#like after all the shit he pulled throughout the series i didn’t think he was going to show any change but it was really nice to see tbh!

[gojo]

i just finished trimax and oh my god how am i going to function now

[theoldsports]

Mirror

Coriolanus Snow x Reader. 6.1k words.

18+ some smut, but it’s dicey. dubcon, biting, fingering, nudity, nonconsensual touch, drugs/alcohol? rehab discussion briefly, threats of violence, the shower, struggle against media, one reference to a line from scripture, possessiveness, manipulation. it’s dark. prolonged exposure to it is bad for you.

longest one yet! chronologically follows Married 1+2 in the TRUCULENT series fairly rapidly. i really learned to love this one. upon editing, this story became way more about gaslighting and headfucking someone good and hard into relying on you. special thank you to @heavqn for beta-ing and ridiculous amounts of support and ideas. a lot of our pre-editing convos made this make much more sense to me. + votes are in: next installment/current WIP will be the wedding.

CLICK FOR MORE! CAN BE READ AS SERIES OR STANDALONE

The hand against her shoulder shook her for a moment, then much faster. The shaking lasted seconds or even minutes before [Y/N] pried her eyes open. Everything in the bedroom looked too real, too clear. Coriolanus stood above her. His hand had been doing the shaking. He looked like he had just returned from a run due to his clothes and sweat-stained hair. His hair had grown back more beautifully than before. [Y/N] remembered seeing him when she saw him in the stacks of Philosophy books at the library right after he had returned from Twelve. It was jarring. She had always fancied him a pretty boy even if she loathed him throughout their childhood. He was much different upon his return.

Coriolanus pulled himself up out of the comfort of their bed almost every morning, far too early, to go for a run. [Y/N] didn’t know how she would endure a lifetime of his too chipper morning behavior once they were married. Coming down after a night on morphling was hard and still, she did it over and over again. Coriolanus knew he couldn’t stand in the way of a little fun, but he wouldn’t allow it in their home, so [Y/N] had become involved in using it socially when it was available to her.

“Great. You look like a bum.” Coriolanus said, noting the dark and sunken crescents under her eyes.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning. You look like a bum.”

“I’m not a bum.” [Y/N] replied tiredly. She rubbed her eyes.

Last night, [Y/N] had gone out dancing with some of her friends. It was not a bachelorette party in so many words, but it filled the same purpose. It was also a stretch to call the people she went out with friends in so many words, but they filled the same purpose. [Y/N] hadn’t felt that she had people other than Coriolanus for sometime now. She had gotten very drunk and very high the night before, resulting in frustration from Coriolanus when she returned home. He always waited up by the front door when she was gone so long. Coriolanus did not like it when she wasn’t home with him. She would make it up to him somehow— she always did.

“Come on, up with you.” Coriolanus commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her up to a sitting position. His voice was harsh, but his touch was soft. [Y/N] adored Coriolanus’ careful, yet guiding touches. Unless his dick was in her, he only touched her with care like she was a porcelain figurine.

“Why all the rush?” [Y/N] yawned.

“You don’t remember?” Coriolanus sighed. He was upset in that pompous way of his. He rubbed his creased forehead. “Seriously, [Y/N]. I ask so little of you and you can’t even behave well enough to remember that we have an interview in…” he checked his watch. “Three hours.” Coriolanus said. It was false that he asked so little of [Y/N]. Sometimes, he asked too much.

An hour exclusive on Lucky Flickerman’s daytime chatter joint. Shit. That woke [Y/N] up. “That’s today!” She exclaimed. That was the only caffeine she needed to wake her up. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Coryo. I didn’t think—“

“No. No Coryo. No, you didn’t think,” Coriolanus said. He needn’t elaborate. “Shower. We’ve got to beat downtown traffic.”

[Y/N] swore Coriolanus scheduled things like this at the worst possible times just to make her look worse than him.

She pushed her shaky legs off the bed. As soon as she stood, [Y/N] felt like she was going to fall. Perceptively, Coriolanus stood and placed his ever-vigilant hand on her lower back to steady her. “You’re a mess.” He said flatly. [Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus felt damp from his run. It crossed her mind that Coriolanus drank bitter coffee, did his work on time, smoked very little and went on a run daily. [Y/N] regularly got too high to see straight and cried when she didn’t get her way. Some pair they were.

“‘M not.” she protested messily. She didn’t want to admit that Coriolanus was right.

Coriolanus huffed indignantly, but did not reply otherwise. He walked her to the bathroom like marching a child to the naughty step. [Y/N] was set down on the low counter-top. “I’m concerned you’re going to slip and give yourself a black-eye,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want people to think I hurt you.” He pulled his track jacket off and dropped it on the floor and reached over to take her short magenta teddy off. She felt desperately bare in front of Coriolanus as she was striped mechanically like a child’s doll. The teddy she wore was one of her favorites, with the delicate lace on the bust. She appreciated that Coriolanus was equally as delicate as the lace when handling it. He must have remembered how much [Y/N] liked it. Coriolanus remembered everything.

[Y/N] was simply impressed she had gotten herself into pajamas after last night at all.

“You’re going to ruin yourself if you keep doing this, you know.” Coriolanus said, starting the shower water.

“So you keep telling me,” [Y/N] shivered due to her bareness against the bathroom tile. “I’m sorry.”

Coriolanus deflected with a shake of his head. He turned to her. Coriolanus was obviously thinking about speaking as the water heated up. Hot water whenever desired was Coriolanus’ number one favorite thing about rebuilding the Snow fortune. That’s why he took his showers too hot; to prove that he could. The thought gave him the confidence to speak. “Do I make you feel so ill that you have to run around and treat yourself like this? Did I do something?” The insecurity of that question made [Y/N] raise an eyebrow. Sometimes when she looked at Coriolanus and realized he was still a boy in many regards. Twenty-three wasn’t very old at all. His frontal lobe wasn’t even finished developing. His primary desire was to be enough for himself, for her, and for everyone else too. [Y/N] feared that he worried he hadn’t figured that out yet. The girl was far from figuring that out herself as well. She rarely saw vulnerability slip through the cracks in the finished marble exterior that built Coriolanus Snow. But who knew if what he said was a true feeling of his or not.

“No,” [Y/N] said. She looked down at her manicured toes. “I did this before we were, y’know… You’ve seen me at house parties since the Academy. You know it’s not you.”

“It has to stop,” Coriolanus started, dashing that fear from his mind. [Y/N] permitting a discussion without blocking him out unpowered him to share his concerns. “It worries me when you’re out late with who knows who. With so many people seeing you. It’s not just part of an act, it’s bad for you.” He said, but what he meant to say was it’s bad for me.

“I knew you had jealousy problems, Coriolanus, but being worried you can’t personally compete with your girl’s partying habits is… hilarious.” [Y/N] attempted a joke. She saw the vein in Coriolanus’ neck throb. His eyes got cold when his vulnerability, no matter how shallow, was met with rejection.

“Get in the shower.”

[Y/N] cast her eyes down, took off her panties and did what she was told.

“It’s so hot!” She all but screamed.

[Y/N] let the water scald her skin. She didn’t want to complain at his trying to help her. “You’ll deal with it,” Coriolanus said, sliding the shower door shut behind the both of them. [Y/N] hadn’t even noticed him undressing, but here they were. They had never been in the shower together before. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the circumstances were. “For the record, I don’t have a ‘jealousy problem.’” He said after a moment of allowing [Y/N] hair to get damp enough to shampoo.

“Really?” [Y/N] bit back, reaching clumsily for her shampoo bottle with slippery fingers.

“Really. Jealousy isn’t a problem when you understand what’s rightfully yours,” Coriolanus said. Normally, she blocked Coriolanus out when he spoke like that. Maybe it was physical proximity or toxic prolonged exposure to Coriolanus, but that made her blush red in the face. Ignoring it, [Y/N]’s fingers closed around her pink and brown shampoo bottle, but Coriolanus snatched it out of her fingers effortlessly. “Let me. I want to be sure it gets done,” He muttered with a passive aggressive edge. That attitude seemed like a put-on to [Y/N]. She wondered if he wanted an excuse to be close to her. She made those up sometimes to be close to him. Maybe she was just flattering herself. Coriolanus squeezed some shampoo into his palm and set the bottle down on the shower ledge. “Who were you out with anyway?”

“Um… Some of the girls. Lysistrata. Oh, Clem. Some others.” [Y/N] braced a hand against the damp wall to steady her feet on the slippery ground.

“Clemensia?” Coriolanus asked, sliding his fingers into her hair, careful as ever. It felt newly intimate in a way that Coriolanus typically avoided with her.

“Who else?”

“I see. You know she’s—“

“I know you don’t like her.” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus was silent.

“I don’t like when you go out without me. I just worry.” He finally said.

“I’m sure you do.”

It was silent between them. Coriolanus worked the shampoo into her hair easily. A man known for his rough intensity being gentle with anything was a surprise to her.

“Did you see anyone else?” He asked nonchalantly.

[Y/N] sighed. Even casual conversation turned to interrogation. She wasn’t sure if he meant it, or if it was all he knew how to do. “Do you mean… Was I photographed behaving in some unsightly way? I dunno. I probably was. I wasn’t unfaithful, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Stop.” Coriolanus said, leaving no room for further argument.

It was quiet again. “Thank you for washing my hair. That’s, uh, it’s very kind.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied, coaxing [Y/N] back under the water to rinse out the suds. His long fingers combed back through her hair over and over again. [Y/N], soapy, turned around and stared at Coriolanus’ wet face and hair. Even when appearing like a drowned animal, his imposing figure was statuesque.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry I forgot about the interview,” she whispered, barely louder than the shower water. She apologized more than he did, but he responded well to knowing someone other than him was in the wrong. “Do I really look like shit?”

Coriolanus sighed, more familiarly this time. He loved when she needed him. He would insult her all day long if it meant he got to give her more validation later on. “No,” he slipped a hand under her breast and gave it a squeeze, his thumb danced across her nipple. “No, you don’t,” His other hand wormed its way across her cheek to brush away that disgusting makeup residue from the night prior. “You just needed a little polish. Let’s finish up. Go get dressed. Coffee’s on in the kitchen.”

“You poison it?”

Coriolanus frowned exasperatedly. He reached the hand cupping her breast around to her ass and gave it a hard, wet smack. “You bitch.” He smirked.

Sins almost all forgiven.

—

Every time [Y/N] was in a car with Coriolanus, it felt like a coaching session. Hand on her thigh with, don’t say this, say that instead, let me speak first, don’t embarrass me.

No point in elaborating on the most familiar part of their normal day-to-day since it really was habit at this point. [Y/N] always ached to snap back at him after these times. One day, don’t embarrass me was going to hit so hard that she did.

When they got out of the car a few blocks from their destination, [Y/N] had dawned her bright purple sunglasses. Coriolanus hated them and had tried on multiple occasions to buy her new ones to no avail. The daylight was still too bright for her tired eyes, so they were going to be worn on the walk to Capitol News.

After half a block (and so close to a news building), they were swamped by people clicking away at them. It made the bright sun burn hotter. Coriolanus’ white blonde hair and intimidating stature was much too easy to pick out in a crowd for their sunglasses and long jackets to disguise much.

Right now, besides Games news, they were the hottest topic of discussion in the Capitol. Their engagement party had been wild, [Y/N] was typically wild, and Coriolanus was characteristically unwild. It made for good TV.

Coriolanus leaned in to whisper something. [Y/N] couldn’t hear it. All she could do was smile and tell any reporters with microphones ‘no thank you,’ or ‘you’ll have to watch Lucky’s to answer for that.’ Coriolanus merely smiled a smile that was not his smile and said ‘not now folks, we’ll be late,’ or ‘don’t worry about them, Darling.’

[Y/N] was leashed by Coriolanus’ hand on the back of her neck as he guided her through crowds. He had two dressbags of clothes for the show tossed effortlessly over his shoulder as they walked. They were a newsroom’s wetdream. She was exuberant and he was magnetic. And they were both trouble. Power, wealth, youth, stability and status. Everyone liked to watch them at their best and loved to watch them at their worst.

“How do you put up with it, Mr. Snow!” A bland-looking man with a microphone called.

