hear that you had the time to text Woongki and Kamden and Taerae but not me!? I thought you didn't like me anymore. I was devastated."

He pouts, his brow furrowing cutely as your heart pounds in your chest. You ask quietly, "Why didn't you just ask someone for my number?"

"BE. CAUSE," he sighs dramatically, emphasizing each syllable. "I didn't want to seem clingy or anything."

You throw your arms around Hanbin, unable to hold back any longer. Squeezing him tightly, you feel him reciprocate the embrace-- one arm snaked around your waist and the other holding your back comfortingly.

"So you're not dating Taerae?"

"Ew, no. I'm not dating Taerae," he says with a laugh, pulling back from the hug to see your face. "Taerae's just the one person I was confiding in about you. I didn't want any of the other trainees gossiping too much about you."

"Of course," you say sadly. You should've known Hanbin had actually just been trying to protect you.

Hanbin holds out the purple gift bag to you now with a smile. "Taerae actually told me that you'd mentioned you liked that salad shoppe we went to for lunch last week. I actually got you a gift card after we ate when Kamden said you couldn't come that day."

"You are the sweetest ever... and I'm an idiot," you say, shaking your head as you continue to grip onto each other for dear life. "But I have to go now."

"What?" He asks, brow furrowing confusedly. "What do you mean? Where are you going? I'm coming with you."

Lacing your fingers in his, you begin to pull him with you down the hallway and back towards the dressing room area.

"I owe the new main vocalist of ZeroBaseOne a little apology."

“Eh, I think he can wait,” Hanbin says suddenly, smirking as he stops walking. You try to keep pulling him forward, but he’s fixed to the floor like a stone statue. Curse those perfect dancer muscles.

“Hanbinnie,” you whine, stepping towards him with a pout.

“(Y/N),” he says softly, giving your arm a small tug until your faces are inches apart. He seems to admire you for a moment, studying every inch of your face until his lips are on yours.

You’re lost in the moment, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer to you. You don’t even consider where you are or who could see you and take a picture and ruin both of your careers. You’re too busy finally kissing Hanbin after a whole month of absolute insanity. And it's everything you'd wished for and more...

“Oh my god,” a voice calls behind you. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

Entirely caught off guard, you’re immediately set into panic mode. You detach every part of your body from Hanbin’s and jump at least two feet away from him.

“APOLOGIZING TO TAERAE!” You shout the first thing that pops into your head before turning around to see who is watching you.

Taerae frowns, brow furrowing nervously. “You… You’re apologizing to me by making out with Hanbin?”

You and Hanbin turn to look at each other, equally shocked by being caught. After a moment, you both turn back to Taerae and nod; simultaneously answering, “Yes.”

Taerae stares at you for a second before finally shrugging:

“Apology accepted.”

[commander-diomika]

Pspsps come get your angst and inevitable betrayals. (Part One) (Part Two) Part 3 - Fandom: Rusty Quill Gaming Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Rating: Upped to Mature for graphic depiction of blood/injuries Word Count: ~2200 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Rating Will Change to Explicit in Later Parts, Opposites Attract, Blood and Injury, Angst

Summary: "The longer they stayed, the more it delayed real progress on the mission. Hope had borne them this long, but Zolf knew by the heaviness in his heart, it was time to consider saying goodbye. In more ways than one.

He didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Wilde that it was time to stop gambling on the chance that they might see the party again. There was a tragedy in the shape of an executioner’s axe hanging over them both, and Zolf was about to give the nod to drop it."

It's all fun and games until someone loses their smile.

Six days after Bosie’s arrival.

Zolf was walking back to the safe house from the temple of Hephaestus. It had been locked up tight, and there was no response to his hammering on the door.

I think it might be time to move on from this city, he thought. The ringing of his unanswered knocks at the temple had rung with a kind of finality. Both he and Wilde had held on here longer than they should, making any excuse they could to stay put in their current safehouse. Hoping to hear from Hamid and Sasha. Zolf and Wilde clung to Damascus, praying that any day word would come through. If they just stayed in the last place the other party members had been seen, it might make them easier to find. Hoping, hoping, hoping.

But the longer they stayed, the more it delayed real progress on the mission. Hope had borne them this long, but Zolf knew by the heaviness in his heart, it was time to consider saying goodbye. In more ways than one.

He didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Wilde that it was time to stop gambling on the chance that they might see the party again. There was a tragedy in the shape of an executioner’s axe hanging over them both, and Zolf was about to give the nod to drop it.

“Ho, Wilde!” Zolf called, coming through the door. He sighed as he unslung his pack from his shoulders, thinking about how best to broach it.

When a few silent moments passed, Zolf surfaced from the depths of his thoughts, noticing that there was no response from within the townhouse. “Douglas?” he added uncertainly.

There was every chance the two of them were cozied up in Wilde’s room again. Zolf had seen a lot less of Wilde this week than usual, and he wasn’t looking forward to prying Wilde out of his torrid nest to have a hard conversation. Whilst it wasn’t any of Zolf’s business who Wilde took to bed, it was Zolf’s business that Wilde was... distracted. And if Wilde was planning on keeping Bosie around...

Depressed about the notion of so many hard conversations threatening, Zolf clanged his glaive into the weapons rack in the entry hall and threw down his bag, heading to the sitting room.

Shock has a way of warping perception, of making a mind skitter when it should seize. For instance, as he reached the door, the first thing that Zolf noticed was that the settee was the wrong colour, instead of Wilde’s bloodied body atop it.

Zolf swore, feeling like his legs wouldn’t respond, like everything moved slowly as the view properly hit him.

It felt like an age before he could move. Wilde’s upper half was drenched in blood, the couch dark and dripping with it.

“Wilde?” Zolf asked, almost inanely, as if expecting a response. Wilde had fallen back as if pushed, limbs splayed. The blood was leaking from multiple messy slices across his torso, darkening the soft turquoise shirt to a purple-black. That was shocking enough, but the real horror was Wilde’s cheek, sliced from temple to lips in a vicious, loose flap. Already Zolf was pulsating with healing light as he ran over, years of combat experience overriding the dumb shock. He nearly slipped in the growing pool of blood.

The wave of power emanating from Zolf slid like oil around Wilde’s body, none of it sinking it.

The cuffs! Zolf could have screamed. He yanked up the hems of Wilde’s pants. He snapped the cuffs off with strangely steady hands and blasted the man with magic.

“Don’t move!” Zolf cried. Can he move? Will he move? Zolf’s hands were slick within moments of touching Wilde’s face, the blood still oozing from the wound. Zolf’s stomach lurched, but he remained focused. He drew the two loose parts of Wilde’s cheek together before slamming more magic through it, his mind a horrified buzz. The point of a safehouse was that it was safe!

Wilde was trying to speak.

“Don’t! Just let me- don’t talk, Wilde, just wait.” There was so much blood- this kind of precision surgical work was better done by, well, surgeons, not hackneyed ex clerics who weren’t even sure why their magic still worked.

Zolf felt the loose pieces of skin begin to knit themselves back together beneath his hands, and no more blood flowed from the chest wounds. Zolf had a brief and horrifying flashback to Sasha, in pieces, her organs floating like a halo around her lifeless body. He didn’t want to keep getting his friends' blood on his hands, even if it was in the service of saving them.

Wilde weakly tried to push Zolf’s hands away and went to speak again through the ruin of his face.

“Don’t worry about me,” he managed this time. “Go after Bosie!”

“Stop! Talking!” Zolf replied, besides himself with anger, incredibly relieved that Wilde was conscious. “Wait- Bosie did this?”

Wilde was awake enough to hold a hand over his cheek and sit up. His face was painted stark red from the bridge of the nose down. His head had slumped to one side, wound facing up, blood flowing down; the effect was like he was wearing a shiny maroon bandana over nose and mouth. But his eyes were remarkably clear and angry.

“Yes. I don’t know- he turned, it wasn’t him anymore, or something took over him. He tried to take me with him and I- I fought back and-” Wilde went to stand, hand still clasped over his face. “I think he heard you- shit, Zolf.” Wilde’s eyes flicked around frantically, looking for the man who attacked him.

“Easy, easy.” Zolf stopped Wilde from rising and as he did, Wilde’s fire seemed to go out. Zolf kept talking. “It’s alright. It’s not important right now.” Zolf’s gut swooped with guilt as he looked at the wound. He’d gotten here just in time, but Wilde wasn’t walking away from this without scarring. “Just let me take care of it, ok?”

Zolf reached and cupped Wilde’s bloody cheek in one hand. Wilde half-closed his eyes and leant into the touch, breathing shakily. Zolf had been about to push more healing magic through the cheek, but he froze at the sensation of Wilde’s lips and breath against his blood-slick hand. Alive. Zolf had gotten here in time and his droll, irritating, shallow co-conspirator was alive.

Suddenly Wilde’s eyes flew open. “No!” he shouted and leapt to his feet, knocking Zolf’s hand aside. He looked completely deranged. “Get away!” Zolf backed up a few steps, hands outstretched as if he were taming a wild animal.

“I- Argh! He was infected!” Wilde clenched the tattered shirt to his chest, as though trying to hold his whole self together. “We spent this whole week together, in bed, fucking, kissing! You need to stay away!”

The wind went completely out of Zolf’s sails, his breath leaving him in an instant. Wilde was only semi-conscious and still reeling. Zolf would be impressed at Wilde’s acumen whilst distressed, if the point he had made wasn’t completely terrifying. Zolf took a few steps backward without realising.

“Wait, Wilde, just wait.” Zolf was still catching up. “You said, he tried to take you away. If you were already infected all he had to do was wait, righ’? A week, Curie said, all of her double agents lasted less than a week before they turned on people.”

“We can’t know that! Maybe he was just getting a head start! Fuck!” Wilde’s cheek started to bleed again with the strength of his swear.

Zolf had backed all the way to the other side of the room, only noticing when his arse gently bumped the wall. “The cuffs, Wilde.” He was grasping, but he desperately needed to find the right words to say to take that hellish look off Wilde’s face. “If it’s at all magical in nature, maybe the cuffs protected you.”

Wilde’s head snapped around frantically. In the carnage, he hadn’t realised they’d been taken off. He spotted them, discarded by the low table and moved to them.

“Wait, at least let me-” Unwilling to come closer, Zolf simply radiated as much healing as he could muster. Wilde, eyes unfathomably dark, nodded his thanks as he snapped the cuffs back on. He’d been on the brink for a moment there, terror threatening to snap him, but Zolf’s words, and the Stockholm-syndrome familiarity of the weight around his ankles had brought him back from whatever edge he’d been teetering on.

Wilde’s mouth twisted. He’d taken as much healing as Zolf could jam into him, but the scar was there to stay. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Zolf, you’re going to go up to my room and bar the window. I don’t care how you do it, move a wardrobe over it, stone shape it, whatever, but make it tight. Then I am going to go into that room, shut the door-” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “-and wait for seven days.”