“How was the party last night, [Y/N]!” Called another. They always called [Y/N] by her first name because, frankly, she was fairly certain they didn’t know her maiden name and technically she wasn’t Mrs. Snow yet either. Coriolanus’ grip on her tightened at the question.

She smirked at how the power of her own name took away power from her family and their name; the thing they desperately wanted a morsel of.

Considering a future where she inevitably became Mrs. Snow, she thought about how her lifetime of indiscretions would be tied to Coriolanus forever. She smirked wider at their folie a deux.

[Y/N] felt like a doll again, being pushed by Coriolanus like that. She didn’t hate it entirely, though. She liked it when he manhandled her a little. It helped with all the noise that surrounded them these days to be able to turn her brain off and let Coriolanus handle it for her. She would never admit it, but being a good doll for Coriolanus for the foreseeable future didn’t seem too bad. Her stomach churned wicked for thinking that. It made her antsy to not have an exciting retort in front of reporters. [Y/N] usually did, but her head ached too much this morning. Instead, she looked helplessly up at Coriolanus. He glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised. “Overwhelmed?” He asked quietly, but not too quietly. [Y/N] nodded. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’re almost there.” Coriolanus said like a good husband should. [Y/N] thought about how he was rarely such a good husband when other people weren’t looking. Then why had he seemed to care so much that morning? She must’ve been mistaken about one part or the other.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him for in part for his kindness. The crowd aww’d. Kisses were a good way to distract a man. Any man, receiving or watching. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from her neck to the back of her waist. Her fingers went into the soft hair at the bottom of his neck. She felt him inhale sharply. She knew he hated that. “What was that for?” Coriolanus asked when he pulled away, referring to the kiss.

“Wanted to make sure you were real. None of this feels real.” [Y/N] laughed dizzily. It was true, but she felt stupid saying it. She had spent a lot of time feeling stupid recently and this morning was no exception. The hangover and the whirlwind of voices and flashes had emptied her brain completely. Coriolanus leaned in to whisper in her ear again. This time she caught what he said:

“Stop this. We’ve ten steps until we’re in the building. I’ve told you not to touch my hair.”

He pulled away from her and put on his brilliant, effortless smirk that rich boys his age always had. Coriolanus yanked [Y/N] the remaining distance into the news building.

As soon as they entered, they were whisked away to dress for that afternoon’s broadcast. [Y/N] was dropped into a beautician’s chair to make her face look like someone else’s. She groaned at the duty she held.

Makeup brushes and blowdryers and curling irons and spray bottles of who knows what clouded [Y/N] of vision.

She wished Coriolanus was in her immediate vicinity so she could glance over him and laugh cruelly about how stupid all this is. He was always good for a laugh at the expense of things like this.

“Honey, who does your hair on the regular? I suggest you switch to someone else.” The obscene-looking woman pulling her hair back asked.

[Y/N] laughed, but said nothing. [Y/N] wanted to strangle her.

Not long after that, [Y/N] was pulled up to her feet and forced into a dress that she at least knew she liked. Tight around the waist and thighs, capping off at the knees. It was higher necked, but was so tight that it left little to the imagination. She knew Coriolanus would get frustrated with a fluffy dress, so she picked one that would make his eyes bug out instead. It was off-white with a delicate floral pattern outlined in a brighter white.

[Y/N] looked great. She knew this as she admired the contrasting bulk of the shoulders and flowing sleeves with the clinging exposure of her curves everywhere else. She didn’t exactly look like herself, though. Especially with her hair and makeup done so precisely. She wasn’t precise, she was messy. Precise didn’t suit her.

[Y/N] wondered if the her that stared back in the full-body mirror was the real her now. Messy her was gone. A Capitol wife remained. A doll.

She slid her black ankle-breaking heels on and shook the thought away as she entered the sound stage.

[Y/N] always forgot how noble Coriolanus was capable of looking, considering he was distinctly the opposite. She stared at him. Mauve coat, black trousers, crisp white undershirt, white tie, white rose. Clearly, he had let someone touch his hair. Even if it was a stylist.

Coriolanus gestured for her to walk over to where he stood and Lucky sat. It was difficult to walk with the dress clinging around her knees and the height of her heels. Her short, intentional steps felt demeaning. Most things in her life felt vaguely demeaning, but she kept turning a purposeful blind eye. The stage lights were too bright. Coriolanus’ teeth were too white for the amount of throats he’d ripped out.

Capitol magic.

“Hello Darling. You look lovely.” Coriolanus said as she approached. He took his hand in her and kissed it. Coriolanus’ eyes never looked up at hers because they were too busy looking at how her body fit the dress.

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied neutrally. “Hi Lucky. Green’s really your color.” [Y/N] lied. Lucky’s green, wintery tux was vile and everyone with eyes and a modicum of taste would see that.

Coriolanus coughed into his shoulder to cover a scoff. He wrapped a strong arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

“Thank you, [Y/N]! Good to see you, pleasantries, pleasantries, yada yada. Shall I call you [Y/N]…? Mrs. Snow… The network doesn’t really know what the hell to do with you.” Lucky beamed from his chair.

“Oh, uh… I’m not really Mrs. Snow yet. It’s not necessary. My first name will do. I’m not picky, though.”

She felt Coriolanus deflate a little beside her as he dropped her waist and folded himself into the gaudy patterned armchair the network provided. [Y/N] felt a sting of guilt. Maybe she should have let him carry on with the Mrs. Snow thing. Coriolanus would have to get over it. “Sure thing, hon. Anyway, go ahead. Take your seat. Some of these questions are tacky, tacky, tacky, but do your best and humor us. Panem wants to know the real you.” Lucky beamed.

“I’m sure they do.” They don’t. And they won’t.

“You kids really are… Wow, lovely to share the stage with. You make me look old and sad comparatively, damn,” Lucky joked. “It’s been a good while since I’ve had the pleasure of sitting alongside Coriolanus like this. You were a child then. Crazy, the passage of time.” He continued.

“Lucky, it’s always an honor.” Coriolanus said. Coriolanus hated Lucky. [Y/N] marveled at his ability to lie so gracefully.

A group of production folks stepped out of the shadows to give them bottled water and let them know the show was about to begin. The studio audience poured in through side doors.

[Y/N] quickly leaned over to Coriolanus. “I thought this was a pre-tape.” She whispered frantically.

“You didn’t remember this interview existed three hours ago. You’ll deal with it.” He replied, with a note of his own panic he was unable to squash.

Fifteen minutes of seating and then a live camera inches away from [Y/N]’s face. “Well, we really thank you for having us on your show, Lucky.” She smiled. The audience analyzed them like vultures. This was the most wicked game designed for them, but Coriolanus didn’t lose. [Y/N] would have to be perfect.

“Of course! Always a pleasure, [Y/N]. Let’s get to some of these questions on my handy little list of questions, huh?” A few shallow questions about what designers they were wearing, what their morning routine was like to look so gorgeous, Coriolanus leaning over to hold [Y/N]’s hand across their chairs (the audience sighed lovingly). Coriolanus curls, stubborn as he was, fell out of the hold of the hairspray like they always did. She smirked and reached up with her left hand to push them out of his eyes. Oh, he hated that. [Y/N] could tell. Lovely.

“Oh, look at that ring,” Lucky said. “The ring we’ve all been talking about. Let’s get a closeup on that rock,” the camera pushed in to [Y/N]’s hand obediently. A large ruby mounted on a white gold band. She had been assured it was real. [Y/N]’s other jewelry, silver, sat patina-ing in a wooden box because of it.“Beautiful. Must’ve cost you a pretty penny, Coriolanus.”

“Yes, Coryo, how much did it cost?” [Y/N] asked. Coriolanus shifted in his seat. Money was not a thing Coriolanus discussed.

“A bit.” He replied stiffly. [Y/N] grinned.

“Uh, you both are mighty famous for that ring. I suppose it’s time to discuss that crazy engagement party. I was there to witness the whole thing firsthand, of course.”

The Snows-to-be nodded.

“These questions can get uncomfortable, but I’m sure you’ll answer all the same. So, your relationship seems… Alarmingly happy today for two people debating splitting over infidelity at the celebration of their engagement.”

“Please, we only debate it when I’m drunk, Lucky.” [Y/N] said much to the audiences joy. They laughed heartily.

“Which is too often, if you want my opinion.” Another laugh from the audience for Coriolanus, never one for being outdone. She knew, in his mind, she deserved that.

“Rehabilitation is always an opinion.” Lucky joked darkly, not knowing what to say.

“Being wild is fun, though, isn’t it? I’m not from privilege and grace as much as my fiancé. He’s always been elegant. I’m learning; I have a good teacher. But you only get your youth once. You would know, I’m sure, Lucky. When someone loves you as much as Coriolanus loves me… He always forgives my mistakes. He’s too good me. He’s patient.” [Y/N] said. He was patient, but it came out in the way that he played the long game. His impulses along the way were markedly less patient. Coriolanus squeezed her hand tightly as a warning.

Lucky smiled bitterly. “Well, I’m sure he’ll learn to keep you on a shorter leash eventually. Actually, I hear you were out last night as well.”

Fuck.

“Yes, bachelorette party, you see.”

“The studio’s telling me,” Lucky clutched his earpiece. “They have some photos from your last wild night as an unwed woman.”

“Oh. Is that so…? Haha,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus squeeze her hand until her own knuckles were white. Neither one of them had a clue what they were about to throw up on that screen. Coriolanus inhaled shakily, but maintained neutrality. “Can’t be worse than the sides you saw of us a few months back at the—“

It was worse.

The dress was short, but Coriolanus had known that when she stopped into his office to tell him she was going out. He had responded with a “That? Really? Okay…” with quiet anger that the dress wasn’t being worn for him.

Then there was the dreaded miniature morphling vile empty between her fingers. It was obvious she was trying to talk with her friends under the flashing lights. They were all wearing similar fare. Six or seven drunk, high young women pictured together wasn’t that bad, even for some of the old school Capitol prudes.

None was more damning than the strange man’s hand planted firmly on [Y/N]’s ass. His smile was too wide. The [Y/N]’s in the picture’s grimace at the stranger over her shoulder was uncomfortable. It screamed DON’T-TOUCH-ME. She looked like she was telling him to stop, but her eyes were wide and her lips were pulled into a frown. The subtext implied by the woman in the photo was Coriolanus is going to kill me. She sighed. The crowd gasped. Coriolanus inhaled sharply.

[Y/N] had said her behavior the night before was inherently not unfaithful. Coriolanus didn’t feel the need to not believe her since she was the one who brought it up. The apples of Coriolanus cheeks grew red with rage. The stranger’s smile was too big. He knew he was touching Coriolanus Snow’s fiancée. He knew was taking advantage of a helpless girl and her friends. He knew he was defacing someone else’s property.

Coriolanus Snow was going to find this man and ruin his life.

[Y/N], humiliated, looked over at Coriolanus. She had a hazy memory of telling some guy to “knock it off” the night before. Truly, she did remember this, but of course, she hadn’t thought this would be a big deal. This was a part of her life she had had to deal with since she was a young woman. This man’s action was undesired, but not unexpected. Taking in the photo and the look on his fiancée’s face as she shook her head slowly at him was enough for Coriolanus to determine that this touch was unwanted. [Y/N] looked guilty, but she had little reason to be. He hated seeing that look on her face in a situation he didn’t create.

[Y/N]’s only crime was going out without Coriolanus. She knew he hated when she did that. If he had been there, he would’ve handled the situation there and then. She was never going out alone again. She needed him. Right now, he was going to be the man she needed.

“Take that off the screen.” Coriolanus said firmly to Lucky.

“Well, first, let’s have—“ Lucky tried.

“I don’t think you heard me. I said take it down,” Coriolanus continued. He turned to the cameras and those behind them. “Now.”

Coriolanus watched a young woman at a screen immediately buckle at his demand and begin scrambling to pull the image. The show’s graphic was returned to the monitor. “Thank you,” Coriolanus said in the woman’s direction. [Y/N] stared at the floor, beet-red. She was trying not to cry, but what would it matter if she did? Coriolanus knew too well the meaning of her tell-tale sniffle and avoidant eye contact. He turned back to Lucky. “I think that was extremely rude of you and your production group to put up an image, without consent, of my fiancée getting touched without consent. It’s apparent to me from looking at that photo that my fiancée did not welcome that touch. Would you agree?”

“Possibly, but since the engagement party—“

“I think you forget I trust [Y/N]. Are you the one marrying her?”

“… No. But hey, this is my show, kid. Let’s get back on track with—“

Coriolanus knew better than most people that what was said and done on live television was as good as forever. He would use that to his advantage. Nobody came for Coriolanus’ belongings and left with the hand that tried to snatch them.

“I’m not finished,” Coriolanus snapped. [Y/N] reached for Coriolanus’ hand again to signal that that’s enough, dear. He took it and looked over at her. He was angry; normal person righteous angry. Not manic, not cold. That was a new face. Coriolanus had so many pretend faces that clipped on and off. [Y/N] had previously thought she had seen them all. “Were you wanting that touch, Princess? Did you know him?” He asked [Y/N]. She shook her head with her eyes damp and downcast. “As I implied, you don’t know us. Don’t ever embarrass my fiancée like that,” or me, [Y/N] assumed his subtext as he spoke. “Whoever this moron in the picture is has another thing coming. What kind of self-respecting news network aims to humiliate guests for something they couldn’t help?” Coriolanus said. [Y/N]’s heart raced. He cared. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but his support mattered. No one else was going to do it.

Sometimes he was absent, yes, but Coriolanus always came through when [Y/N] needed him. She was grateful that he wasn’t angry with her, even if that part came later in private. She was grateful for now that his way of easing his own pain eased hers too. She could get used to that. [Y/N] let out tears of temporary relief and reached for the box of tissues on the round table between guests and host.

Coriolanus stared Lucky down and settled himself further back in his seat with a sigh. “Next question?” The blonde man said.

—

The ride home was nearly silent. [Y/N] had started crying the second she sat down in the car. Coriolanus hadn’t say anything, but he kept his hand in hers the whole time. He didn’t even fight to let go when his palm got sweaty. [Y/N] pulled his hand close to her chest. She had done nothing wrong, yet she felt that everything was her fault. She had failed Coriolanus. This media wreck wasn’t just a game for photographers and journalists, this one embarrassed her genuinely. This one embarrassed Coriolanus and she was constantly told she was not supposed to do that. Don’t embarrass me rang against every corner in her brain.

The car stopped in front of their building. Coriolanus, as he always seemed to, opened her car door before the driver could get out. Coriolanus thanked the driver and put an arm around [Y/N] and led her up the stairs to their townhouse. The door closed behind them. Coriolanus locked the deadbolt with a heavy clunk. Safe from eyes that watched every failure with glee. They could be people again.

“I’m sorry, Coriolanus,” [Y/N] said, mascara down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know him. Really, I didn’t. I told you this morning. I—I didn’t know him.” She backed herself protectively towards the couch and away from Coriolanus in learned preemptive panic.

“I know,” Coriolanus said. “Nobody but me gets to touch you like that. I know you’re smart enough to understand that. I cannot fathom how another man thinks he can do that to you and get away with it.”

“That’s… That’s been happening my whole adult life, you can’t magically make that—“

“I don’t think you understand, Darling. I can. I don’t want to know that anyone has ever touched you like that. I swear on my mother’s grave. I will fucking murder them.” His winter blue eyes could vaporize a perpetrator on the spot.

“Coriolanus, that’s extreme.”

“Not to me. Not when you’re involved.”

“You can’t hurt people that looked at me funny. It’s hardly a crime.”

“Isn’t their some old line about not coveting another man’s wife?”

“…Yes. You have a future. You can’t interrupt your opportunities because some shithead—“

“It won’t interrupt anything. Wouldn’t it make you feel better to know that a creep like that was off the streets?”

“…Yes.”

“Well, then we agree. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

[Y/N] blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be. I’m not angry with you about this. I know I can trust you. I do. You know I do. I don’t worry about that. I cannot trust other people around you, especially when you use that filthy drug,” Coriolanus said. He extend a hand to [Y/N] as he approached like he would approaching a scared animal. That hand went slowly to [Y/N]’s waist. Coriolanus pulled her in closer so they were chest to chest. “You are not going out without me to some party like that ever again. Disrespecting you like that means disrespecting me, too. I won’t stand for either.”

“I—“

Coriolanus was going to get what he wanted all along: [Y/N] alone with him always. How could she need anyone else? Everyone out there wanted to hurt her, touch her, make her feel bad about herself. Not Coriolanus. Perhaps, he should be thanking that man instead of cutting his fingers off one at a time. “No. Let me keep you safe. That’s all this is. I want you safe. I’m to be your husband. That’s my job. Won’t you let me do my job, [Y/N]?” He said too calmly. His blue eyes stared deep into hers. Coriolanus had a fantastic talent for telling someone something and letting them think it was a question; letting them think it was their idea— letting them they had a choice.

He was right. He did make her feel safe. Holding on to her like this made her melt. In Coriolanus’ arms, [Y/N] felt secure. He was moody, but Coriolanus was frustratingly reliable. He wanted to make himself the bedrock of [Y/N]’s life. She had no choice but to allow him that. [Y/N] breathed out and he felt her breath fan out across his face. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let that happen to you anymore. I promise.” Coriolanus muttered.

He tipped his mouth slowly into her neck and hungrily sucked at the place below her ear. A gasp caught in [Y/N]’s throat at the surprise sensation. Her knees wobbled and her dress and shoes didn’t make it any better. She put her arms around his neck for support. “Coriolanus…” she whispered. Coriolanus loved the vibration in her throat beneath his lips.

Helplessly, [Y/N] tipped her head back to give her fiancé what he wanted. Coriolanus had sucked a few hickeys on her neck and chest before, sure. Never before had he bitten her. This time, he bit her hard enough to bruise and scab. It was harder to cover an indent with makeup than a simple bruise. If she were to go out even to the grocery store, other men had to understand that [Y/N] was off the market. If an engagement ring wouldn’t do it, this would. Coriolanus bit her with such force that the tears started to well again.

The position they were in felt like a dance. His hands on her waist, hers on his neck, their bodies flush together. [Y/N] fell deeper into the black hole of Coriolanus Snow. This must have been on purpose. He knew she loved to dance with him and made it a weapon. Damn him. She would always say yes to a dance, wouldn’t she? Wasn’t this whole relationship just a fucked up dance?

The man reached one hand down and pulled up [Y/N]’s dress as much as he could get it up and tore it the rest of the way. [Y/N] could swear she had been torn out of a third of her clothing recently. Coriolanus pushed her panties to the side and pushed his fingers into her. It would have hurt if she hadn’t been so wet to begin with. She bobbled on her heels. Once Coriolanus has pumped himself fingertip to hand in and out of her a handful of times, [Y/N] was holding herself up entirely by his neck and shoulders and the fingers that impaled her tenderly. Coriolanus had complete control over the situation. The only thing left for her to do was moan and she didn’t hold back.

Coriolanus was unrelenting. He marked a disturbing black and blue column on her throat the way he liked. Slowly, the pair rocked back and forth from foot to foot, as Coriolanus nipped, fucked and sucked. A fucked-up slow dance to the song of the traffic on the other side of the window.

MORE FROM THE TRUCULENT SERIES

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely @wotcherpeak @24kmar

apologies as always for the little tags that couldn’t.

[guiltyasdave]

takes one to know one

another extra from the dress series universe, but can be read as a stand-alone!

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.3k

summary: “Not a sound,” a deep voice snarls into your ear. A familiar voice. You turn your head ever so slightly to make out his face over your shoulder, your wide gaze meeting his, the brown eyes that you know so well almost black as he drinks you in. You whimper against his palm and he smirks.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (18+ only!), consensual non-consent (it’s not explicitly mentioned but they have a safeword), Dave breaks into reader’s place and chases her, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Dave, sub!reader, degradation kink, knife play, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v (reader is on birth control), rough sex, slapping, spitting, choking, established relationship, hints of fluff because i can’t help myself, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, as always: let me know if i missed anything please <3

i want to make it very clear that cnc has been discussed between the both of them before and that reader is consenting throughout the entire scene that i’ve written here. still, check the tags and if this kind of content upsets you, please don’t read it 🤍

a/n: I’m still struggling with the plot for the main series, but I was horny aaaaand that’s really all I can say for myself. Because I know of several people who have written or want to write about some variation of the ✨knife riding✨, let’s not open up some kind of plagiarism discourse about this, please <3 I got my inspiration from this post and I know others have too, and honestly, I’d read a thousand fics about that shit because it’s fucking hot, so to anyone who wants to write it: PLEASE DO IT

dividers by @/saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here!

You’re sat on your couch, headphones over your ears, typing away on your laptop when a large hand wraps over your mouth, trapping the surprised scream that’s fighting its way up your throat. The headphones are roughly pulled away as you’re frozen in shock, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Not a sound,” a deep voice snarls into your ear. A familiar voice. You turn your head ever so slightly to make out his face over your shoulder, your wide gaze meeting his, the brown eyes that you know so well almost black as he drinks you in. You whimper against his palm and he smirks.

You hadn’t expected him for another few days and you sure as hell hadn’t expected this, but a twisted sensation of anxious excitement is thrumming through your veins.

Your eyes flit over his figure, taking in his dark clothes, more casual than you’re used to and a black cap that you’ve never seen on him before that accentuates his hard jawline and his dark eyes. A buzzing desire shoots through you before you can stop it. He quirks an eyebrow, seemingly amused by the reactions replaying on your face.

You take another breath, your brain running a mile a minute, clocking his hold on you that’s strong but not as strong as it could be and the door in your back that leads out of your apartment. Before you can overthink it, you twist out of his grasp, driving your elbow into his side sharply. His surprised and slightly pained intake of breath barely registers with you as you bolt for the door, your bare feet hitting your hardwood floor. You throw the door open and fly down the stairs as quick as your feet carry you, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

You’ve never played the scenario like this before, but the thought of him chasing after you, his dark figure hunting you down, and the things that he might do to you once he’s caught you, have you breathless with excitement.

You step out onto your street, which is thankfully almost empty in the early evening hours, and take off to one side without thinking. You don’t dare to turn around to check if you’re being followed before you dart into a small alley between two townhouses and press yourself against the wall, praying that he didn’t see and will pass you without noticing.

Your breath is coming in short pants and your gaze is glued to the street while you’re staying hidden in the shadows, determined not to miss him when he -hopefully- passes your hiding spot.

It feels like several minutes tick by, and while you can’t really be sure in your current nervous state, you start feeling anxious. You begin to creep towards the opening between the houses when a hand covers your face for the second time this night, the other hand wrapping around your wrist in an iron grip.

“Boo,” Dave whispers into your ear from behind you, making you jump, his body crowding you in as he spins you around to face him.

“Thought you could run away from me?” he smirks, his hand moving away from your mouth to possessively wrap around your neck. “Let’s get you back home, doll.”

He keeps a tight hold on your slightly trembling body, much tighter than before, and the adrenaline is slowly being replaced by more nervous excitement as he leads you back to your place, up the stairs until you’re standing in front of the door. He pulls the keys out and opens up, shoving you inside before he slams the door shut behind the both of you.

He holds your weary gaze while he locks the door, then he’s on you, pushing you against the wall, his hands clawing at your body, sliding under your shirt and tearing at the waistband of your leggings.

“P-please,” you whimper, pushing weakly at his hands.

“No,” he growls, capturing both of your wrists and holding them above your head while he glares down at you.

“You thought that was funny, huh?” He motions with his head towards the door, his voice an angry snarl. “Thought you were smart, that you could trick me?”

“N-no, please, I-” You shake your head, your voice thick with tears that are brimming in your eyes. He gathers both of your wrists in one hand, the other hand roughly slapping your cheek and causing your head to fly to the side.

“Shut up,” he spits, “I don’t want to hear another word from you, is that clear?”

Traces of real fear are coursing through your veins, but this is exactly how you wanted it to be, exactly how you had asked to be treated. Despite the fear, you feel wetness gathering between your thighs, and desire blooming in your whole body.

“Please,” you try again, not sure what you’re even begging for, just playing into the feeling of being completely at his mercy that you enjoy so much.

His hand hits your cheek again, twice in quick succession this time, and a whimpering moan escapes your mouth. “Not another word,” Dave repeats, his cold eyes boring into yours. He reaches for his belt and raises his hand a moment later, holding a knife that looks concerningly big, especially with how close it is to your face. He presses the blade against your throat and you freeze, your heartbeat loud in your ears and your eyes wide, your entire focus on him.