Zolf gulped. “Righ-…. Right. That’s a good idea. I can bring you food and-”

“No. No food.” Wilde snapped. “No opening the door. Not if I beg, not if I scream. Not for anything.”

Zolf’s mouth was agape, trying desperately to catch up to Wilde, to meet him wherever he had gone. “No food? Don’t be daft, you’ll die.”

Wilde’s head snapped to the side, then to the other. It was unclear if he was shaking his head or simply processing with his whole skull. “No, I won’t. I’ll need water but I can live without food, or whatever we’ve got in the house. What are you waiting for? Do it now!” His demeanor had snapped from terror to fury. “Every second we waste dithering about it makes it more likely that this could take you too!”

Zolf obeyed. His hands had started to shake as the crest of the crisis passed, and he stilled them by taking action. He washed the blood off himself and dutifully collected all the vases from about the place to fill with water, grabbing any food in the kitchen that wasn’t raw ingredients. It amounted to some bread and dried fruit, but Zolf was still obscenely grateful there was any ready-to-eat food in there at all. The horror inherent to spending seven days alone in a single room was starting to spread like a dark inkblot in his mind. He kept moving, as if he could outrun a stain.

It was trivial to stone shape the window closed; the townhouse wasn’t particularly big or lavish. When he stepped out of the room, Zolf was met with the ghoulish sight that was Wilde waiting for him down the corridor. He had put a jacket over his slashed shirt but hadn’t even tried to clean the blood off his face.

Zolf paused in the door, looking Wilde over. “Curie said something about- about blue veins?” he said softly. He didn’t want to ask. The last thing he wanted to say was I told you so.

“What? Everyone’s veins are blue.” Wilde’s voice was flat, emotionless. Shock was setting in properly, Zolf diagnosed.

“I dunno. It weren’t clear, but… did you notice anything? On Bosie.” It felt horrible pushing Wilde right now, but knowledge was power. Wilde in his right mind would understand.

Wilde’s eyes shifted in either shock or deception. “No. I didn’t. But we spent a lot of time with the lights off.” Wilde gave his head a little shake, as if to dislodge a memory... or stop one from surfacing.

More than the blood, it was the blankness on Wilde’s face that was most unsettling. Zolf couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Wilde without a smirk or an arched brow or, more frequently these days, a soft little smile, usually when he thought Zolf wasn’t paying attention.

“What’s done is done. Worry about the “how” if I come out the other side of this.” Wilde took a step forward, waiting for Zolf to back off. “Go to the end of the corridor. Once I’m inside, I’ll shut the door. Bar it from the outside.” Metres between them, they performed a grotesque mockery of a tango step, Zolf stepping back, Wilde stepping forward. When Wilde reached the door, he stared into his room.

“And Zolf?” Wilde didn't look over at him, considering the darkness inside as though it held a secret. Perhaps pondering the poetic implications that his love den of the last week was to be his prison for the next.

“Yeh?” Zolf knew this had to happen. Knew it was a good idea. But gods, he wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy. Wilde had just been betrayed in the most vile way, and now he had to sit in the dark with that for a week. Zolf hadn’t wanted Douglas around, but he certainly hadn’t wanted this.

“At the end of these seven days... if it’s not me in there-” Wilde finally tore his eyes away from the room and turned his gaze to Zolf’s. “-if I’m, monstrous or sick, if I try to hurt you...” He didn’t finish the thought.

“I won’t let you.” Zolf whispered through dry lips. Wilde didn’t have spell it out; they understood each other well enough by now.

Wilde nodded once, satisfied, and stepped into the dark.

[jacaranda-bloom]

October Fic Rec

I’ve been super slack in doing my monthly fic recs of late (sorry!) so this list covers the last 3 months and there’s lots of lovely fics to devour!

In this instalment, there are fics from @lesbianiconharrystyles @kingsofeverything @mediawhorefics @lululawrence @harryanthus @evilovesyou @fallinglikethis @cocoalou @gaycousinlarry @comebackassholes @daggerandrose @allwaswell16 @sadaveniren @all-these-larrythings @wait4ever @jaerie @laynefaire @harrybridgers and @missandrogyny.

Thank you to all the writers for sharing their wonderful talent with us. Please don’t forget to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoy their work. 💜

New Reads

💜 Ever Since I Tried Your Way | @lesbianiconharrystyles / flowercrownfemme | E | 26k | June 2020 | 1940′s/50′s, farm/ranch, farmer Louis, farmer Harry, virgin Harry, gay cowboys, repression, internalised homophobia, hurt/comfort, gender exploration, marriage kink, feminisation, romantic face shaving, body worship, country music | As soon as I started this fic I knew it wouldn’t be able to put it down. It’s just... gosh. The writing is stunning and I was completely immersed from the first page to the last.

💜 Have Love, Will Travel | @kingsofeverything | E | 97k | Sept 2020 | road trip, camping, friends to lovers, smut, humour, youtube, POV Louis, slow burn | God, this story was everything I wanted it to be and so much more. Amazing relationship building and great communication. Hilarious, brilliant dialogue, heartwarming.

💜 Love You In The Dark | Perzikje | E | 10k | Oct 2020 | wedding night, arranged marriage, smut, dubious consent | Sexual exploration and first times. Check authors note.

💜 All These Lights | @mediawhorefics | E | 35k | Nov 2015 | ABO, X Factor, consensual under age sex, omega Harry, alpha Louis, angst with a happy ending, smut | I’m a sucker for a good ABO fic and this one didn’t disappoint.

💜 I Go Down Blazing, Feeling Like I’m Going Crazy (series) | @lululawrence | NR | 30k | Niall / Rory McIlroy | Oct 2020 | soulmates, famous/famous, singer Niall, golfer Rory, pining, diet angst, no smut, heartbreak weather, based on Dear Patience and Bend The Rules | This was my first time reading Niall/Rory and I adored it. Brilliant take on the soulmate trope too, heartwarming and tender. 

💜 Who Do You Burn For | @harryanthus | NR | 4k | Oct 2020 | strangers to lovers, implied/referenced drug use, references to addition | I am such a massive fan of this author and I will inhale anything they publish. More like poetry than prose. So evocative.

💜 Point. Drop, Call. | @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28 | G | 1.6k | Jan 2020 | summer, best friends, summer romance, first kiss, party games, mutual crushes, coming out | This was absolutely adorable and managed to provide a whole-ass story in 1,610 words. All the summer feels.

💜 Eat Your Vegetables | bananaheathen | M | 9k | Aug 2020 | soccer player Louis, nutritionist Harry, shopping, banter, sexual realisation, smut | This fic sucked me in from the very first page, so much so that when I went back to grab the link to add to this post I ended up re-reading the entire thing. So witty and sweet and all the goodness in the world.

💜 For Wanting | anonymous | E | 5k | Oct 2020 | post mpreg Louis, male lactation, body worship, lactation kink, strangers to lovers, neighbours, dirty talk | Really sweet and hot, beautifully written. 

💜 Pillow Talk | @fallinglikethis | E | 26k | Feb 2016 | friends to lovers, sexuality crisis, first time, mutual pining | I have no idea how I’ve never read this fic. Such a clever plot and perfectly delivered. Hot and funny and sweet and all the loveliness.

💜 The End | @harryanthus | T | 5k | Aug 2020 | post-war, selectively mute Louis, soldier Harry, psychological trauma, hopeful ending, non-specific time period | This is everything I usually avoid reading but this writer’s words just do something to my brain and I let down all of my protective barriers and dive in not caring about what I’m going to be faced with. I’m yet to be disappointed. When I read their fics I always feel like I’m floating or drowning or... I don’t even know how to describe it, but yeah. Wow.

💜 The Anticipation of Knowing You | @cocoalou / sweetrevenge | T | 13k | Sept 2020 | strangers to lovers, neighbours, pen pals, love letters, baked goods as a wooing technique | This was all kinds of lovely and funny and sweet. The premise is brilliant and I understand that we’re to be blessed with parts 2 and 3 in the near future, so yay!

💜 It’s Halftime. Are You Ready To Go? | @gaycousinlarry / momentofclarity | E | 12k | Oct 2017 | friends to lovers, awkward boners, pining, banter, flirting, dirty talk, body worship, smut, watching football as a seduction technique, Niall texts Harry terrible sporting innuendos to make him sweat, jockstraps | So fucking good. Sexy and cute and funny. Could read this one again and again.

💜 Salvation Let’s Their Wings Unfold | twoshipstiedup | M | 14k | May 2019 | angels and demons, heaven and hell, angel Louis, demon Harry, humour, fluff, romance | So much love for this fic. Way less heavy than the tags suggest. Niall is both supremely unhelpful and the captain of the ship as always. Fluffy and fun and romantic.

💜 Dom Louis (series) | @comebackassholes / dimpled_halo | E | 12k | Mar 2020 | dom Louis, sub Marcel, BDSM, kink negotiation | God. This series is amazing. Hot and sweet and nnnrrgggh. Really hope we get more in this universe.

💜 For You I’d Bleed Myself Dry | @daggerandrose / amomentoflove | E | 50k | May 2019 | vampire Louis, human Harry, soulmates, king Louis, angst, depression, blood drinking, past abuse, past kidnapping | I absolutely loved this fic. Beautifully written and so thick with emotion. Check tags, summary and author notes.

💜 Interview With The Vampire | @allwaswell16 | E | 4k | Louis / Robert Pattinson | Sept 2020 | ABO, omega Louis, alpha Rob, journalist Louis, actor, Rob, interviews, humour, bad cooking, bad flirting, scenting, knotting, smut | The rare pair I never knew I needed. Wow. Brilliantly told story. Cute and cheeky and fluffy and hot. Loved it.

💜 Fellowship of Eroda | @sadaveniren | E | 5k | Feb 2020 | dungeons and dragons, gaming, hate to love, BDSM, face slapping, facials, wrestling, choking, spanking, Louis is a brat, so is Harry a bit | Adored this. Such a clever plot and the writing is amazing as always.

💜 Brooklyn Saw Me | alreadyhome | E | 29k | Nov 2017 | homeless Louis, uni student Harry, no-graphic violence, homophobia, angst, slow burn, hurt/comfort, NYC | Painfully beautiful and so well written. Loved it from start to finish.

💜 It Feels Different When You’re With Me | @all-these-larrythings / rearviewdreamer | M | 45k | May 2020 | deaf Louis, sign language instructor Harry, slow burn, mentions of major character injury in the past | God. This fic is amazing. Gorgeous writing and so romantic and sweet.

💜 You’re Music To My Eyes | @fallinglikethis @wait4ever / recycledstardust | T | 6k | July 2020 | blind Louis, Be My Eyes app, volunteer Harry, TPWK | This fic is truly wonderful, romantic and so sweet. It even encouraged me to sign up for the app and I’ve taken two calls already!

💜 We’ll Be Alright | @jaerie | E | 20k | Feb 2020 | ABO, alpha Harry, omega Louis, major illness, sick Harry, sex therapist Louis, dubious ethics, sexual dysfunction, depression, recovery, mating, knotting, unplanned pregnancy | Gosh. So good. So hot. So lovely.