“Not another word, or you’ll regret it. Is that clear?” he asks again, his voice low and drenched in coldness. You manage the tiniest nod, scared to move against the blade that you can still feel on the delicate skin beneath your jaw.

“Good,” he grins, slotting his knee between your thighs and it takes everything in you not to grind down onto him. He removes the knife from your throat and presses his mouth onto your skin instead, his hands sliding under your shirt and groping at your tits while he sucks and bites on your neck with a roughness that is surely going to leave your skin sore for days. He kneads your breasts and pinches your nipples, sending jolts of equally pain and pleasure through your body. Your head is leaning back against the wall, your eyes pinched shut and high pitched whimpers falling from your lips.

He stops abruptly and gathers your face in his hand, squeezing your cheeks between his thumb and his fingers. “Stop complaining,” he snarls, “you think I can’t feel the way you’re soaking my pants right here?” His other hand cups your mound over your leggings, fingers digging into the drenched fabric and you can’t stop your moan, nor the way your hips buck to chase his touch when he pulls it away again.

“Desperate little slut, so fucking easy, just waiting around for someone to come and fuck you, weren’t you?” You try shaking your head and he tightens his hold on your face. “Don’t lie, sweetheart,” he says, his voice a cold whisper, “you love being treated like this. Love being put in your place. I think you should thank me.”

You give another small shake of your head and he lets go of your face to wrap his hand around your throat instead. His hold there tightens slowly and your eyes grow wider as he arches an eyebrow at you. You start feeling dizzy and your hand flies to his wrist, tugging desperately, but he just chuckles, squeezing your throat tighter. Desire burns between your legs as you’re gasping for breath, finally giving up on the defiance, like you both knew you would.

“Thank you,” you force out, almost choking on the words, and Dave grins triumphantly, loosening his grip on your throat.

“See,” he coos, leaning closer until you can feel his breath on your face, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He grabs your neck again and maneuvers you into your bedroom, where he orders you to strip, to show me what I came here for, doll, while he leans against your doorframe, watching your trembling form with a smirk in his face. You do as he says, pulling your shirt over your head and your leggings down your legs until you’re standing in front of him in nothing but your panties.

His eyes flit over your body, lingering on your breasts with an expression of hunger on his face, until they stop at your underwear. “Those too. Unless you’d rather have me cut them off?” The knife is back in his hand and he’s twirling it mindlessly. Your gaze follows the motion for a second, mesmerized by the casual ease with which he’s handling the weapon, until you remember his threat and hastily strip out of the panties, leaving yourself completely bare while he’s still fully dressed.

He stalks towards you, crowding you in and his fingers wander between your legs, swirling through the wetness at your entrance and making you gasp when he flicks your clit. “I knew it,” he grins smugly, “you’re so fucking wet for me. Like it or not, sweetheart, you love being treated like this. Best to just accept it.” He leans in to bite at your neck again, still playing with your clit while his other hand splays over your ass, causing you to flinch when the knife’s blade makes contact with your skin there. You’re helplessly turned on, so many sensations all over your body that you can barely process and you wrap your arms around his neck without thinking about it, just wanting him to give you more, to make you feel good the way you know he can.

“Good girl, there she is,” he whispers into your ear. Then he pulls back, stepping around you and throwing your naked body down onto the bed, looming over you, the knife still clutched in his hand. He straddles your thighs, smirks at you and pecks your lips, then he pulls back and drives the knife into the mattress beside you in one fluid motion, tearing through the material until only the handle is visible, sticking out of your bed.

A small scream had escaped your throat at the sudden motion and another slap lands on your face. “There,” he grins, the amusement clear on his face. “You so desperately want to have your cunt filled - use this.” Your stare flickers between him and the knife a couple of times, understanding slowly growing inside your mind.

“Y-you want me to ride? …T-this?”

Dave pets your cheek almost affectionately, then nods towards the handle. “Exactly. And you better get on with it, you don’t want to test my patience, do you?” You gulp and shake your head, wearily eyeing the intimidatingly large piece of black material that’s sticking out of your mattress. Dave clicks his tongue impatiently and you scramble to your knees, positioning yourself until you’re hovering over the knife.

Your insides are burning with the humiliation that he’s putting you through, but there’s also a twisted sense of excitement bubbling inside of you, knowing that no one but him would push you like this, which is why no one like him makes you feel like this. Your slick is dripping down your legs and you know that he can see it, with the way he’s watching you closely as you’re still hovering, anxiously biting your lip.

You look up at his face and despite the cold and cruel mask that he’s been wearing all evening, you can still see the fire in his eyes, making you feel warm, telling you that ultimately, despite everything, you’re safe with him and he wants you to enjoy yourself, will push you to enjoy yourself if necessary. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t take you out of the scene, but his voice is still clear in your head, speaking words that you’ve heard a hundred times. For me, sweetheart. I know you can.

You take a deep breath, your brows furrowing in concentration, and start sinking down. It’s an awkward angle at first and you need to adjust your position, but then the knife’s handle is pressing against your entrance. You gaze up at Dave again, whose eyes are trained on your pussy, watching eagerly as you sink down further. It feels strange, not unlike a toy, you think, but the shape isn’t exactly right and with a toy you wouldn’t be worried about cutting yourself with a wrong move. Your walls stretch around the foreign item and you gasp at the sensation, the feeling of finally being filled up giving you the sweet pleasure that you had been craving.

You begin moving your hips over the handle without further instruction from Dave, sliding up and down in careful motions, still aware of the sharp blade that’s currently buried in your bed, but sparks of pleasure are traveling up your spine nonetheless.

Dave reaches out to tweak your nipples again and you arch your back towards his touch, causing him to laugh. “That’s right, slut, fuck yourself on my knife. You’d do anything as long as that greedy pussy gets filled up, wouldn’t you?” You nod mindlessly, chasing your pleasure, the whole situation sending your arousal into overdrive.

Standing beside you, Dave finally pulls his dark sweater over his head, then opens his belt buckle. You eagerly drink in the sight of him, his broad chest and shoulders, his strong arms and his softer stomach, the smatter of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband.

“Please,” you whisper, once again not certain what you’re even asking for, but you want more, more of him.

“Open your mouth,” Dave demands, leaning down to your level when you obey eagerly. He spits into your mouth, his saliva pooling on your tongue, the degrading but weirdly intimate motion making you moan desperately. “Keep it open,” he mutters as he pushes down his pants and underwear in one motion, your eyes flying to his cock before you can help yourself. He glides his hand along his length slowly, watching you while you’re still riding his knife, your combined saliva pooling in your open mouth and the desperate longing clear on your face.

He steps closer and taps the head of his cock on your tongue, eliciting another moan from you when you feel the familiar weight. “Yeah, need all your holes stuffed, one just isn’t enough, huh?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and thrusts into your mouth, holding your head steady as he presses his cock into your mouth until he’s nudging at your throat. You try your hardest not to gag and shudder in his grasp, tears spilling from your eyes and mixing with the spit that’s drooling out of your mouth.

He pulls back a little, letting you suck on him instead while you try to keep up your rhythm on the knife’s handle. “So good,” he groans, his hand curled in your hair, “taking me so fucking good.” He starts fucking your mouth again in quick thrusts and tweaks your nipples until you moan around him, the vibration causing his grip in your hair to tighten. “Think you can come like this?” he pants, “does riding my fucking knife while I’m fucking your throat turn you on that much?”

You nod as best as you can, pleadingly looking up at him. “Dirty fucking slut,” he snarls, landing another slap on your cheek that has you clenching almost painfully around the knife. “Go on then, touch yourself.” Your hand flies to your clit at his words, rubbing at the tight bundle of nerves and shuddering at the pleasure that’s thrumming through your veins. You come almost embarrassingly quick, the different forms of stimulation flooding your senses until you’re writhing on your knees, moaning around the cock in your throat as waves of pleasure roll through your body.

You faintly register Dave getting on the bed behind you and his hands on your shoulders. He pulls you off of the handle roughly and you fall back against his chest, still on your knees, barely keeping yourself upright. “Good fucking girl,” he coos into your ear as he pulls you into his body, his large hands pressing into your flesh. “You’re a quick learner. No need to get hurt when you’re obedient like this, see?” Then he pushes your head back down until you’re at eye level with the handle, still drenched in the wetness that your pussy has left behind. “Open up,” his cold voice demands from above you, underlining the order with a sharp slap to your ass when you don’t react quick enough. “Clean up your mess, make it all nice and shiny while I fuck this dirty little cunt.”

You feel a new wave of wetness between your legs at his words and obediently close your lips around the tip of the handle, moaning at the taste of yourself. “Just like that,” you hear Dave from behind you before his hand is in your hair again, pushing you down further. His other hand’s fingers are digging into your hip as he’s lining himself up and thrusting into you in one rough motion. Your scream at the sudden stretch gets muffled in your mouth and you hear his faint chuckle before he starts moving, setting a brutal pace right from the beginning that has you writhing, your hips stuttering with the force of his thrusts.

“That’s it, good girl, take it just like that,” Dave pants, his voice wrecked, “good fucking girl.” Getting praised while being in this degrading situation has your head spinning. You hear the wet squelch every time his cock presses inside of you, the smack of his flesh against his, the touch of his hands feeling so rough but so right on your body.

Dave is groaning behind you, sliding into you in hard thrusts that make your eyes roll back into your head and moving against your g-spot again and again. You feel yourself tightening up around him, more wetness seeping out of you until you can’t take it anymore. You tip over the edge, your whole body tensing up, shudders running through you as stars explode across your vision and your pussy clenches around his cock rhythmically.

You hear him swear behind you, his hips stilling and his hands pulling your body back against his chest, his cock pulsing deep inside of you and painting your walls with his release.

“So fucking good,” he murmurs and presses a gentle kiss against the soft skin under your ear. You nod, your mind still dazed but a tired smile growing on your face.

He gently pulls out of you and moves your body up the bed until your head is resting on the pillows. He cleans you up, peppering your entire face with kisses, muttering praises against your skin, replacing his demanding hands with soft, featherlight touches.

You watch with wide eyes as he carefully pulls the knife back out of your now ruined mattress and puts it down on your nightstand. The handle is still glistening with the remnants of your spit. Dave catches your eye and grins in that cocky way of his that almost makes you want him between your legs again immediately.

“Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a new one.” You smirk and stretch your arms out towards him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him down into a kiss, his lips softly moving against yours, the dominating persona all but blown away.

“You better,” you murmur against his mouth and his responding chuckle makes you smile.

if you liked this fic, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment, you’d really make me suuuuper happy! 🤍

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love. 

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 25.

Xilä is my own creation.

WAIT! Please note this part contains time skips.

~

Part 21 - Epilogue

‘Xilä’s in labor.’

‘My wife is about to have my kid.’

‘Holy shit, my kid. Mine…’

‘I’m going to be a father.’

‘Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.’

To say Neteyam was freaking out was putting it mildly and- Oh fuck. His damn father-in-law was walking towards him. The last thing he wanted was for the man to see him like this. 

The first time Neteyam had a full conversation with Jxo, he was ten years old. 

To him, Jxo had always been a man of very few words. He never smiled, hated small talk and was extremely intimidating. But he was also incredibly respected throughout the entire clan, and well, Salveen liked him a lot, and so did bossy D’avi, so those were good enough reasons for the ten year old to think him alright. 

Being the chief’s son brought its fair share of challenges. There was a time when a group of boys tried to bully him over his “golden boy” status. Neteyam had fought back- and lost. 

He was ten, and a mess after. And instead of returning home, he ran to Sal’s but she’d already gone to the kitchens that evening. 

Jxo, seeing his cuts and bruises beckoned him in and silently cleaned his injuries- a split lip, swollen cheek, scraped knees and bloody knuckles. 

And when the man finally asked, “What happened?” 

Neteyam broke down and sobbed. He was hysterical and mad at himself for not being strong, mad that he was even crying. He was a man for Eywa sake! A soldier! A warrior! Just like his dad. 

But that day he was grateful that Jxo didn’t treat him like a silly kid- like everyone else did. Jxo calmed him. He was his usual gruff self and spoke to him straight. Treated him like an equal and imparted words of advice Neteyam needed to hear.  

Flash forward to fifteen years later, on the night that he would become a father for the first time, Neteyam was hysterical just like that very day. 

Xilä’s water had only broken half an hour ago and Neteyam was spiralling- or freaking out as his visiting brother had been teasing. Irritated and short tempered, he snapped at anyone who got too close to his mate who had been slowly pacing up and down the interior of the Tsahìk’s tent while her birthing room was being prepared. 

And just like he did fifteen years ago, Jxo and his no nonsense- never one to beat around the bush, pulled him outside and called him an idiot- a skxawng, telling him he needed to to get his shit together and stop snarling and hissing at everyone like a “fucking palulukan”. 

When he’d finished telling him off, he blew out a breath then continued- far gentler or as gentle the man could be, parting fatherly words of wisdom and advice with a comforting hand clasped on his shoulder. 

Neteyam humbled himself and took it all in, and by the end he felt lighter, calmer and far more level headed. 

With a final, “Don’t fuck it up. She needs you. So get in there, skxawng,” the soon to be father chuckled with a brisk nod, thanked the elder and headed towards his wife. 

~

“Swear I’ve gone back twenty-five years,” Jake murmured in disbelief at his grandson in his arms. “He looks just like you did, son.” 

Neytiri hastily wiped a tear that escaped her as she too stared transfixed. 

“He’s got Xi’s eyes,” Neteyam announced proudly as he lingered closely. 

“And her ears,” his mother noted with another sniffle. “He’s beautiful.” Neytiri gently stroked Sprout’s little fist. “Jake, you've had him long enough. It is my turn again,” she bossed her husband. 

Passed over to his grandmother, their baby made a soft sound. He whined and twisted slightly before settling back into sleep.

Jxo pressed another kiss to the top of his daughter’s head as she rested against his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, darling,” her father told her for the third time since their parents were let in. “You did good.” 

Sal nodded in agreement, her own eyes swimming in happy tears as she tucked a few of Xi’s braids behind her ear and continued to fuss over her- pouring her another cup of tea to help with the pain. 

Xilä was exhausted but yet a soft smile still graced her face as she watched their parents meet their son for the first time. Jxo was the first to hold him after he’d greeted her with quiet words of praise. And just like Mo’at did, when she eased her son into her father’s arms, she didn’t miss the way his eyes glistened. 

The entire moment was heartwarming, yet slightly comical to a degree. She grinned as she watched her husband hover protectively, scrutinizing every move any of them made as they held their child. 

Even when Jake huffed amused, stating, “You know I had four of you right? I think I know how to hold a baby,” even then Neteyam didn’t care, he still fretted and lectured and adjusted their holds. 

“Oh Eywa, you’re going to be a father just like my Jxo, aren’t you?” Sal chuckled and gently adjusted her grandson with the unnecessary aid of her son-in-law who had told her for the third time to, “Watch his head.” 

“Huh?” Neteyam asked, baffled, the same time Jxo released a noise of offence. 

“Yes, yes. He never liked anyone holding our D’avi. So protective he was.” She hummed wistfully at the memory, eyes never leaving the little one who had taken hold of her finger. “You are so sweet, yes you are. Hi. Hi,” she whispered softly as he blinked up at her, waking from his doze. 

“This does not surprise me,” Neytiri chimed in. “Neteyam was never very good at sharing the things he loves. Xilä, and now our grandson will be included as well I’m afra- Oh Sal, look at his eyes.” 

“Mom!” 

But she ignored him since her and Sal’s attention laid solely on baby Sprout who was yawning, tiny body stretching in Sal’s hold.

“We’d be lucky if we ever get to see the kid,” Jake said, joining in on the teasing. “Knowing our son, he’d keep them locked away.”

Neytiri frowned at this. “My sweet Xi, you won’t let him hide the two of you away all the time, yes? I would like to see my grandson whenever I so pl-”

“Mom. Of course you’d get to see him.” Then after a long pause Neteyam continued with, “But there will be boundaries, and Xilä and I would expect that you all would… respect them.” 

Jake covered his grin of amusement behind his fist and Jxo hid his in Xi’s hair- both men’s eyes automatically cutting to their wives who both had identical looks of indignation. In their heads Neteyam might as well just said they weren’t allowed to see their grandson… ever.

The women looked about ready to protest, but in the end they gave their agreement without so much as a peep. Neytiri however did reach out and pull her son- who was twice her size- into a hug with a, “Eywa, my baby is all grown up now.” 

“Can I have him, mother?” Xi was itching to have her son back in her arms. It hadn’t been long but she missed him already. 

Neteyam was the one to pass him over. His palm found Xi’s nape, thumb stroking her cheek as he stole a kiss from her, uncaring of their audience. 

Sprout stretched with another yawn, fingers opening then curling back up before he nosed at her chest instinctively, cooing a tiny fuss as his legs kicked out. 

Xi tossed a thin cloth over shoulder, covering herself and the babe. She bared one breast and guided him to her nipple. Her baby latched eagerly, little mouth suckling with gusto. 

She knew it was probably a bit silly to want privacy since it was a natural thing to nurse one’s baby in the open. But she wasn’t there quite yet. 

Eyes closed, she listened to the quiet conversation around her and leaned heavily on her husband who curled around her. 

“What have you decided to name him?” Jxo asked his son-in-law. “Have you chosen yet?

Xilä felt smiling lips against her forehead. 

“Zyden. Our son’s name is Zyden.” 

~

Neteyam made his way towards the lively activity at the southern border of the clan- eyes roaming quickly to take in every inch of the scene. 

The mission fleet that had just returned were being aided- travel packs and goods were unloaded while ikran wranglers steadied the restless mountain beasts. 

After being months apart, riders were greeted with open arms by their waiting families and judging by the ease of their smiling faces, Neteyam breathed a small sigh of relief that there seemed to be no pressing worries. 

Tasam who’d led said mission was already talking to the chief. Jake nodded at whatever it was he’d said then clapped him on the shoulder before making his way towards another warrior. 

Neteyam had missed Tasam, he realized. Seeing him after so long filled him with nostalgia, and the memory of them meeting for the first time on their very first day of Iknimaya training played in his mind. 

“‘Teyam! You look good, brother,” Tasam called out. He met him halfway, crooked smile wide at the sight of his comrade and friend. “Fatherhood suits you.”

Neteyam couldn’t hide his pride as they clasped arms in greeting. “Tasam, welcome home. My son… Zyden,” he introduced, titling so that Tasam had a better view of the three month old strapped to his chest. 

A soft swear word escaped Tasam when he saw the baby. He reached out and ran a knuckle along the back of Sprout’s hand in amazement. “He favors your looks.” 

Zyden’s wide silver eyes tracked Tasam’s hand. He cooed loudly then promptly shoved his little fist against his mouth, making sucking sounds as he drooled all over his knuckles.

“I can’t believe I missed so much. How’s Xi? The birth went well?”

“It did, thank Eywa and she’s great. Tired but great.”

Tasam grinned at his friend’s expression. Neteyam was a hardass and as serious as they came. He always seemed to wear a mask of impassiveness that was near impossible to discern most days. Today however, the mask was nowhere to be seen. 

“It’s good to see you this happy.”

“Eywa has bountifully blessed me, how could I not be?” He jerked his head, gesturing for them to walk onwards, a large protective palm resting beneath Zyden. “Tell me, how was the trip? I’m sorry we missed you before you left. I didn’t know you’d be gone so long.”

“I share the same sentiments. As for the trip, it was… interesting. The Sarentu clan… they’re in a bad way. The couple months we stayed we managed to make some good changes, but they still need all the help they can get. I’m hoping another fleet can ride out before the end of the week.”

“It’s that bad?” 

“Their clan is but a fraction of ours and they’re unable to help themselves properly. They have maybe five- six, capable hunters?” he said exasperated. “The clan is exposed. Not enough warriors to provide protection. Not enough hunters to provide food. It is a wonder they have survived this long.”

Neteyam considered his words. “It is things like this that make me glad my father reached out and started this entire initiative. Their chief said as much back at Awa’atlu. He came mainly in the hope that would help.”

With the nearest cluster of communities in sight, Tasam slowed his stroll causing Neteyam to do the same. 

During their walk the father had kept periodically checking in on his son who seemed settled and content against him. Looking down, he saw that Zyden’s eyelids were slowly drooping, little mouth quivering in his sleep as though he were feeding. 

“Do you think Kiri would like bellsprigs? As a gift I mean… It's kind of rare here but bountiful near this clearing I found back at Sarentu.”

The sudden topic change had Neteyam blinking in confusion. 

“Um, sure? I think she’d like them. Wait, aren't those extremely dangerous to harvest?”

“They are- were,” Tasan held up his palm showing off a deep gash that was still healing, “but it’s Kiri. I’d do anything for her.” 

“Huh… You really like her, don’t you?” He got no response and halted, noting his friend was no longer walking beside him. “What is it?” 

“I-” Tasam looked uncomfortable now and was no longer meeting his gaze. “I-” He hesitated again and rubbed at his brow, frowning deeply, almost as if he’d forgotten what he was supposed to say. 

“Tas-”

“I wish for your permission to court Kiri,” he rushed out. 

A long uncomfortable silence proceeded before Neteyam found his voice again. “You- uh, well why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be asking my parents?”

“I’m planning on it. I asked the chief if I could meet with him and your mother after I give my full report tomorrow,” he scratched his neck, “I suppose he knows what I’m going to ask. Your father gave me this weird, blank look then sort of reluctantly agreed… But I- you see…”

It was jarring and almost amusing to Neteyam to see his friend so scatterbrained and fidgety. Was he… nervous? Shit, he was.

“What I’m trying and evidently failing to say here, is- I care for your sister. She has my whole heart and… and although you are my commanding officer and my future chief and I have the highest of respect for you… You’re also my closest friend, and as Kiri’s brother, I’d very much like to have your permission in addition to your parents’.”

Eywa. Neteyam really wished his mate was here. He was not good with these kinds of situations. Not when it came to his sisters. No wonder Jxo always looked like he was about ready to punch his face most times. 

Kiri and Tasam…? His sister and his- well who was Neteyam kidding, Tasam was as good as his best friend. Why did this all seem like a surprise to him though? He somehow knew it would be coming… didn’t he?

He thought back to every interaction between the two. The man was smitten with Kiri, and Kiri… well, Kiri was near unrecognizable around Tasam. 

He made her happy. 

That was all that mattered, no?

“You have my permission.” 

Tasam’s jaw fell a little, then he straightened up when Neteyam’s face turned mildly murderous. 

“But you should know, my sister is precious. I don’t care if you hurt her unintentionally or not… you know what I’m capable of.” 

It should’ve been difficult to take the mighty Neteyam’s threats to heart when he had an adorable infant strapped to his chest. But Tasam still felt the sting of his words.

“Are you nervous to ask my parents?” Neteyam asked when they’d made it to the heart of Home Camp. 

“Am I nervous to ask the clan’s Olo'eyktan and Olo'eykte if I could court their eldest daughter? That’s a joke right?” Tasam huffed. “Course I’m nervous. But I’ve been wanting this for Kiri and I for so long now. That and I already told Kiri I was going to ask her when you all got back.”

Neteyam laughed, accidentally waking his son who woke with a startled cry. He was quick to comfort the baby with soothing strokes and pats on the back. He also gave him his index finger to hold which of course Zyden instantly put in his mouth. 

“You told Kiri you were going to ask her before you asked for my parents permission?” 

Tasam back slapped his arm, careful not to jostle the baby. “If I remember correctly, you did about the same thing with your Xilä.” 

“Shit, that’s right.” 

“And worse… It was all the clan could talk about for months, some still to this very day. No meeting of the parents, no announcements, no ceremonies, no-”

“Alright alright, you made your poi-” 

“You’re back!” a distant voice called excitedly. 

Kiri’s smile was almost giddy as she made her way closer and from the look of Tasam’s he was probably- nope, definitely worse. 

Ugh. Neteyam was suddenly nauseous. While the duo reunited- lovestruck gazes locked on each other, he focused on his son who was still biting away on his finger, drool leaking down his chin and along Neteyam’s palm. 

“Your aunty Kiri and her new boyfriend are going to make your poor daddy sick, aren't they,” he whisper-sang to his son. “Yes they are.” 

Zyden smiled up at this father as if he understood, gurgling while flashing his gums.  