💜 Let Me Be Your Everlasting Light | @laynefaire | M | 12k | Aug 2020 | established relationship, northern lights, Norway, romance, proposal | Loved every beautiful word of this. So romantic and sweet. Can I go to Norway please?

Re-Reads

💜 Here In The Afterglow | @harrybridgers / fondleeds | E | 89k | Dec 2016 | 1970′s AU, small town America, gay rights movement, period-typical homophobia, strange to friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, bullying, high school | Re-read of an old fave which hits differently each time I revisit it. Hauntingly beautiful and heartbreaking in some parts, but ultimately uplifting and hopeful.

💜 Led By Your Beating Heart | @missandrogyny | E | 30k | Oct 2015 | famous Harry, non-famous Louis, Call or Delete, Cute Lou from the Loo, coming out, smut, banter, romance | Still one of my all time faves. The plot is delicious and the flow of the whole story just makes me smile throughout. I find myself going back to this one every few months. Romantic and fluffy and sexy as all hell.

💜 Is This Seat Taken? | Lainy122 | E 35k | Dec 2015 | famous Harry, non-famous Louis, popstar Harry, seat-filler Louis (eventually), Louis and Zayn make bets, penis-shaped cashew nuts, miscommunication, shitty PR tactics | One of my all-time fave fics. I must’ve read this one more than ten times by now and it never disappoints. Funny and sweet and hot.

💜 When The Sun Won’t Let You Sleep | @allwaswell16 | E | 30k | July 2018 | enemies to lovers, scientist Louis, scientist Harry, Antarctica, sexual tension, smut, diet angst | Such an interesting plot that is handled so beautifully. I adore all of this authors work but this definitely up there with my faves.

[jlf23tumble]

Sorry to bug you and u r probably knee deep in pubes but you said something about a monthly fic rec????????????????

omg, thank you for this kick in the ass, I was JUST TALKING ABOUT IT with @pattern-pals (and how much I need to get back into moodboarding, which I suppose I’ll be doing with a big ole mess o’ pubes, ha), so don’t apologize, fic recs are fun and easy, I got this!! These are the ones I read, loved, and bookmarked for future recs last month that were RELEASED last month (February 2020), so they’re all brand new. I also read a TON of great drabbles in February, plus some updates in my favorite WIPs of the moment, and a lot of @vondrostes‘s patreon posts, too! Here are the ones on ao3:

her only hope is what she did she’ll soon forget, by jaerie, louis/harry (one direction), E, 2.2k. Harry is a single parent desperate to make ends meet and Louis is there to make it better (lactation kink, but ANGST CITY, I hope there’s another installment, this hurts so good)

choosing my confessions, by objectlesson/ @alienfuckeronmain, napoleon/illya (the man from uncle), M, 2.5k. It’s a simple, base, disgustingly carnal thing: he likes the way women’s underwear feel against his skin. (napollya is what brought us together, and I die with joy whenever Phoenix cranks out a new one)

Can We Pretend (honestly reality bores me), by @sadaveniren, louis/harry (one direction), E, 4.2k. Harry comes and supports Louis at his Scala concert (part of a canon-compliant BDSM series that’s ver’ ver’ good)

Hoist the Colours High, by @kerasines, louis/harry (one direction), M, 5.2k. A Girl Direction Pirates of the Caribbean AU featuring Harry as Will Turner and Louis as Elizabeth Swann (Kim wrote this for Blake, and it is SWOON CITY)

Better Than the Memory, by objectlesson/ @alienfuckeronmain, geralt/jaskier (the witcher), E, 7k. It’s absurd and quite shocking, really, when Jaskier starts to get hard every time he can smell Geralt of Rivia’s sweat. (I’m on episode 3//8, so I fully expect to read a LOT more soon, but I was sold on the tags alone, lmao)

Opposites Attract, by @kingsofeverything, louis/harry (one direction), E, 7k. Harry has a list of reasons he and Louis shouldn’t date. Maybe they’re more compatible than he thinks. (another one in a series that I love, and this is both cute and hot, which is Lauren’s wheelhouse, frankly)

Two Feet on the Ground, by blake/ @newleafover, han/luke (star wars), E, 10k.  Han can tell it’s Luke’s first punk show. (god, this was a joy to read, and the world that Blake is building in and around it, YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH)

Don’t Have to Be Good to My Girl, by @homosociallyyours, louis/harry (one direction), E, 12k.  When Harry discovers her daddy kink quite by accident one night, she’s surprised that it’s something both she and Louis want to explore further. (love a good daddy kink fic, girl direction, boy direction, I don’t care!)

sometimes green and sometimes blue, by itsmiz, louis/harry (one direction), E, 500k. Harry’s an omega, and Louis is an Alpha. They’re best friends growing up together on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., but they’ve always been a bit more than friends. (this one FINALLY wrapped up, after four years in the making, so I think I read one chapter this month, not all 30+, lol…a lot of my other fave WIPs updated, too, but those were just single chapters, so I’ll rec ‘em when done)

….these other two weren’t released in February, so they aren’t “new” fics, but I enjoyed ‘em all the same:

It’s About Time, by @kingsofeverything, louis/harry (one direction), G, 3.5k. Best friends and roommates, Louis and Harry have been through a lot together, including law school for Louis, marriage and divorce for Harry. Their imminent eviction forces them to admit their feelings. (LOVE older Louis and Harry!)

go out and (find a girl), by greenurr, michael latta/tom wilson (hockey rpf), E, 3.7k. Mike doesn’t want to be a girl. He’s like. Look. He’s like, 94% sure. Maybe more like an 84%. It’s not really something quantifiable. (I definitely don’t go here, though I know there are a TON of amazing fic writers in the hockey fandom…hell, most of my faves in other fandoms end up here! @silverfoxlouis rec’d this one last week, and they weren’t wrong, it was amazing, I’m curious about this writer’s other fic for sure)

[leafenclaw]

Tagged by @almostshadydelusion on two different answer games, thank you! ^^ Although I’ll admit, as I’ve been living in near complete isolation for 8 years half my answers for the first one are extremely boring, and the other half are questions about my living situation that I don’t feel comfortable answering in public. Sorry!

The other one I’m super happy to do though. =3

Rules: bold which trope you prefer (or, in some cases, maybe just hate the least!) out of each of the following pairs.

Slowburn or love at first sight

Fake dating or secret dating

Enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers

Oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence (How am I supposed to choose??? D:)

Hurt/comfort or amnesia (Amnesia usually is a form of hurt/comfort though.)

Fantasy au or modern au (*shrugs* as long as the story is good)

mutual pining or domestic bliss

smut or fluff (Both can be good but I usually need my fluff tempered with angst)

Canon-compliant or fix-it (Both can be good, but as a writer I have way more fun trying to make my own scenarios fit within the rules and events of canon. I think it provides me with a structure I have trouble coming up with on my own? It doesn’t mean canon-compliant stories cannot fix stuff that canon dropped though. *casual thumb pointing at Kindred*)

Reincarnation or character death

One-shot or multi-chapter

Kid fic or road trip fic

Arranged marriage or accidental marriage

High school romance or middle-aged romance

Time travel or isolated together (OH MY GOD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN MY FAVOURITE TROPE AND THE THING I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH SINCE CHILDHOOD)

Neighbours or roommates

Sci-fi au or magic au (*shrugs* see previous answer about AUs)

Body swap or genderbend (I love both. I’m also not sure why those two genres are so controversial lately. Two of my top favourite TM fics fall under those labels. One of them is an extraordinary Sapphic Jane/Lisbon canon-compliant retelling in three parts. It blows my mind every time I read it again and it was a huge inspiration for Kindred, which is arguably my most popular story. The other is the second instalment in an action-packed Steampunk!AU and involves Jane and Van Pelt accidentally swapping bodies. It briefly touches on issues of body/gender dysphoria and imho does it more comprehensively than most X-character-is-trans!AUs I’ve read, and as your resident non-binary pal I’ve read a lot of those.)

Angst or crack (I love both, but the definition of “crack” seems to be very different depending on authors and my appreciation of the genre depends on said definition.)

Apocalyptic or mundane (I’m not sure I understand that last one, are we still talking about AUs or general fic tone? In any case, I don’t think I have a preference as long as the story is good.)

I can’t remember which of you answered this or didn’t so if you want to do it, this is me tagging you! =3

[ragnarokdad]

OKAY LADS considering I’ve been getting a couple of q’s and prompts re: my original work and universe (which I remain baffled about but THANK YOU!), I decided to make a more comprehensive explanation of my world and characters so that it hopefully all makes a little bit more sense (and if you’re sick and tired of hearing about me gushing about my original work... I’m sorry)

Setting

So. Because I’m basic as all hell, my original work is in a sci-fi setting, in a solar system called Arcturus. It’s very Mass-Effect-y in the sense that it’s all set after the expansion from the planet Terra, to all the other planets in the solar system- Avo, Juni, the Lutuma Cluster, Silvis, Dolium and Copium. Avo, Terra and Juni are known as the Inner Planets.

I could go on and on about how the expansion worked and who lives where and what this is all based off of but that may be a little much for one explanation post. In any case, most of my writing is set in and around Juni, the first planet that was inhabited after the expansion into space began. 

Juni has a moon called Pan, and you’re about to see some strong Ursula K. le Guin influences here (who is my favourite writer In The World). Pan is a base for pirating, but also for resistance movements. It’s lawless and seen as dangerous, so naturally it is where most of my story is set. 

Characters

Alright, so the ‘main character’ (or just the character I enjoy writing the most) is William Wick, or Will. He’s from Juni, and was lured into a resistance movement at age 15. Despite being critical of his early recruitment to the movement, he stays on Pan and works with various pirating and resistance groups before eventually joining the larger group called the Verzet and working his way up to the leader’s right-hand-man at age 25. His family is still alive and well on Juni, ‘cause I ain’t no angsty bitch who’s gonna give all her original characters dead parents. 

Okay this is already getting longer than I expected, so the rest of the characters and even more information is under the cut: 

Will has a crew of five on his ship, the Conrad. 

Nina Kay is the ship’s navigator, and if this were a TV show she’d be a hot contender for the actual main character. She’s the youngest, a girl from Terra who moved to Juni for school and promptly dropped out when the war in Arcturus worsened. She began helping with smuggling missions for the Verzet in the docks of Juni’s capital, Laika, but eventually moved to Pan to join Will’s crew. 

Robin Marquez is the Conrad’s main pilot most of the time. They’re by far the most badass of the crew. They were a pilot in the Inner Planet Alliance (see below for details) before realising the shady political situation and subsequently joined the Verzet instead. The best pilot the resistance has, and also Will’s best pal. 

Leona, or Leo, the ship’s engineer, is originally from Copium, but moved to Juni as a child due to complicated political reasons oh my god why did I add so many political layers to this world. The point is, she never really finished school or anything and worked instead until she got a few gigs as an engineer on military ships, but eventually joined the Verzet to be an engineer for them because of how sketchy the military is. She’s also 6′2 and Swole. 