“Oh here, let me help you with that.” Tasam swooped in with ease and hefted the heavy basket Kiri had been straining with. 

“Thank you.” Her cheeks were flushed and she bit her lip to tame her smile while she and the warrior continued to fail at being non obvious lovesick fools. 

Zyden’s coo broke their spell. 

“‘Teyam!” Kiri exclaimed as if shocked to see him standing there.

“Kiri.”

“And Zyden!” His sister snagged the baby right out of his carrier and held him close, squishing his cheek against hers as she rocked him.

Zyden looked slightly alarmed, eyes wide at the sudden movement but he did not cry.

Neteyam simply sighed at the pair all the while and of course, the mighty Tasam was just about melting at the sight. 

~

“What are you up to, my love?”

The baby turned and gave his mother a cheeky grin that showed off all four of his baby teeth and it just about melted her heart. 

But Xi wasn’t fooled by his cuteness, she saw the glint of mischief shining through his expression. 

The determined thing waited until she was busy folding another large sheet before he went off again, crawling towards his most recent fasciation.

“Zyden.” Xilä’s tone was soft but firm. “Uh-uh. No playing over there.”

Zyden released an unhappy whine at the reprimand. And despite his mother’s warning, he still reached and held onto the bottom of the wooden shelf to pull himself up on wobbly legs. 

Even though the shelf that housed her husband’s weapons was sturdy and Xi knew the baby couldn’t reach anything, she still corrected her son- letting him know it was dangerous. 

His little leg tried to lift, dangling with nowhere to perch. Not getting anywhere, he stomped his foot in frustration, though it didn’t stop him from trying again. 

“Zyden Sully!” Xi clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Uh-uh, mama said no. Come down from there.” 

At that, his tiny face scrunched up in anger, bottom lip pouting as tears rapidly pooled along his lash line. He pointed at the shelf and babbled his displeasure.

“I know. I know. But you’re too young for those. When you’re older I’m sure daddy will love teaching you to use them.”

Zyden drew a long, silent breath then promptly wailed louder with his head thrown back. One would swear she’d just ruined his entire life.   

“Aw, come here, my love.” 

She could sense a full blown tantrum brewing and since Sal had told her earlier Zyden missed his afternoon nap, Xi expected her son would turn tired and cranky right around this time. 

Laundry forgotten and scattered around her, she gave him her full attention, beckoning him over. 

“Zyden, my heart, come here.”

Listening, he carefully fell to his butt and crawled towards her. “Mma-ma,” he cried, tiny tail flicking back and forth as he moved.

How was he so perfect? 

Xi gathered him into her arms the second he was within reach and smothered him with kisses- forehead, cheeks, nose, angry twitching ears.

“See? This is why we shouldn’t miss nap time, my love. So cranky,” she cooed in a singsong tone.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned tiredly- proving her point, then impatiently pawed at the cloth that covered her chest.

“Hang on, hang on.”

Settling him against her breast, he nursed more for comfort than hunger and while he fed, Xi stared down at him in adoration. She hummed a song and wiped away his lingering tears, thumb sliding across baby soft skin.

She marvelled over his wild curls while brushing them off his forehead and laughed quietly when he offered her his little foot for her to kiss, tiny toes wiggling cutely. 

Nipple still in mouth, he smiled and reached up to pat her cheek, fingers gentle and stroking much like she’d done to him. 

The action caused a tiny pang of sadness to hit her. He was growing up so fast- too fast.

Every one of his milestones filled her with pride- his first smile, first laugh, first word. She may have shed a tear or two over his first tooth… and maybe over the second, third and fourth ones too. And although she was eager for all the other firsts- especially his first steps, each new milestone always reminded her that he wouldn’t remain a baby forever, so she made sure to relish every moment. 

The clanking sounds of their tent’s chimes alerted her that someone was here, and then the beaming face of her husband entering their home came into view. 

“I’m home!” 

Meal forgotten, Zyden grappled and used her top to help pull himself seated, legs and arms kicking and flailing excitedly at the sight of his daddy, gums and four little teeth proudly on display. 

“Look who’s here, Sprout. Who’s that?”

He glanced back at her and pointed at Neteyam who was hurriedly putting away his things.

Zyden prattled a garble of baby talk, tail slashing so fast, Xi thought it’d flick right off. 

Unable to contain himself any longer and with a loud gleeful shriek, their son crawled right out of her lap and charged full speed across the tapestry-covered ground, towards his father- all traces of his mini tantrum gone. 

Neteyam laughed while scooping him up and tossed him in the air before settling him high on his chest. “Why are you naked, huh little man?” He smacked noisy kisses to Zyden’s chubby cheeks making the baby squeal happily. 

“Your son figured out how to remove his tewng this evening.” Xi adjusted her top and picked up a towel to resume her folding. “Every time I put it back on, he took it off and the game seemed never ending, so I let him win for today.” 

“Oh yeah?” Neteyam grinned proudly, as if she’d told him his son had accomplished some massive achievement. “You’re so clever, Zyden. Daddy’s so proud of you.”

Xilä paused and simply stared at her two favourite people in the universe. Eywa, did she love them with her entire being. 

“Mmba-Da-da.” Zyden babbled, tiny palms smacking Neteyam’s cheek and nose and mouth until he spotted and made a grab for the lone string of beads in his daddy’s hair. 

“That’s right, Sprout, that’s me! I’m daddy.” 

Only recently and after a lot of coaxing, Zyden had started saying dada. Xilä didn’t think she’d ever seen her husband cry that much when he’d said it, but then again she herself was a sobbing sap when his first word was mama. 

Neteyam made his way over and crouched down to greet his wife. She kissed him back and they both broke out into laughter when Sprout leaned over to do the same- drooly lips open against her cheek in his version of a kiss. 

As soon as he was set down, Zyden crawled off towards a forgotten toy. He tossed it away then charged after it, finding fun in doing it over and again. 

“I spoke to Lo’ak and Tsireya this morning,” Neteyam said conversationally as he started helping her fold the laundry. 

“‘Teyam,” she interrupted, using her “mom voice” as her husband so liked to call it. Xi had gotten distracted by the article he’d chosen to fold. 

“What?” he asked in faux innocence. Neteyam snatched up another one after folding it to his best and shot her a naughty wink.

Her mate always went for her undercloths first, forever eager to handle the intimate, flimsy things. She shook her head and snickered while he continued on, telling her about Awa’atlu updates. 

The pair chatted about their day- him informing of the new shipment of goods they were preparing to send to the Sarentu and Ta'unui clans, and her prattling on about her early morning lesson with Mo’at and then filling him in on their son’s fascination with his shelf of weapons. 

At some point Zyden had grown bored of his toy and fussily demanded his daddy’s attention. Neteyam dramatically tossed him amidst a pile of clean furs, keeping him entertained as they fought playfully.  

Later on, it was a battle to get Zyden to put his tewng back on, much less keep it on, but soon after, the little family of three made their way to the communal dinner, with their baby babbling the entire way there.

As if he belonged to her, Neytiri plucked their son out of his father’s arms the second they entered the clearing. Zyden was passed around from grandparent to grandparent before he finally settled contentedly next to his aunty Tuk who fussed over him as if she were a grown up. 

It was honestly quite cute seeing her break off tiny pieces of soft root vegetables and feed them to him. She offered him sips of her water which just splashed right down his chest and scolded him lightly when he ate too fast.  

Neytiri, who was nearer, kept careful watch and intercepted fast grabby hands whenever Zyden went after something he wasn’t supposed to. Neteyam chuckled from his spot when his son made a dive for poor Tasam’s teylu. 

The baby was most unhappy when his grandmother lifted him away with a chiding. He even gave Tuk what looked like a glare of betrayal after she giggled saying, “Zyyyyden. You don’t even have enough teeth to eat that, silly.” 

Midway through their meal, D’av and her family showed up. L’eya- toddler on a mission, plopped herself into Xi’s lap to excitedly show her a bug she’d found on the way. “It- it prewdy huh, aunty Xi? An it-it glows and eberyting too. See?”

Xi oohed and awed over the bug in her niece’s palm and Neteyam did the same- pausing his conversation with Jake when she crawled into his lap as well, before eventually running off to do the same with her grandparents. 

“You’re late. You hate being late,” Xi teased her sister who settled beside her. She frowned when she really looked at her sister.  “Are you unwell? You’re pale. Here let me see your-”

D’avi brushed her fussing off. “Stop that. If mother catches you she’s going to come over here and I don’t need that right now. You’re forgetting Yalnïk and I have two toddlers to wrangle, can you blame me for being la- why are you looking at me like that?” 

The older woman dropped all pretense when she saw her sister’s shocked expression turn into a knowing grin. 

Sighing in defeat, D’avi glanced around their family huddle to make sure they weren’t being overheard by their parents. 

Their mother and father thankfully, both had their hands full. Jxo was eating while balancing Zyden on his knee- the baby focused as he chewed away on a massive piece of fruit and Sal had both L’eo and L’eya who she was fawning over and feeding out of her own meal. 

“You can’t tell our parents yet,” D’avi barely whispered. 

“D’av.” Xi’s tail couldn’t keep its cool, it sprung high in excitement. “So you’re actually-”

“Yep… pregnant. I’m pretty sure it happened the night when Bwiin went and snitched on us.” She scoffed. “Our party was not that loud.” 

Xilä remembered that night. She breastfed so she didn’t indulge in the sweetened wines that were being passed around… D’avi however had just stopped with her little ones, so she went all out, and was pretty much the life of the party. They’d gotten so rowdy, Bwiin, their mother’s nosy and grouchy friend had gone and reported them for disturbing the peace. 

Xi bit her lip. “The night you got drunk at Leati’s bacholet party? And Yalnïk had to come get you?” She butchered that word for sure- every time too.

It was a surprise that Leati even wanted to take part in the odd human custom, but Xilä realized that Ze’lu brought out a side to the woman that outshined her cold and somewhat mean disposition. 

“Yeah. I jumped my mate the moment he tossed my ass in bed... Ugh, and I’ve been so, so cautious, Xi and the one time, the one time I forget to have the damn tea. Bam. Pregnant.” She sighed. “Oh Eywa, truly I pray it’s not twins again.” 

“Are you happy about this though? I can’t tell.” 

D’avi’s eyes turned watery. “Of course I’m happy. To be honest I don’t think it’s completely registered yet, but yes. I’m so happy, Xi. And Yalnïk, ugh. The man is so damn excited. He’s already hovering and-”

“D’av! Do you want ovumshrooms?” 

“Yes, please,” she answered her mate who was currently putting out their food. “He’s the best isn’t he? I mean look at his face, and his body. I’m the luckiest woman in this entire clan, aren’t I?” 

Xi smiled, she felt the exact same way about her own husband. 

She turned towards her son when she heard his cry of frustration. Tuk had just taken something out of his hand when he tried shoving it in his mouth. Zyden seemed to be telling her off in his baby speech, and kept reaching for it, whines turning fussier despite Tuk calmly telling him it wasn’t food. 

“Zyden,” Neteyam called from beside her. 

Their baby pointed at Tuk, as if begging his daddy to make her give it back to him. 

Xilä knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He was tired and cranky and fighting sleep ever since he missed his afternoon nap. She watched him struggle to decide whether to cry or not. Luckily, Zyden was distracted by L’eo’s giggle, so he crawled off towards cousins. 

L’eya was all smiles for the baby. She poked his nose in greeting, mouth full as she chewed her food. L’eo offered him some of the buoyfish he’d been feasting on but Sal was quick to give her youngest grandchild a piece of a mashed bean pod instead. 

D’avi’s low groan pulled Xi’s attention away from their children. Her nose was wrinkled at the meat in her husband’s leaf plate. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Yalnik moved his plate around so it wasn’t too close to her and struck up a conversation with Tasam and Kiri who were on his other side. 

“How are you feeling this time around?” Xi asked. She handed her sister a piece of cider root to chew on.

“My morning sickness feels more like all day sickness and I’ve got this lingering headache that refuses to go away. I’ve drank every tea possible to help ebb my symptoms and they all refuse to work. Can I come by the healer tents tomorrow? So you can check me over, make sure everything’s okay? I’ve been putting off doing that.”

“Of course, D’av.” 

“Eywa. Mother will be mighty pleased. Just look at her now.”