Caroline Novak, or Carol, is the oldest member of the crew, having been around since the last war in the Inner Planets, where she worked on Avo, which sucked. She joined resistance groups there, and as years went on and she watched the solar system descend into yet another war, she moved to Juni and ended up on Will’s crew. She acts as a mentor to Will, despite him having a higher rank than her. 

Alistair Bishop-Herveux is from the prosperous Lutuma Cluster, the son of famous media star Elana Bishop. In a fit of rich kid angst, he joined the Verzet to stick it to the man and promptly accidentally fell in love with Will and didn’t really leave. I love him even though he is definitely The Worst. My oldest character, modelled off of Montparnasse from Les Mis back in 2014, and despite the fact that I’ve grown a lot as a writer since then, I never really changed him. 

Political Backdrop 

To make things just that bit more complicated, there’s a whole political things going on in the backdrop of all this. 

So. The Inner Planets had a big ol’ war for a while that left them run down and unappealing- many people moved to the Lutuma Cluster during and after this war. To end the war, Lutuma created the Inner Planet Alliance (IPA) and installed the crownsguard and their own government heads on the planets to keep the peace. The Verzet was created in retaliation to that. 

The Cluster is a wealthy collection of moons surrounding the planet Lutuma, where innovation and business is key. They (illegally) occupied parts of Copium, the planets with the most resources, to help with their own businesses, never giving back to the communities that they were taking from. 

After they left, Copium attacked the moon Europa in the Lutuma Cluster, which was unsuccessful. Despite this, Lutuma retaliated by creating the Europa Fleet- a military alliance that united the military powers of Silvis and the Lutuma Cluster. 

In response to that, Copium and Dolium created the Colium Union, which Lutuma saw as a threat and subsequently attacked Dolium for. And so begins the war. 

In a bid for power, The Europa Fleet created the Ceres Union, which united the Europa Fleet and the Alliance- so that’s Avo, Terra, Juni, the Lutuma Cluster and Silvis all working together against Copium and Dolium. 

However, the Alliance has next to no resources and isn’t a very strong power. Additionally, most resistance groups in the Inner Planets are working with the Colium Union to aid them into defeating Lutuma. And that’s where our story starts. 

The gist of the political situation is essentially Colonialism, Imperialism and Capitalism is bad. 

[contact--light]

a promptis fic catalogue post

note: I made this as like my own personal directory type thing when if I suddenly have the urge to reread a particular fic I already read, I would look at this and be like oh yeah that’s the bitch

all these fics are completed and are as promptis-centric as possible, so I put down other pairs that also feature in the stories (sadly, I don’t do ot3/ot4). please note I still have a ton of other promptis to read too so if u don’t see a fic that’s like THE ONE ppl have read, that’s bcos I’m still finding the time to read it in one go (can’t read fics on and off or else I’ll get side-tracked and forget the plot completely)

ALSO each and every story absolutely bangs so I put a little comment about them so if the authors ever see this, know I am incredibly sorry if I have offended you with how I worded my praises, but know that they are praises of the highest calibre that I can write this is why I’m not a writer lmao

ALSO possible spoiler alert for the main game and the fics I rec. it’s a ‘fic directory’, not a well written one but it’s good enough for me and if other people enjoy it, very cool, I like u, let’s be pals

Links to the story and links to the author’s other promptis works are provided (if available)

ANYWAY, on to the nitty gritty! There is no god in the order I rec these fics, absolutely no order, except the end of the list are the mega angsty fics but aside from that, again, there is no god in this list.

lucidus by scylaire

12,270 words | Rated T

this au is so feel good like minimal angst (but bcos resident emo prince just can’t be himself w/out some angst), mad fluff bcos of cuddle buddy prompto, and they in college. all in all, a very nice fic

runaway by tenzoh

70,828 words | Rated M

other pairs: minor lunyx

I can’t believe this fic broke into my house and straight up murdered me. I love this one and will reread this again when the other fics aren’t trying to barge through my door like I’m dodging tax. this canon divergence goodness is based on if no one fucking died, which is a godsend of a fic already, and oho u might think ‘oh that’s good!’ that no one dies, well tru but the dRAMA and the SCANDAL and noct’s priorities man oh man

the loveless prince by niuniu

196,869 words | Rated T

this absolute unit took me 4 days to read despite having work and uni bcos it had one of my fave tropes: soulmate au, so I was instantly hooked, it’s also somewhat canon divergence bcos noct is still a prince and the astrals are around but bruv, every chapter I finish got me thinkin like “what happens next will shock u”; absolutely gripping stuff ‘eva is a story that repeats’

cactus in the valley by liziscribbles

112,330 words Rated M

other pairs: gladnis, iris/aranea

another absolute unit of an college au that has all the ingredients of a wonderful soap opera (as is promised on the fic’s tags): DRAMA ✅ DISASTER ✅ LOVE ✅ RESOLUTION ✅ ARDYN ✅ liziscribbles writes a TON of promptis, I swear I’ve read most of them and I rate them so check their other stuff out too

in another time by dragongem777 & kiacoral

85,687 words | Rated ehh I’ll guess about M

other pairs: mad gladnis happenin outchea

I’m hesitant to call this a canon divergence bcos it’s based on the main storyline but it’s essentially a reincarnation au and BOY DOES IT DELIVER. the lads one by one recall their past lives and we follow their journey on how they find each other and how prom and noct fall in love all over again #the gladnis is pretty heavy in this one

the royal wedding of noctis and prompto by latias_likes_pizza

6975 words | Rated G

other pairs: gladnis, lunyx and cindy/aranea

I read this when I feel down bcos it’s my pick-me-up fic, this is the promptis royal wedding ending we all deserve and more, you can really feel the love in this fic and I can’t emphasise enough how much I adore this work

emperor who? by andromedas_void

3,817 words | Rated G

I really rate this fic bcos I like emperor prompto aus and I really beg for more of this goodness, this has tons of potential but it’s terrific as a standalone piece

the last prince of tenebrae by oh my fae

21,694 words | Rated M

Oh my fae? More like Oh my DAY...S. I haven’t read this for the second time in ages but I remember feeling really good about reading this and I saved it on my phone’s bookmarks so that must deffo mean it bangs. this is another prince prompto au but if he was the 3rd nox fleuret sibling wHICH at the time I found this was (lady gaga) SPECTACULAR, NEVER THE SAME, TOTALLY UNIQUE, COMPLETELY NOT EVER BEEN DONE BEFORE

affogato by moonside

55,442 words | Rated E for hEhEhEhEhE noice

other pairs: bare gladnis

most works by moonside are actually so good so go check their whole ffxv works out too if u like this one. I’m gonna be completely honest, based on emotional memory, this fic made me feel good but the actual plot of this fic? A-FFO-GA-TO (get it? I forgot tho, whatevs man I think that’s funny) but from what I can probs remember is this is a coffee shop au with gladnis drama AND if u like gladnis there’s a second instalment that is gladnis drama heavy

to build a home by just_peachy

61,642 words | Rated M

other pairs: gladnis, lunyx, cindy/aranea

hello, this is another case of “I swear I read this bcos I have a good feeling about this fic but I can’t recall the plot to save my life but my heart says I likes the fic so I’m gonna go with that” plus its by just_peachy who has done TREMENDOUS amount of work and you can really see them progress in their skills as a writer, reading from their past to current stories so I always look forward to any future fics they complete bcos they deliver with quantity and increasing quality as well but I’m digressing, this one is a soulmate au which is an au I ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO READ and  it’s a modern au (business instead of royalty) AND prom finally gets to be the photographer he’s always wanted to be

secrets by trirocksalt

4785 words Rated G for GOD THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE

while I was undergoing my second playthrough of ffxv, and (finally) went to altissia-- although it IS beautiful, I miss the chocobos and the fucking car and just not being able to be restrained to travel by city walls and social pressures by not sprinting in public and dON’T GET ME STARTED WITH THE GONDOLA SYSTEM— due to my frustrations, I remembered this feel good fic, where it’s like noctis is taking over as CEO for regis’ massive business and prompto as a gondolier, and it took me SO LONG to find this fic again, and being in altissia made my heart so heavy so this was the perfect fic to get me through the shitstorm that is chapter 9

croquis by peonysoda

43,113 word | Rated T

PEONYSODA TAKE MY HEART all their promptis stuff ARE ABSOLUTE GEMS! this is a college au where noct has to model for a figure drawing class aND CAN U GUESS WHO’S IN THAT CLASS?!??!

something just like this by yuneyn

42,712 words | Rated M for Mecessary smut

this fic is literally like as if it cleared the dark rainclouds from a bad storm and descended from the heavens with open arms, rays of light shining behind it, to offer you salvation; in other words, this fluff-a-mania of a fic is all feel good no bad shit happening here and it DELIVERS, bcos I’m so used to expecting bad stuff happening when the couple gets together very early, but this fic doesn’t do that, nah mate, but it does make dino look like the bad(abing badaboom) guy but eh, u get over it. this ‘stuck-in-the-airport’ au will have u grinning from ear to ear throughout the whole thing

to love by emziewrites

other pairs: lunyx, some cheeky gladnis

37,020 words Rated E for EYYYYYYYY

this one’s an age difference royalty au, where king noct finds the one thing he’s missing and prompto is much more than just the hoe he thinks he’s hired as. literally DIS FIC IS 2 HOT 4 U and most of their promptis fics are top quality too check their works out too

like & subscribe by just_peachy

36,590 words | Rated M for MIGOS

I read this one quite recently and I very much enjoyed this youtuber au but with a twist bcos prom became a youtuber thanks to his princely pal, who has been giving him lovey dovey eyes in each upload that sunshine boy is completely oblivious to it, but viewers needn’t not be eagle eyed to see noct’s infatuation

marry your best friend, but like literally by brosura

8,300 words | Rated T for TERRIFIC

other pairs: cheeky gladnis

exactly what it says on the fucking tin and it DELIVERS (I need a new phrase). all feel good times about MARRIED BOYS AND HOW THEIR LIVES ARE BEAUTIFUL TOGETHER. this GOOD TIME OF AN AU is one of some that brosura wrote, but all in all, the mother of feel good fics and I'm gonna rec another, just watch me

‘the Good Time Train™’ series by brosura

25,090 words | Rated T for y’all TOTALLY saw me rec another brosura work

other pairs: hints of lunoct

features stories such as: ‘friends with benefits’ au and an extra piece. Now, friends with benefits IS another good time train bUT IT’S DIFFERENT THIS TIME: the 4th chapter, after being so used to the journey of the good time train, feels like that part when the train splits to two and you’re on the wrong compartment, and the destination really isn’t going where u think it’s going bcos this end of the train takes a different detour and destination and u see this as the fic starts getting deep and u should have really paid more attention to the train conductor’s announcements so it’s completely ur fault that u didn’t BUT there IS a complimentary fic about blanket forts if that’s any consolation AND this is a good read

king of catfishing by trashmccree

10,567 words | Rated I’ll guess about a T

Other pairs: minor cindy/aranea

this tinder/catfish AU got all up on my FEELS and the fishing puns! I love a good pun, especially if it hurts other people.

golden catfish, king catfish by unsungillumination

9541 words | Rated T

hOLY SHIT ANOTHER CATFISH AU! BLESSED BE THE STARS FOR THIS BOUNTIFUL HARVEST. I can never have enough of aus. so the boys find each other via online gaming and silly prompto put himself as a girl on his online profile! and noctis is asking to meet with him?! What will prompto do??? No I’m serious, what did he do, I forgot, so NOW I have to reread this

FFXV Promptis SFW Week by treya_barton

23,871 words | Rated if I recall correctly there may have been some implied stuff so I’ll put M to be safe

This smorgasbord has 8 chapters, approaching each prompt given from, you guessed it, Promptis Fanweek 2k18; each story I believe (IIRC AGAIN) are standalones, but all in all a very good read, I truly enjoy reading treya_barton’s works

A Thing with Feathers by farseersfool

22,713 words | Rated T

I. LOVE. THIS. FUCKING. FIC. it’s a domestic AU where prompto and noct live together, and they’re adults, like obvs there’s still a bit of drama here but not as overly dramatic as it would be if they were younger, ANYWAY prompto adopts a cockatoo called HER RADIANCE QUEEN SQUISHUMS, THE FIRST OF HER NAME and I LOVE HER. There’s also a lot of emotional constipation from both sides but with a large, very clever bird involved and eavesdropping—and oh, have I mentioned that I love Her Radiance?

Guide to Fake Dating: Best Friend Edition by cup_of_comfort

22,607 words | Rated T

WHO LOVES FAKE/PRETEND RELATIONSHIP AU? /I/ FUCKING LOVE FAKE/PRETEND RELATIONSHIP AU. This fic is literally, prom and noct being part of the cosmic joke and not getting the punchline.

Ghost of the Sun by Phosphorite

22,371 words | Rated M

INSOMNIA BOYS ON TOUR M.E. 7XX doesn’t go as well as they hoped as noct slowly realises that his migraines are trying to tell him something. in this canon divergent like au, noct and everyone he loves finally gets the happiness they deserve.......kinda. this fic was an absolute trip, I mean I didn’t think it would take me where I thought it would, but where I ended up was still plenty good, despite the destination being flooded. by my own tears.

Prince Noctis' Hot New Date? Read More on Page 7! by SharkbaitSekki

3719 words | Rated T to be safe

Prom ends up in the hospital and ignis is ‘mom’ on his phone au. I live for fics where ignis is ‘mom’ on the chocobro’s phones.

sunshine blues by dirtmemer

9124 words | Rated G for GOD IGNIS LET THE BOYS BE HAPPY

In a surprising twist of canon, ignis, for once, makes a super horrible, very bad decision and is not the voice of reason in this story. What happened here DID shock me, this is borderline whump so fair warning to those with prompto biases

perhaps you noticed something strange yesterday by ObscureReference

1681 words | Rated T

This isn’t really like bait promptis but it’s a good fic that makes me think a bit. Those kinds that leaves u going like ‘huh’ and u have to take a pause before you continue on with your day

birth of a wish by whimsofffate

15,729 words | Rated T

A groundhog day AU that will make you want to scream at the skies warning the astrals to catch your hands bcos ur gonna fight them, kick them, you’ll punch a cloud u don’t give a fuck! So they reluctantly listened and gave u that happy ending…. for now

feathers and fleece by ienablu

12,774 words | Rated T for Texting

King Regis starts texting Prompto bcos Noct doesn’t. The man is just concerned for his only son, pls noct ur angsty teenager phase is showing. you also slowly find out that King Regis is like any other dad…  meaning he is a massive troll.

Sunflowers by moonside

18,955 words | Rated E

PROFESSOR/STUDENT AU IS A FUCKING JAAAAAAAAM. In here, we have sexy economics professor Noctis, and uni student prompto who have mutual hots for each other but it’s not all sexy fun times ladies and gentlepeople, for I bear warnings of a tragedy occurring in this fic, but aside from that, it’s a very good read, great plot and again, DIS FIC IS 2 HOT 4 U.

Life Imitates by Riona

3293 words | Rated T for TOTALLY UNCALLED FOR, GLADIO! but u gotta admit, it’s effective

Everyone gives Noctis and Prompto the shovel talk, which would have been very useful if they were actually together. This fic is an absolute classic.

convince lucis that you're dating (and get an existential crisis while you're at it), a guide by prompto by crosspolination

13,841 words | Rated G

THE RUMOUR COME OUT: does noctis lucis caelum is gay? This great fake/pretend relationship au (with proms family consisting of dad cor and big sis aranea) this fic will have you wanting to join in on teasing prom about the situation he’s in, thanks to a prince who has yet to learn how to think before he speaks

The Pursuit of Happiness by mahbecks

15,568 words | Rated E for ahh… it’s Explicit

I forgot this fic was explicit lmao but there’s a quote at the end of chapter two that absolutely grips me by the heart, it’s those kinds of quotes that got u thinking that it could be written in like a profound book or said in a deep film but no, surprise bitch it’s in this incredible soulmate au fic.

Horizon Linked by cup_of_comfort

18,470 words | Rated E for EVERY CHAPTER (ish) IS LOTS OF SMUT MY GOD

a/b/o fics may not be for everyone, but I liked this, it’s also angsty but what’s different about this is that it definitely has a happy ending and a great resolution, so the angst train is present but the happy ending J U S T about outweighs it. It still has tons of heavy, and dark themes so read with caution if ur not into that, but I liked the fuck out of this

Suggested Forms of Intimacy by Akumeoi

21,091 words | Rated T

A fake/pretend relationship, university au all in the name of science?! Well, more like, u get to live in a flat during the research and who would say no to that, I’d do it too mate. SO prom and noct sign up for a study that’s for like close relationships and they see how they fair in a shared flat. Mad fluff happens

In Defence of by eblisbaculum

1700-ish words | Rated I’d say about a T for the swearing

This fic isn’t on AO3 but it deserves a shoutout bcos of BAMF Prompto defending his best friend, and there really isn’t any glaringly obvious promptis in here but the end implies something but hoo boy this fic is a trip

‘Fucking Finally’ and it’s sequel ‘Word Theory’ by repmet

around 2000 words altogether | Rated T for the word ‘fuck’

Again, I found these on tumblr but it’s a short and sweet soulmate au, so this one is a massive shout if u want a quick read

Waking the Gods by Asidian

778 words | Rated G

This isn’t really promptis but I LOVE ORACLE PROM AUS AND I WISH THERE WAS MORE OF THIS AU but in this one it’s like canon divergence and prom is the oracle instead. Spectacular read (AND HAS ACCOMPANYING ART BY KACI!) THANK YOU FOR THIS BOUNTY

Black is the Colour by withoutdrawbacks

1371 words | Rated T

Noct lends prom his clothes and he totally isn’t staring too long. A lovely short and sweet fic about pining noct

somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond by bellpickle

10,188 words |Rated T

The canon did luna so fucking dirty, she didn’t deserve that fam, so here’s Luna writing letters, not only to Noctis, but to Prompto as well. Ever like the all-knowing big sister, she knows these boys ain’t slick

Tight fit by Dandy

26,982 words | Rated T

Prompto gets shoved in a locker by a bunch of jealous, little bitches and Noct wants blood when he finds out that Prom is ignoring him bcos he was in a locker for DAYS, fam that’s mad

Tolerable Toxicity Levels by saltslimes

3796 words | Rated T

Another glorious ‘Ignis is ‘mom’ on our phone’ au, where prompto is sick at work, noctis and his retinue arrive to the rescue and manager aranea hates prompto’s parents.

strange obsession (for my automatic weapon) by dustofwarfare

8530 words | Rated E

Who doesn’t like a bit of BAMF Prompto? Apparently, Noctis likes it… maybe TOO much, but that’s not a problem at all, it’s more like admitting it to Prompto that he likes that shit. This is some cute gunplay smut, no wounds or nothing like that at all, just the gun, and some sexy times bcos of it

Ten Years Is a Long Time by Tenzoh

9443 words | Rated T

other pairs: prompto/cindy

MY HEART HEAVES FOR THIS STORY. in this au borderline canon divergence fic is based on the 10-year time skip, world of ruin etc when noct returns and he confronts everything that has CHANGED. The happy twist is that noct doesn’t die, but the catch? Prom and cindy are together, and noct has to cope with his feels. The journey of reading this was close enough to make me cry; tenzoh, stay right where u are, I’m calling the police

raining knives, like, all the time by zinthos

13,132 words | Rated

other pairs: lunyx

this is literally the second fic I’ve rec’d featuring big birds with big names (FLAPPERDIGINOUS FLORATIO FONDA THE THIRD aka FLAPPY BIRD) hence why I named my chocobo in FFXV (the first playthrough) Flappy Bird as tribute to this amazing fic. But u have big sis luna in here and I love that so much, but u also have stupid af noct with an equally stupid af prompto so what’s not to love in this fic

Watching the Rain become the Sea by Ieroses

12,604 words | Rated T

The scenery in this au, my god, ieroses paints an absolute beautiful picture of this fic using words as her brush and canvas, like I remember reading this and I picture the scenes, and for some reason it reminds me of a CSI episode or smth like that, which makes sense bcos it’s like a crime au but the angst is evened out by a good ending

Epiphany by moonside

10,552 words | Rated E

Don’t 👏 stop 👏 me 👏 recommending 👏 moonside 👏 for 👏 smut 👏 bcos 👏 I 👏 won’t 👏 stop 👏 Another terrific age difference au and it DELIVERS. AGAIN. Moonside u done it again u crazy son of a gun. This one is literally pure smut, as it’s a one-night stand au with the promise of more in the end? Not like a sequel (I CAN DREAM THOUGH) but u can see inklings of noct liking prom more than just a one-time ting

To be Happy, To be Loved by thatoldeblackmagic

10,079 words | Rated T

Regis wearing the typical Jimmy Buffet ‘dad-on-holiday’ ensemble? outstanding. noctis being made fun of as a discount Sasuke Uchiha? ground-breaking. matchmaker regis? oh yeah, I’m game. also great shout out to that meme where cups were stacked on ppl who are asleep, I swear someone redrew that but with noct instead, pls @ me on that if it is out there

The Trouble with Rumours by candiedillusions

9630 words | Rated T

I JUST. CAN’T HOLD ALL THESE FAKE/PRETEND RELATIONSHIP AUS. In this instalment, Prompto and Noctis become BFs instead of BFFs thanks to a typo on social media.

noctis gets a toy stuck up his ass and calls prompto for help by demnocts

1500-ish words I guess | Rated E

I couldn’t breathe typing up the ‘title’ of this piece bcos it’s literally, what it fucking says on the tin and I can’t stop crying. what else do u want me to say about this? It’s hot af, full stop. this smut is no plot set-up, all punchline, get-on-your-fucking-knees, proper full-on dirty

Where the Blue of the Sea Meets the Sky by canary

16,265 words | Rated M for MEAT BEATING

don’t let the smut fool u into thinkin this got a happy ending nah fam I got bittersweet at bEST (but that good smut is there, teetering between the M to E rating) this fic got all up on my feels in the last bit; that the friendly banter between prom and noct (top-notch characterisation), is all smoke and show behind the impending doom that is altissia. And don’t get me started how the scenery in this fic gives you that full immersion u need to feel like ur in Caem

The Experience by MakikoIgami

7735 words | Rated E

aND BOY WAS THIS FIC AN EXPERIENCE. Basically, the boys think of all the loopholes they can use to reach maximum satisfaction AND the experience is an experience bcos u get all this good, filthy smut and in the end the feels train hits you out of nowhere so u don’t know what to do with urself

Letters for Nobody by Ashino

13,939 words | Rated I’ll gauge it about M

other pairs: gladnis

wherein umbra becomes postman pat for the crownsguard and their late king. This fic, although set in the tragedy that is the canon end, has a lot of feel good letters in there that makes u wanna get out ur best stationery and write one urself.