Sal was in her element. The grandmother had all three little ones surrounding her. It was impossible to miss the happiness radiating off of her.  

At home, Zyden was usually clingy with Xilä and she relished in the feeling of him being attached to her, whether it was to be carried or simply wanting her attention at all times. But she wouldn’t be lying when she said she also loved seeing Sprout socialize and bond with their family- especially with his grandparents. It was something she certainly never had growing up. 

Another fifteen minutes passed before it finally happened. 

“Xiiii!” Tuk groaned dramatically as she hefted and carried a wiggly crying Zyden from under his arms. The baby was already reaching out and calling for her. “Sprout wants you. Oof! He’s getting so heavy,” she half laughed, half huffed when handing him over. 

“Hello, my love, are you being a naughty Na'vi for your aunty Tuk?” 

Zyden didn’t waste any time, he stuck his little fist right down her top and gave a frustrated grizzle. 

“Thanks for taking care of him for us, Tuk.”

The little girl beamed at Xi’s praise, and giggled when Neteyam attacked her with his own brotherly affection before she dashed off. 

Xilä quickly tugged down the front of her top and Zyden eagerly found and latched onto her nipple to nurse. She smiled when his small sticky hand rested on her breast as his eyes instantly began to droop. 

“I’m surprised he lasted this long,” Neteyam joked. He leaned over to kiss and nuzzle Zyden’s chubby cheek as he suckled, soft feeding sounds and breathy baby gulps making him and Xi smile at each other. 

L’eo appeared not too long after, food grease shining all over his face and chest. “I all done wid my food,” he told his mother proudly.

D’avi chuckled. “Good job, baby.” She pulled him closer and wiped his face and hands despite his squirming. 

When he made his escape, he approached his aunty. “I play with Zyhen, pwease, addy Xi.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie, but he’s falling asleep.” Xi caressed his cheek in apology. “You’ll get to see him tomorrow, okay?” 

Poor L’eo looked so disappointed. His pout deepened when he turned to find his sister amongst their family, only to find she was already dozing in her grandfather’s lap. 

“C’mere bud,” Yalnïk reached out and scooped him up and D’avi turned to give them both her attention. 

Xi covered herself back up when she felt her nipple slip from Zyden’s lips.

“Oh he’s out,” Neteyam laughed. He gathered their milk drunk baby in his arms and wiped away the trail of liquid that ran down his chubby cheek and into his little neck folds.

“He’s growing up too fast,” Xi sighed, leaning against her husband to peer at their son. Their baby was sprawled without a care in the world, sticky coated skin, pudgy little tummy on display, tail curled up contentedly. “I feel like I blinked and now look at him. Gosh I’m going to miss this age.”

Neteyam nodded in agreement. He kissed her forehead then whispered, “I know the feeling all too well... But you know there’s a solution for that, right?” 

“What do you mean?” she murmured, perching her chin on his bicep. 

“You could always let me put another baby in you. Then another when they grow out of that age, and another when-”

Xilä pressed her fingers to his lips and snickered at his response. “May I remind you we are surrounded by our family. Don’t start with that if you’re not able to do anything about it right now,” she teased back. 

A dangerous glint shined in his eyes, nostrils flaring at her words. 

“I’m not teasing, Xilä. I'm completely serious.” 

“Oh I know. If it were up to you you’d keep me round and pregnant for an eternity, right?” She tucked a braid behind his ear, not so accidentally brushing the tip of his pointed ear with her thumb and smiled when he gave a subtle shudder. 

“You’re playing with fire, baby,” he warned but she simply gave him an innocent look and pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“But on a serious note,” she whispered, “is it terrible that I just want to enjoy it being the three of us for now? I’m not saying no indefinitely, after Zyden I know for sure I want more, but he’s not even a year old yet, he hasn’t even taken his first steps. I want to give him as much attention and love as I can until we decide for sure to grow our family.” 

“Nothing’s wrong with that, sweetheart. I like that plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He sensed a lingering sadness from her, so to lighten the mood, he teased, “And anyway I’ll get to focus on getting my practice in while fucking you senseless.”

“Neteyam!” Her face bloomed in mortification and she glanced around to make sure he wasn’t overheard. 

There’s that smile he so loved to see. 

~

True to her word, L’eo got to see Zyden the next day. 

The boys played loudly with the many block pieces their grandfather had crafted for them. L’eya seemed to find them too rowdy for her, so she sat in her own little world with her toys until Tuk had come by and joined in with her. 

Xilä loved the sound of her son’s laugh and she loved the sounds of her home filled with children playing. 

Zyden squealed and clapped excitedly when L’eo knocked down their pile of wooden blocks and then the two went back to building it all over again- it was mostly L’eo, but Zyden sure helped by handing him each piece. 

They were so stinking cute. 

A little later on when he seemed to have grown bored, her son sought her out. He crawled after her and patted her calf, tiny palms opening and closing- asking for up. 

The second she lifted him, he cuddled her, little face snuggled into her neck and Xi soaked it all up. It was her favourite feeling in the universe. 

Neteyam looked up from his whittling and was quick to join the two. He tried burying his face on the other side of her neck, but Zyden wasn’t having it. 

Their son pushed his daddy’s face away along with a mess of protesting gibberish that had sounds like mama and dada scattered in between. 

“I want cuddles too, you can’t have her to yourself,” Neteyam quarrelled with the biggest grin on his face. 

“Ma-ma!” Zyden argued back fiercely. He leaned his head against hers- their cheeks squished together while he kept batting away his father’s affections for her.  

“Ah,” Neteyam dodged another fist. “I’ll have you know she was mine first.”

“Ma-ma!” Zyden’s both arms locked around her neck. He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek and grinned wide, and those four little teeth just about killed her. 

“Alright, alright. I’m jealous now. Come here, little man, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Neteyam stole him away and dramatically rolled them around on the floor. The baby shrieked and burst into breathy giggles as they play-fought. 

Feeling like he was missing out on the fun, L’eo ran and jumped in with a roar. “I rescue you Zyhen!” To which Neteyam pulled him in too. 

Xilä watched on and called out “oh no’s!” from the sidelines. Through her laughs she couldn’t help feel a bit emotional. Neteyam was an incredible mate, but he was an even better father. 

When he cried out asking for her to come save him, she eagerly and happily joined in until they were all a pile of giggling limbs. 

~

Pillow muffling her screams, Xilä arched as her mate licked her into another mind shattering orgasm. 

It was the middle of the night and she’d already woken on the cusp of one, finding her legs thrown over his broad shoulders with his head bobbing eagerly between her thighs, licking and sucking like a starved man… and he hadn’t moved since. 

“‘Teyam.” Shuddering as she came down from another high, she feebly tried to push his head away, hips failing to escape his clutches. She was too sensitive and he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop any time soon. 

Yet he only tightened his grips and spread her legs wider, holding her firm with a bossy growl. “One more.”

One more. One more. That’s what he’d said the last two times. 

Her voice hitched when he nipped then sucked her clit hard, silencing her protests. He stretched her with his fingers, adding one after the other until she was stuffed with all three- digits curling and fucking her just right. 

White noise clouded her ears and her eyes rolled into her head. Body seizing up as it quickly prepared to shatter again, she struggled to keep her moans at bay. Her poor knuckles were painfully white from their tight grips- one fisted in her mate’s hair, holding on for dear life while the other squeezed the pillow she was biting into. 

She could just about cry when Neteyam slowed his pace. The wicked man wanted to draw out her pleasure and no matter how much she tried to ride his fingers faster, she failed. 

He pushed her hand away when she dared to reach for her throbbing clit. Eywa. She was near delusional at this point. 

“Mine,” he’d snapped when she tried to touch again, and then as if teaching her a lesson, he simply reduced his actions even further, fingers curling deep and dragging torturously slow while he lazily lavished her clit with his tongue. 

Turned into a mewling weepy mess, she was completely at his mercy. It seemed almost never ending.

Embarrassingly loud slick sounds emitted with every motion of his fingers making her arousal drench everything- his hand, face, her thighs, their sheets- shit, she’d just changed these sheets. 

Xilä’s orgasm blindsided her, making her cry out and damn near suffocate her husband with her thighs as her entire body seized up. 

She was almost sure she’d momentarily blacked out too, because when she finally came to her senses, her deep, heavy panting had calmed and the strong ripples of pleasure and orgasmic aftershocks had ebbed away, leaving her with lingering tingles. 

Neteyam, as if he had all the time in the world, was sucking his fingers dry. It shouldn’t have been a sexy sight, but damn if it was. 

Damn him.  

Then the asshole dived back down to lick her clean. 

WACK.

“Baby!” His jaw dropped and he was staring at her in surprise. 

Xi had actually smacked him with her pillow when he had the audacity to run his tongue across her oversensitive clit. He got the message this time. He snickered and just moved along to lick away the slick that coated her inner thighs instead. 

Through their bond, tsaheylu still intact from when they went to sleep, she felt him. Like a rolling storm, he was all consuming. He was so pent up and clouded her with his intensity, she wouldn’t be surprised if he combusted just then and there. It felt good to be the cause of it, honestly. 

“You didn’t come?” Shit. She’d tried to move but her legs felt like flopping fish. 

He shook his head and got up on his knees. She was greeted by an angry leaking dick, throbbing and needy in front her face. 

Xilä licked her lips, and between her thighs pulsed at the sight of him. Sitting up, she watched him wrap a hand around himself and give a firm stroke, thumb swiping across his tip before dragging back down again. 

Although she was still a bit light headed, just like he’d done earlier, she batted his hand away to grip him herself. 

At this he let out a pleased little groan and threaded his fingers through her hair. His hips gave a sudden snap and his dick twitched when she pressed a teasing kiss to the head of it- barely even making contact. 

Xilä smirked when she felt his fingers tighten in her hair, pulling slightly at her roots. “Xilä,” he growled, sending a rippling shiver down her spine. 

“What?” she asked cunningly, “No teasing?”

Through their bond she felt his building frustration, his impatience, his need. Tail circling her wrist, he got her moving. 

So bossy.

She stroked his length and found her pace, setting a rhythm that had her mate quickly blowing out puffs of air as he seemed to be trying to keep his composure. 

Cute, she thought. With her free hand she stroked his tail- its tip still wrapped around her wrist, both hands moving in tandem. 

“Xi-”

Reading his mind, her eyes found his own, locked and dangerous and just what he needed to get closer to his peak. 

He was practically fucking her fist by now, and damn near exploded when her other hand left his tail to squeeze the base of his dick. 

Xi licked him again, tongue running up the underside of him, along a vein, then circling its head. That was it, he couldn’t control himself any longer, he came with a blinding force- a strangled endearment, falling from his lips. 

Hot seed spluttered from him, painting his stomach, Xi’s hand and her pouty lips, a drop even landed on her nose. 

A feeling of victory flooded Xilä. She loved seeing her mate come undone, loved seeing him lose control. A side of him she was the only one to ever see. 

She stroked him all the way through, till his shudders ceased and his body grew lax and so pliant she was able to pull him down, his massive frame covering her entirely. 

Their lips met in the middle for a searing, all consuming kiss. Xi could taste herself on his lips, she was sure it was the same for him. 

Breaking apart for a much needed breath of air, Neteyam nipped her bottom lip. “Sorry I woke you up.” 

Xilä laughed. “No you’re not.” 

He grinned too. “No I'm not.” 

After they basked in the afterglow for another couple minutes, they cleaned themselves up, using water and washcloths to bathe each other, mouths unable to stop stealing kisses and hands unable to stop caressing. 

Returning from checking on their son, he helped her strip their hammock and fasten a clean pelt before they both climbed in- him pulling her on top of his chest immediately. 

“Sprout was still asleep?” she asked, breaking him from his thoughts. 

“Mhmm, out like a light.” He kissed her forehead and she snuggled closer. 

~

Somewhere between sleep and wake, Xi heard a hushed whisper. 

“Mama?”

She felt a familiar weight sat on top of her and the gentle pat, pat of a little palm on her cheek.

“Mama. Mama! Mommy wake up, I have to tell you something really portent.” 

“Mmm, I’m up, I’m up.” Xilä blinked awake to the view of her son’s sweet face. Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, she pulled him into her arms and across her chest, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. “Good morning, my love.” 