Nothing to Lose by AJDiamond

4986 words | Rated T

HHHIIII I like age difference promptis so here’s a classic coffee shop au, with gladio being a broken record in terms of his love advice

here is the root of the root (and the bud of the bud) by stardusting

11025 words | Rated T

U kno ur fandom made it when it’s got a hanahaki au, so ur sorted for that angst, plus their other works are also very cute!

designation by yeaka

1327 words | Rated E

this a/b/o fic never fails to get me hot under the collar no matter how many times i read it #mkinyk #dont@me but DO check out the promptis yeaka writes fam fucking W O W read them

galleria by omegas

2180 words | Rated G for GOOD SHIT

in the famous words of utada hikaru: simple and clean is the way that this fic makes me feel tonight. in this au, prom opens a photo gallery, noct is smooth af and the art industry in insomnia is just like the one in real life: difficult

silver linings by countingpaperstars

7625 words | Rated E

I bet if they were an indie band, they’d be called prompto and the niffs but I digress. IN THIS BAND AU we get massive fanboy prince noctis and iggy the square doing his typical: no u cant do blah bcos u r the prince and responsibility and reputation etc; can never get enough of these, plus smut in the end 👌🏼 absolute cherry on top of this sundae

‘holidays with promptis’ series by fmpsimon

10,389 words | Rated M

Get urself in the spirit of Christmas by reading these beauties; plus their other work s are also worth the read

ANGST AHOY:

‘the body’ series by ipacialiera

79,199 words | Rated E for MASSIVELY EXPLICIT

other pairs: highspecs, lunoct, ravus/gentiana, promptio, prompto/iris, promdyn, promptHOE, verstael/iedolas, soz if I missed some but go read their tags

lemme say this first and foremost: I tend to avoid angst and heavy, dark themed stories like the plague, but bcos I’m an absolute little shit I obviously read the first chapter of this and I was instantly hooked; I don’t recommend this to anyone who wants to have a good time bcos as much as this story was engaging, my soul cries for the boys in this film noire/detective/crime au so read if you like the sound of it. I give massive, massive props to the writer bcos this 2-part series was a rollercoaster, and at least you get some closure in this fic, but that’s like trying to douse a kitchen fire with a cup of water; however, it’s literally better than no closure. I implore those who consider this fic to look at each tag the author puts down and if you really, really can’t read something like them, don’t bloody read it, like I can’t say I enjoy reading these kinds of stories bcos I don’t but I just wanna give credit where it’s due because this is incredibly written

a long december by promptoschocohoe

32,934 words | Rated M for My God, I still haven’t stopped crying bcos of this one

other pairs: gladnis

so this and ‘the body’ will probably be the only angst heavy fics I will rec in this whole list unless I get back on my bullshit again and this one absolutely hurt me, incredibly bittersweet with 17% sweet and 83% bitter from the heavy themes you will face on here, and the reason why this fic hits me more is because it feels very ‘real world, real life’ believable like I can imagine this being something someone will actually go through. again, I rec this one to give credit where it’s due bcos, man, I’m still reeling from this. I couldn’t put it down once I started reading it. read their story’s tags and if u don’t like don’t read and the song choices are just. a good choice. can someone pls make a spotify playlist of it and @ me on that so I can follow it and cry my heart out again? thanks x

[loversandantiheroes]

Like Blood Running Warm - Part 1

Author’s Note: Happy Spooktober.  A couple weeks ago I mentioned how this song made me want to write a Vamp!Clara AU.  This is the result of that.  Part 1 of probably 2 or 3 if they remain this sort of length.  Big thanks to @longjackets, @nikkidee, @kingandcrook, and @infiniteregress17 for the beta help.

Summary: A snowstorm strands a group of bus passengers at a near-derelict station overnight near the Colorado border.   One of them just can't seem to get warm.

Rating: T (currently, AO3 link is pre-tagged for the later stuff)

Warnings: Angst by the bucket, Terminal Illness, Simm!Master being...Simm!Master and thus a walking dumpster fire, Implied Past Drug Use, Implied Harassment.

Word Count: 5799

AO3 Link: here

Did you call for the night porter? You smell the blood running warm I stay close to this frozen border, so close I can hit it with a stone Now something crawls right up my spine That I always got to follow Turn out the lights Don't see me drawn and hollow Just blood running warm

      - Mark Lanegan, "When Your Number Isn't Up"

- 11:07pm

John Smith, the night porter, sat in the break room of the bus terminal. He should, by all rights, be keeping post behind the counter in the booth, even at this late of an hour, and he knew that. Pointless, though, wasn’t it? An old portable telly spouted crackling spurts of weather reports at him. Worst snow in a decade, record lows, blah blah. He could’ve guessed that himself looking at the drifts forming outside the sliding doors, which he would have to keep shovelled out unless he wanted to end up buried in here. Buried alive with shitty instant coffee, a vending machine that half-worked, and a telly he couldn’t even get a decent signal on. His employers, stingy bastards that they were, were too cheap to provide anything new or at least decent on the premises. In the lounge, where most stations would have the new plasma or LED or god-knows-what-the-fuck-ever craning down from the ceiling or mounted on the walls, there were instead tiny coin-op televisions. Bloody ancient things with built-in radio dials bolted to the arms of the benches and chairs, popping and crackling to life at the generous price of 30 minutes for a quarter.

John had no bloody idea why the hell the relics were still installed. Honestly, he didn’t know such things even existed until he took this post, but the real shocker was that somehow they still worked. By all rights, they shouldn’t be able to pick up a signal anymore, save for the radio dial, not after the big push from analog to digital broadcasting. Converter box wired up to some kind of main switch maybe, that was the best he could figure. Mystery of the fucking universe, or might as well be; tech was not his area. But it made him feel something. Kinship maybe, he thought, cradling the battered porcelain mug of coffee and trying to work some warmth into the joints of his fingers. Old and busted, but still working. Last legs, maybe, but some life still crackling inside.

He’d moved to the States for the sake of his health, that was the joke of it. Christ on a bike, that was the fucking joke. The belching exhaust of a passing lorry in Glasgow last spring had left him doubled over and hacking against a lamp post. Not that a cough was that unusual, he’d been a smoker from the age of fourteen. He was used to the hack-and-rattle first thing in the morning, or when the seasons changed from Damp and Warm to Damp and Cold (Scotland only had the two seasons, really). But this time had been different. Not quite worse, but deeper, like the first signal of the flu.

He’d gone home to his flat that day, made tea, and emptied his tobacco tin into the garbage. Good fucking riddance. Something welled up in him then. A change of scenery would be good. He was nearly fifty-six years old, and he’d never even left the country. Wanderlust, he’d called it at the time. Not entirely untrue, but a little too grand. All he’d wanted in that second was to run away. It wasn’t as if he had any real ties to Glasgow anymore. No friends to speak of, all those were gone. Family either dead or distant. He spun his wedding ring unconsciously. No children. That was almost a relief, considering.

Once he decided to go, he’d sold everything but his clothes and his guitar. Sentiment was only the half of that. He’d never admit it, but he’d simply found the idea of travelling halfway across the world with nothing but the guitar too foolishly romantic to give up. Then on the emptied floor of his flat he’d laid out a massive map of the continental US, closed his eyes, and flipped a coin at it.

He’d spent six good months in Colorado, taking odd jobs and occasionally even sitting in on open mic nights at a local bar, plucking out something of The Velvet Underground or Bowie, and chalking up the slow but steady weight loss as stress and an aversion to American food. Then the cough had come back.

Small cell lung cancer. The fast moving shit. The sort that dug its nails in and decided it lived in you now. Gentrification of the lungs. Radiation or chemo might have bought him some time, but that was the best it could offer. But the pricetag on a few more months was entirely too steep. One look in the clinic window at the thinning husks hooked up to IV drips with pallid eyes and piebald pates, and he’d been out like a shot. On his way to work that night he’d bought a pack of cigarettes. If he was gonna die, he’d at least do it with a full head of hair.

John leaned over the break room table, rubbing at his temples. Too busy feeling sorry for himself to think fucking properly, he inhaled just a bit too sharply. The heating in the bus station was rubbish, the glass windows and sliding doors too thin to keep the cold out, and the electric heater he’d dragged in himself, in a feeble attempt to keep his toes from freezing during the long winter, barely managed to take the chill out of the break room.

Cold air needled into his lungs, and he choked, sputtering and coughing so hard it made his bones ache. Hot coffee sloshed over his hands, and he swore, or at least tried. He needed air to curse, and his lungs weren’t having any of that nonsense. He pounded on the table, sloshing more coffee and overturning a plastic tumbler full of spoons. As the fit subsided, John fumbled in his pockets for his handkerchief and spat, folding it away and trying to pretend he hadn’t seen it come away from this lips bloody.

John sat with his head between his knees until he could breathe evenly again, the sound of the telly all but drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. At last, he stood, sopped up the mess of coffee, and stumbled out to check the departures and arrivals. Departures from Shotton had been cancelled even before John had limped to work in his jeep. The last two drivers had waved him off as he pulled in, climbing into their own cars to get the hell out of Dodge and back home before the snow settled in with any real intent. Now the roads were closing, and that meant he might be stuck here alone, hacking his lungs up over bad coffee and worse telly until the snow plows went out.

“Fuck,” he muttered. The arrivals list, which had been a string of delays when he’d come in, was now almost completely cancelled. All but one. 11:20 from Cheyenne. Delayed, but still inbound. Wonderful. Snowed in overnight with a busload of pissy tourists on their way to Denver. Wouldn’t that just be a time. “Of-fucking-course. You couldn’t even give me one miserable night off, could you?” he growled at the ceiling.

He kept swearing as he pulled his winter gear on. He’d read once that swearing helped with pain relief; maybe the blue streak would keep him warm. He struggled this balaclava over his head, wondering if it wasn’t time for a haircut. He was a little too proud to still have a full head of hair, grey or no, and had let it go a little wild after the move. Insulation, he told himself. Too fucking cold to trim the hair back, be liable to freeze to death before the cancer gets a chance to finish the fucking job.

Laughing, John wound his scarf around his head.

- 11:34pm

John had most of the entry cleared and shook down with rock salt and sand, when he saw headlights. The bus lurched up through the drive, crunching and shuddering its way up through the snow to the sheltered entrance.

John leaned on his shovel and flapped a thickly-gloved hand as the bus ground to a stop in front of him. The door hissed open, blowing a gorgeously welcome gust of heated air at him. The driver was a new guy, a round-faced man with close cropped hair and a frankly terrible goatee. “Fuck me ragged,” the driver called down, grinning, “I’m gonna get held up by the Michelin Man.”

John made a gun out of his right hand and popped his thumb. Ka-chow. “You’ll want to get inside,” he shouted through too many layers of damp wool.

The driver frowned, motioning at his ear. “Can’t hear you, pal.”

He waved again, palm in, fingers curling. Come the fuck in.

- 11:40pm

There weren’t many passengers, thank God. John counted heads as they shambled in, jamming his gloves into his pockets and fiddling with his scarf which had gone stiff with frost. Seventeen or eighteen, including the driver, who’d pulled off to try and park the bus proper while he still stood a chance to get it moving. An old couple cooed and laughed over the coin-op televisions. A young black woman in a pea-colored coat almost as heavily padded as his own gave him a nervous smile as he struggled out of his balaclava. She asked hopefully about coffee with a London accent that made him do a double take.

“Or tea or hot chocolate?” she went on in the sort of bright tone only the incredibly anxious and incredibly exhausted can achieve. “Anything hot, honestly, I’m not fussy.”

John grunted, both in effort and assent. He’d worked up a fair sweat out there, and the wool was stuck fastidiously to his head. He bent, trying to pull it up from the back, and heard a second voice with an unmistakable Blackpool twinge.

“Easy, mate, you’ll pull your whole head off by mistake.”

Cold fingers brushed at the nape of his neck, curling into the wool, helping him pull. And then he was free, spitting lint and rifling a hand through the haphazard sprawl of his hair.

London giggled behind her hand. Beside her now was a second, significantly smaller woman who was holding his snow-crusted balaclava out to him. For a second, all he saw were her eyes, wide and brown and faintly crinkled at the corners as she smiled up at him. She was lovely, far too lovely, and he was far too old, and oh Jesus Christ he was staring.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, trying to flatten the beast his hair had become. “Uhm, the coffee machine’s on the fritz,” he said, gesturing at the line of vending machines and utterly missing the excited upshoot both women’s eyebrows did when they heard his accent. With a touch of annoyance, he noticed the out of order sign had dropped once again and was slowly soaking into a puddle of slush. “I’ve got a kettle in the break room, but the coffee’s instant. But there’s quite a lot of it, at least, so.” He shrugged, grinning awkwardly and trying not to look at the short one with the big eyes.

“That’d be amazing, I’m frozen,” London said, bouncing on her toes.

“Right, well, have a seat, I’ll go and get that on.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Blackpool said.

London scoffed, rolling her eyes. “No accounting for taste,” she muttered.

Blackpool stuck out her tongue.

John glanced at her sidelong as he opened the door to the break room. She noted his hesitation and gave him a quizzical look. “You on your own tonight?”

John frowned. “Yeah, why?”

“Then I will definitely give you a hand. You look fit to keel over.”

The frown deepened into a scowl.

She laughed. “Oh, go on, your eyebrows look like they could shoot laser beams when you scrunch up like that.”

He pushed through the door after her, shrugging his parka off and pretending that he wasn’t trying to hide a smile, unsure why he should be hiding it other than that recurring little prickle that said she’s too pretty and you’re too old and have you forgotten you’re dying?

“I like the accent. Where in Scotland?” she asked, already filling the kettle as he stripped off his overalls.

“Glasgow.” He spared her a glance over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re from Blackpool?”

“Ooh, jackpot, well done.”

“Not the sort of accent I expected to hear coming in with the snow in the arse-end of America. I had friends there. The other girl, London, is she with you?”

“No, not really. Met her at the station, actually, we’ve just been headed the same way. Fell in together a bit. It was just nice, y’know. Familiar sort of accent. America’s so bloody big, makes you feel a little less alone.” Her gaze shifted outward and for a moment she was gone, the over the hills and far away sort of gone, hands still trying to seat the kettle without the help of her eyes. On the third try, she finally managed to set the it down on the base properly and click it on.

“Oh. I know that look,” he muttered, sitting down to try and struggle his overalls past his boots. “Someone’s homesick.”

“Something like that.”

He opened his mouth, but the well-meaning platitude he’d meant to give was lost in a deep, lung-rattling cough. He bent double, hugging his knees, eyes squeezed shut, and told himself over and over again it will pass, it will pass, it will pass. Spots burst and swam behind his eyelids as his body protested the idea. The muscles in his body froze up, lungs refusing any command except get out get out get out. All at once the darkness seemed to deepen, wrapping around him, swallowing him up. There was a bizarre sensation of detachment. Like he was falling into himself, as if his body was some hollow thing he was floating around inside like a sensory deprivation tank.

An arm curled around his shoulders, holding his body up, a cold hand rubbing circles on his back. Blackpool’s voice came floating through the black from miles off like sweet woodsmoke.

“Hey, c’mon breathe, breathe, you’re alright.”

At last, his muscles unlocked, and he sucked in a great whooping gulp of air and coughed again, half-retching as Blackpool shoved a crumpled wad of tissues into his hands. John sat shaking as his breathing leveled, swimming back up into the peaked fluorescent light. The coughing was old, but the blackout, that was new. New and decidedly not good. Blackpool’s hand still rubbed at his back. She was still there. He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and as he blinked the tears out of his eyes he saw a smear of red across his knuckles. Fuck.

Blackpool looked down at the blood on his hand, eyes wide with concern and something else he couldn’t quite place. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Her pupils were dangerously wide, irises a thin sliver of copper that seemed to pulse and flash. A fresh shudder rippled up his spine.  Lack of oxygen, he told himself.  Surely.

“You need a doctor,” she whispered, searching her coat pockets and finally producing a phone in a chipped blue case.

He grasped her hand, shaking his head. “I don’t.”

“The hell you don’t,” she hissed. “You’re ill.”

“I know,” he said, and that stopped her. He sighed. “Just, please, trust me. An ambulance couldn’t make it through this mess anyway. No point. I’ll be fine in a minute, I just need to catch my breath.”

She stared him down, mouth set and grim. For a long, horrible moment he felt close to talking. To actually saying it. He hadn’t actually told anyone about the diagnosis. There was nobody to tell, and somehow that was the worst of it. He was going to die here alone in a shithole of a town thousands of miles from home, and nobody would know. Loneliness hit him in a crushing wave. He saw himself reflected in the dark of her eyes, drawn and pale and hopelessly lost.

And then she sighed, and his shoulders dropped, and the moment passed.

“What’s your name, Glasgow?” she asked finally.

“John. But mostly people call me the Doctor.” She gave him a funny look and he shrugged. “Old nickname. Long story.”

“No doctor for the Doctor, though?”

He shook his head, resolute.

“Well, then fuck that,” she said flatly. “Glasgow it is.”

He rasped a laugh that set him dangerously close to coughing again. “Suppose I’m supposed to just call you Blackpool, then?”

“It’s only fair.” She smiled tentatively. “But it’s Clara, for the record.”

- 12:03am

Blackpool - Clara - handed out hot water in little styrofoam cups. John followed behind with sachets of coffee and tea bags and tiny packets of sugar. London, who Blackpool said was named Bill, squealed happily when he produced a pyramid-shaped teabag out of his pocket.

“Oh that is gorgeous, you’re a lifesaver, mate.”

Blackpool had moved onto the driver, whose name tag was emblazoned with “MASTERS” in off-kilter lettering. His cheshire grin slipped sideways into a leer as she handed him the cup, his fingers lingering on hers a little too long.

“Cheers, love,” he said with an overblown wink and an equally overblown mockery of an English accent.

Blackpool’s face went stony, and she jerked back, moving on quickly to the elderly couple. The grin on Masters’ face spread even broader.

Bill fidgeted, her own smile fading fast. Her eyes flitted around like nervous hummingbirds, lighting on Blackpool, him, the ceiling, the floor. Anywhere but the driver. John clenched his jaw, hands making a decision for him before his brain stood a chance to intervene, accidentally fumbling the handful of coffee and sugar and knocking the cup of still-steaming water out of Masters’ hands and into his lap. The room was entirely too cold (and his kettle frankly a bit too crap) for the piddly amount of liquid to be hot enough to actually hurt him, but the man yowled like it was boiling.

“Ach, so sorry mate,” John crowed, playing up the Glasgow in his voice to the most ridiculous degree he could that still stopped short of Rab C. Nesbitt territory. “The cauld goes fae my joints, sorry, like, I’ll get ye some towels an’ a fresh cuppa, dinnae worry about it.”

He trotted back to the office, more than a little delighted at the sour look on the driver’s face. How’d that saying go? Like a rottweiler licking piss off a dandelion. That was the one. Beautiful.

- 12:15am

John ran out an extension cable and a power strip for the ones needing a charge for their phones, which unsurprisingly was all of them. Reception was shit, and the storm was only half of it. No wifi, either. He made apologies, gesturing at the desperately out of date equipment. “Give them another ten years, and they might actually catch onto the indoor plumbing fad.”

Blackpool gave him a wink and a thumbs up over the top of her phone. London rolled her eyes and lamented the absence of Netflix, rather loudly at that. Blackpool shook her head and set to poking half-heartedly at Candy Crush.

London wandered over, leaning back against the desk where John sat. She had apparently memorized the names of the other passengers and ticked them off to John as she sipped at her tea. She pointed out the elderly couple. “Melvin and Tilly. Their granddaughter just had her first baby, they’re going down to visit. Spiky hair over there is named Dan or Dave or maybe Doug, he talks a bit too fast for me to really catch it. The cougar with the long blonde hair is Susan; loves badminton, very straight though, shame. Oh, that over there, that’s Dee. Or D, like the letter, not sure which.”

“And of course, you’ve met Clara,” she gestured at Blackpool, who was still flicking through her phone. “Late twenties, maybe early thirties at a push. Used to be an English teacher back home, I think she said. Didn’t like talking about home though. Breakup or something, I dunno. There’s a sore spot there, I didn’t want to poke. I did learn, however, that she likes Jane Austen, souffles, and apparently, older men.” London tilted her head at him pointedly, amused by the way John’s gaunt cheeks colored as he stared fastidiously at his shoelaces. She tutted. “Oh you poor bugger. Five minutes in and you’ve already got it bad. Don’t worry, mate, same here.”

“I really d-”

“Oh like hell. You absolutely have, of course you have. I’m not stupid. And I mean it’s not like I can blame you. Look at ‘er.” She lifted her hands again at the other woman as if her existence was the only proof needed. In fairness, it probably was.

John nodded solemnly. “Alright. So what next, fisticuffs? Rifles at dawn? You can get in an early dig at my honor if you want, I’ll let you go first.”

She laughed. “Naw mate, she is way out of my league. Out of your league too, now that I think about it.” London put a playful elbow in his ribs. “She still likes you though. I can tell. Haven’t seen her smile at a single bloke until she saw you.”

He cleared his throat. “And uh, what about the driver? Masters. What’s the deal there?”

London’s smile evaporated. “He’s a prick,” she said flatly.

- 12:40am

“Alright, the suspense is killing me,” Blackpool said at last. She’d taken to pacing around the lounge with her phone in her hands and had veered out of her path to the front desk suddenly.

“I’m sorry?” he said, blinking.

“You said people called you the Doctor. Why?”

John waved a dismissive hand. “It’s really not that interesting, honestly.”

“C’mon.”

“Why do you want to know?”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “Because I am dying of boredom. And because, quite frankly, I like listening to you talk.” John fumbled his pen. Blackpool didn’t seem to notice. She tilted her head. “How’s your cough, by the way? I suppose I shouldn’t bother you. Talking might actually be a bad idea….oh god, I am rambling aren’t I?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly.

“Right. Well. I’ll just, uhm.” She motioned away.

“I had something of a reputation when I was younger,” he said suddenly, not really wanting to tell but wanting her to leave even less. “Drugs. College,” he shrugged. “Nothing terribly shocking, but also not very legal. Used to get folk turning up at all hours on my doorstep, worn out or strung out or heartbroken. I’d find the right remedy in my bag of tricks to calm them down, get them talking.”

“A stoner psychologist?”

“Basically.” He leaned back and spread his hands. “The Doctor is in.”

- 1:17am

Boredom took over rather quickly. D-or-Dee, a youth with a partially shaved head and a pocket full of quarters went around feeding coins into the slots of the tiny mounted TVs, looking for one that still worked. For awhile, several of them crowded around to catch the weather reports - snow, lots of; we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming - but it quickly became apparent that the only thing on this late was going to be infomercials and horrible sitcom reruns. The tiny knot of people dispersed, and the youth settled for twiddling the radio dials, trying to find a signal in the squelch and static.

“How do you manage alone here at night?” Blackpool said, leaning over the front desk and swirling the last dregs of her instant coffee as he scratched at a newspaper with a pen. “This place is practically prehistoric. I keep waiting for a dinosaur to jump out of the ladies’ and come charging out to eat us.”

“Alas, it’s never been quite that interesting. But I manage, mostly.” John wiggled his pen at the desktop, heavily populated with familiar nightshift detritus: thin paperbacks (Vonnegut and Iain M. Banks stuff mostly), crosswords, at least three newspapers, and an mp3 player half-hidden under a pack of L&M cigarettes. A stack of monitors to his right showed crackly footage from security cameras in the station; two from the lounge, one in the hall by the lavs, and two outside at the front and back entrances. He gave them a cursory glance and saw nothing amiss. Then looked again, brows knitting together. That wasn’t entirely true. Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He checked the doors again and did a head count, lost count, tried again, distracted by the way Masters was leaning over three chairs to talk to London, who was resolutely ignoring him. John felt the first twinge of a headache at his temples. What the hell was he missing?

And then Blackpool’s arm darted in front of him and grabbed the mp3 player and the cigarettes in one quick swoop that left him blinking.

“Oi, Quick Draw McGraw, give over!”

Blackpool shook the cigarette pack and gave him a disapproving glare. “Seriously?”

He scowled. She seemed to bring that out in him. “I’m old enough, miss, honest. I’ve got ID, I can prove it, even.”

“These can’t be doing your lungs any favors.”

“When did you turn into my mother?”

“Well, if you’re going to be like that I guess I’ll just have to take your toys away,” she said coolly, slipping them into her pocket.

John scoffed. “You really want to be stuck in here with a crotchety old bugger going off nicotine? Trust me, it won’t be pretty.”

“You ought to take better care of yourself, y’know.” The playfulness hadn’t gone, not entirely, but there was a genuine edge of concern.

John felt heat creep up his face and grumbled, fiddling with his hair. That inexplicable urge to tell her hit him again. Christ, he was pathetic. Was this all it took? A pretty face and a kind word, and he was ready to fall on his knees and confess. It was a sin anyway, wasn’t it? Suicide by inaction. Jesus. Get ahold of yourself for fuck’s sake.

Blackpool held up the mp3 player. “Got anything good in here?”

“Depends on your definition of good.”

Music warbled faintly from the earbuds as she shuffled through his playlist. “Bowie. Lots of Bowie.  Miles Davis.  Screaming Trees. And...Peter Andre?” She gave him a look that was just a hair’s breadth away from mocking.

“It got stuck in my head, ok? It was either download it or put a plastic spork in my ear.”

She laughed, properly laughed, round face all crinkled up, rocking on her elbows. Any indignance he might’ve felt fled immediately. He watched her laugh and felt a little of the malaise drain from his limbs.

Blackpool shook her head at him, eyes sparkling. “Well, that’s good to see.”

“What?”

“You. Smilin’.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He hadn’t even realized.

She patted his hand. A fleeting touch, but enough to make his heart catch almost painfully. “It looks good on you,” she said.

“Oh, flattering an old man,” he said. “If you’re here for my many many riches, as clearly evidenced by my glamorous, high-paying position, I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“Shut up,” she smacked his shoulder lightly.

“I just thought you should be aware!” he carried on, blustering his way through the blush that wanted to creep up his cheeks again.

A sudden burst of static made the both of them jump. D-or-Dee cheered happily, having finally found a radio signal that wasn’t just weather reports or bad country music. Violin strings cut through the crackle and pop in a lilting swell. A guitar crawled in in response, sweet and slow as molasses. John recognized it, an old Fleetwood Mac tune from the Peter Green days.

Melvin, the old guy, was on his feet suddenly, tugging at his wife’s arm. Tilly cackled, called him a sentimental old goat. And then she went to him, smiling sweetly, hands clasped together, one arm on his shoulder. They revolved slowly, beaming at one another.

A few others joined them, Dave/Dan/Doug, the youngish fellow with spiky hair, offered his hand to Susan, a woman about John’s age who laughed musically and joked about breaking her hip, but went anyway. D-or-Dee snatched up London even as Masters was moving closer and twirled her away while the driver was left sneering. A cold little prickle crawled up the back of John’s neck as he locked eyes with the driver. He was going to be trouble. Before sun up, John was certain, he would be trouble.

Blackpool’s hand was on his again, her eyes locked mistily on the elderly couple. “Dance with me?” she asked suddenly.

He sputtered, half-laughing, an immediate refusal on his lips, but then she turned her head and he saw the tears in her eyes. He knew that look. It wasn’t wistfulness but hurt, like an old wound had suddenly reopened. John felt his heart perched on the edge of something he didn’t want to name, teetering, ready to fall. He could let it, knowing at once he’d give anything to take away whatever pain had filled her, and chastised himself for the foolishness.

As if he could. The plows would go out in the morning and she would be on another bus and that would be it. And anyway, he was old enough to be her father and not likely to see the last snows of the season melt. Nothing lasted, not ever. The kid turned the music up, and John felt it working in his chest. A little miracle, a little spark crackling away inside. Old and battered and still playing something sweet and strong enough to make him feel. Maybe that wasn’t all the music. Maybe.

Nothing lasted, but maybe it didn’t have to last to be worth it.

John squeezed her hand once and made for the door. The security monitors dragged his attention for a split second, but he kept moving. Whatever it was, it could wait another five minutes. Blackpool held her arms out as he rounded the desk. He hesitated, swallowing hard. People were watching. London looked at once hopelessly amused and somehow proud. She grinned at him and popped a double thumbs-up, giggling. The driver looked significantly less pleased. The man’s face had gone rat-like and sour, staring at them both with such utter contempt John could almost feel it on his skin, slippery and unpleasant like motor oil.

But Blackpool’s eyes were turned up to him, wide and dark and too full. You wave and you wave with your wide lovely eyes ran through his head with a kind of sick-sweet flush. He went to her. London pumped her fist discretely in triumph.

“You’re cold,” he said as she curled around his shoulder.

“I’m alright.” She took his left hand with her right. Should’ve felt odd. Probably. It didn’t. She led and he followed, trying to pretend he was more than a gangly wreck of limbs and mad silver hair.

She settled against him, fingers worrying over the ring on his hand. “I hope I’m not,” she paused, pressed her face to his jacket, tried to start again. “I dunno, overstepping or something. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to put the mack on a married man.”

His eyebrows flew up. “You’re putting the mack on me now, are you?”

“Shut up,” she said, but there was a chuckle in it.

“I’m not married anymore. It’s sentiment, I suppose. Maybe just habit by now. Just never taken it off.”

She looked up at him, searching his face as if looking for the answer to something she didn’t quite want to ask. She seemed to find it. He could guess; a ghost of that same hurt he’d seen in her face. “I’m sorry,” she said.

John’s mouth went painfully dry. “You too, eh?” he asked.

She nodded. “We weren’t married,” she said, so quiet he could just barely hear her over the music. “But he was going to propose.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Her breath hitched, and she swayed a little in his arms, head down low on his shoulder. John turned them slowly, putting his back to the room, giving her what little privacy he could. He stared out the window. The snow was coming down harder, big fat snowballs of the stuff forming new drifts in the track he had cleared. The sky outside was a dull, muddied pink, the snow drifts colored orange in the streetlights. Blackpool wept discreetly, not making a sound, but he felt tears soak through his hoodie to his t-shirt, and wondered that even those felt cold. He pressed his hand into the small of her back, thumb rubbing absently against her spine, and he tucked the top of her head under his chin. She smelled faintly of lilac soap and deep, bitter chocolate.

“Thank you,” she said as the song ended.

“What for?”

“For being kind.” She looked up at him again, and he watched the last of her tears spill down her cheeks. “That’s rarer than it ought to be.”

A commercial for Thompson’s Water Seal replaced Peter Green, and the other pairs drifted apart. John barely noticed. Her eyes skimmed down over his face, pausing long enough at his lips to make his heart beat faster. She couldn’t possibly...

A cracking from outside made his head snap up, and John watched as a heavy branch bowed over the power lines, cracking and popping. He swore, dropping his hand to his belt where his maglite hung, just as the branch gave way and fell.

In the split second before the darkness descended, John finally registered what had been wrong with the cctv feed. As light as it was outside, even at this hour, the inside of the station was brighter, and he saw himself reflected in the plate glass of the sliding doors. Six feet of wiry thin Scot. Face a little too long, a little too drawn now, but eyes as bright and cold as the night outside. His hands hovered in midair, clasping nothingness.

Of the woman in his arms, there was no sign. Blackpool had no reflection.