Zyden struggled a bit under his mother’s smothering, trying to wiggle out. “Mama stop,” he giggled. “Guess what?” His voice was dramatically hushed despite it only being the two of them in the room. 

“What?” she asked just as quietly to match his energy.

“Daddy say I can go fishing today!” Zyden shared, tail flicking in uncontrollable excitement behind him. As if reminding himself, he made a shhhh sound and pressed a finger to his lips before continuing softer. “And- and I get to use my new bow too. You know the one mama? The big boy one granpather Jxo make me? An- an L’eo and L’eya go too but no Js’avi, cause he-he too small still and then daddy show me how to catch the fish!” 

Xilä gasped dramatically as if she didn’t already know all of this. “Oh my Eywa! That’s all so exciting, my love!”

“Yah! I- I catch you a really big fish, mama. Den you cook it.”

“I like that idea. What kind of fish should I make?” She smiled tiredly and smoothed her hand over his hair. He looked so much like his daddy. 

“Zyden!” Neteyam walked into their room, hands on his hips with a disappointed expression. “I thought I told you we’d tell your mama later. She just fell asleep, son.”

Zyden jumped at being caught, his sweet excited face turning into one of guilt. Brow puckered into a tiny frown, he pointed at his mother, then said as if it made all the sense in the world, “But mama awake now daddy. So I tell her now. Later is too far.”  

Both parents couldn’t hold their amusement. 

This kid. 

“Alright little man, come on.” Neteyam grabbed him up and hung him upside down. Tickling his tummy, he made their son break out in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. 

“Da-ha-ddyy!” 

When he set him on his feet, his father said seriously, “Go on and have your breakfast. All fishermen need to have a good meal before they set off for the day.”

“Ohhhkaaay! Bye mama!” 

Neteyam blew out a breath and made his way over to Xi. “Sorry. I swear I only turned my back away for a second and then he disappeared.” 

“It’s fine,” she assured, stretching her neck and puckering her lips, begging for a kiss as if he hadn’t kissed her only three hours ago when she’d gotten home. 

Her husband obliged and when he pulled back he said, “We missed you last night.” 

“Me too. I'll try not to make it a habit, but I was really needed for the night shift. I’m sorry it was so last minute too.” 

“Stop,” he ordered, nipping her lip in rebuke. 

“But it was date night… We made a promise to never miss a date night. I feel terrible. I promise I’ll make it up to you and-” She was about to apologize again so he silenced her with another kiss. 

“Xilä. It’s your job, baby. You were needed. It's okay. And anyway, Sprout and I had an awesome guys night.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” His voice drew to a deep whisper, “Although if you keep insisting on making it up to me, I’d really really like to fuck you later. It’s been ages.” 

Xi’s snicker was interrupted by a yawn. “You’re being dramatic. Oh that does remind me though, I need to get more Qla’ira root. I’m running out.” 

Neteyam got quiet. He perched his head on her chest, golden eyes almost pleading. “Or you could… not?” 

“Behave.” She batted him playfully and ran her fingers through his braids. 

“I’m being serious. You know Zyden’s been asking for a sibling lately.” 

“I know, but we agreed when he turned five, to start trying again, remember?”

“Technically, it’d be the same thing… If we get a head start from now, he’ll probably be five by the time-” 

“Zyden will be four in a couple months,” she laughed, cupping his face.

They heard a crash, followed by a, “Daaaddy! I had a naccident!” 

“Duty calls.” Neteyam lifted and hovered over her. “Get some sleep, alright? We’ll see you later. And we’re definitely not done talking about this.” 

“Daaadeeeee!” 

“Coming!”

Xi frowned, when he left. She didn’t know why she was even fighting this decision. She herself was ready for another child- and not just because of her mate’s pleas or their son’s little saddened face when he asked them how come he, “didn’t have a baby like L’eo and L’eya had Js’avi.”

Eywa had told her as much that she was ready as well. Her bond with the Great Mother had been growing stronger and stronger everyday. 

So what was stopping her?

~

Later that night, during a family dinner, the kids excitedly ranted about everything that happened that day- all talking over each other and fighting over the attention of the adults. 

It was a full family night. Neteyam and Xi’s home was not only filled with Jake and his family or Jxo and Sal. There was D’av, Yalnik and their three little ones. Also Yalnik’s twin and his mate along with their brood of five kids- who had also gone fishing. 

Xilä saluted the men for having to take on so many of them. She wished she got to see them at it, since apparently they’d roped along Tasam and Ze’lu to get in some practice. 

Speaking of, Tasam and Kiri had even joined their rowdy bunch tonight- newly mated after their courtship. Their story was incredibly sweet. They’d gone the traditional route and followed through the steps of the Omatikaya’s customs.  

Their love was blinding and Xi was so happy for them. Although it had been years now, she still noticed the one or two times poor Spider would shoot them concealed glances. She was rooting for her friend to find his happiness too.   

“An den I shot my bow like,” Sprout made a dramatic reenactment, “an VOOSH! My arrow went so far into the water, and- and-”

“And the same time I shot mine too!” L’eo chimed in. “And it hit a fish!”

“Oh my! You caught one, L’eo?” Sal asked, intrigued by their story. 

“No,” the boy said sadly. “The fish swam away. L’eya got one though.”

The little girl blushed when the room broke out into cheers for her. 

Xilä loved nights like these. Their family dinners were always a boisterous affair. She felt entirely whole- as if she belonged. A feeling she fought to find for years. 

She watched her son seated in the cradle of his dad’s legs. They were both talking animatedly with Mo’at whose aged face was nothing but smiles. 

Something within Xi suddenly clicked. That uncertain emotion that had been plaguing her now had an answer and a flare of guilt followed the revelation. 

Stephan had taught her an expression once, “Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

It made sense now why she herself kept putting off having another baby, because that’s what she’d been doing, wasn’t she?

Waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Waiting for things to go wrong, waiting to be told she no longer belonged. Waiting to see if she and her son would be casted out.

A weight lifted off her shoulders now that she knew what was holding her back. Stupid thoughts that would bear no fruits.

She had her whole life ahead of her. One filled with the joy and love of her and her mate, and of their children. Xi stared at her son, her son. Of course she’d wanted more of him, she Neteyam truly made ridiculously cute babies. 

Before she shook off her thoughts and returned to the present, she gave herself a mini metal pep talk- the reassurance that always seemed to help the times her mind clouded in darkness. 

She was here. 

She was safe. 

She was loved.

And she had found, her Safe Haven. 

 ~

Once again, my deepest thanks goes out to all of you who have taken this journey with me, to all of you who have read, and liked and commented.

Special thanks to all who gave suggestions and ideas. I love interacting and hearing your thoughts!

I poured my heart and soul into this story and the unbelievable feedback I've gotten- there's no greater gift.

Although there is one more part I'd like to put out- "a slice of life" to specify, I am officially marking this story as Complete!

Here's to more stories in the future ahead. 💛

Tags:@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@granddearduck@riatesullironalite@strawberri-blonde@earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop@blkmystery@neteswife@luvteyams@isnt-itstrange@erenjaegerwifee@faatxma@ivysully@bakugouswaif@pinkpantheris @mntx666@ironcaptainnataliabarnes

[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (ch 1) "transmission"

gif by me, moodboard by the lovely @sp00kymulderr ♥

pairing: frankie morales/nb!oc (they/them) rating: T (for now) chapter warnings: discussions of sexuality/gender (frankie doesn't understand some things and may use language that would be harmful, but it's not intentional), limited knowledge of the military, goth stereotypes abound, mentions of drug addiction/recovery, swearing, cute shit word count: 2.7k dividers by @saradika

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series summary: frankie morales thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

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a/n - i can't thank y'all enough for giving my fic a chance! i'm really nervous about posting it since i haven't properly written anything in years, but i've had some lovely cheerleaders (@scenaaario - who is also my lovely beta, i want to kiss you on the mouth for making this fic sound like i wanted it to ♥♥ - @undercoverpena @mrsquill and @kedsandtubesocks i love you guys ♥) along the way that gave me the motivation to post this little story. comments and reblogs are super appreciated! i'd love to hear what y'all think <3

In 1994, the U.S. adopted “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” as the official federal policy on military service by lesbian, gay and bisexual individuals. It was officially repealed in 2011. Seventeen years. For seventeen years, LGBTQ folks, Frankie included, had to hide. At least, he felt he needed to.

He knew he was bisexual when he and his childhood best friend Mateo were in their sophomore year of high school. Frankie and all the other boys started to hit puberty the year before and things were changing: facial hair was slowly growing, voices were dropping.  Mateo started to develop a little faster than Frankie did. Frankie really liked how Mateo was developing. It was a little weird, because they’d been best friends since they were still wearing underoos, but Frankie started to feel things whenever he hung out with Mateo. Things he normally only felt whenever Alana in third period flipped her hair over her shoulder, or whenever Charlotte in fifth period stretched before she started writing and her sweater pulled over her chest a little too much.

Frankie didn’t know what to do with this information or these feelings. He didn’t have a word for any of it, so he just never said anything. He had a couple girlfriends throughout high school, and to anyone who cared to think on it, would see that Frankie was like any other straight, high school boy.

In 1994, Francisco Morales joined the military. He was nineteen. It was never his plan growing up to join, but his dad always wanted him to. When he didn’t have his own plan after high school, he figured it was a safe bet since he had family in the service. While there, he worked his way up in the ranks and eventually met his brothers: Santiago, Benny, Will, and Tom. They would die for each other, had signed up to do so, in fact. He’d grown closest to Santiago, and it was the first time since he was 15 that he got those feelings again. He pushed them to the side, though, because that’s when she came into his life. He didn’t need those feelings getting in the way.

Frankie’s bisexuality really only came into his life a couple of times. His first girlfriend in the military, Layla, was also bisexual and that’s when he learned what the word was and that it also applied to him. She only ever told him since Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was in full swing. Of course he kept her secret, because she also kept his.

The only one of his group of brothers that didn’t know about his sexuality was Tom. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him, and the others agreed it was best to keep it quiet. Santiago was the first one to know, then Will, and finally Benny. Ben was Ben about it when he found out. He immediately hugged Frankie and excitedly suggested they go to a gay bar instead of their usual hang out. It made Frankie laugh and Will smacked Ben on the back of the head. (They did end up going to a couple of gay bars from time to time. Frankie only went home with a guy once and the guys gave him a lot of shit for it, asking for details. Santiago gave him a smile and patted him on the back and said, “I’m glad you’re finally here, hermano.”)

Frankie had one man he’d consider a “boyfriend” in his life. After he left the military and after DADT was repealed, he went on a bit of a binge. He started hooking up with people more often, despite his introverted nature. He was always careful, safe, and eventually kept to one man for a couple years, before an especially messy breakup.  They were both pilots in the military, but were based in different states; Frankie in Florida, and Jackson in Kentucky. They bonded quickly after meeting at a nightclub in Nashville. Neither one of them remembers why they were there, but they made it a point to see each other frequently, each of them taking turns flying out to see the other.

The breakup happened after Jackson found Frankie’s stash for the last time. The military affected everyone differently. For Frankie, his coke addiction is what got him through the sleepless nights. Jackson had found Frankie one too many times leaned over the back of a toilet and snorting god knows what. Jackson had his own problems with drugs and felt that Frankie ignored them in search of his next fix. Addiction had completely taken over Frankie’s life for the better part of five years. Frankie hated Jackson for leaving him when he most needed him, and lashed out, accusing Jackson of only ever wanting to fuck. That broke Jackson, as he thought about how deeply he loved Frankie. Gay marriage was legalized a year later, and had things panned out differently, they might still be together. He doesn’t blame Jackson for leaving anymore.

Frankie’s daughter, Marisol, changed everything. She was the love of his life, and he would do anything for her. After going back to his days of sleeping around after Jackson left, he met Maya. He kept telling her that he would get clean and go to therapy while she was pregnant, but not until he held his little Marisol in his arms for the first time did he commit to both. He and Maya never planned on being together officially, and decided co-parenting would be their best option. 

He’d been clean and sober for two years by the time Santi told him about the Colombia job. He hadn’t flown, or been allowed to in that time, and was pretty content to never do so again. Every time he got in the pilot’s seat, it would take him to terrible places. But Santi was his best friend, so he took the job. He relapsed when he got home, after Tom. He never blamed Santi for it. He gave Frankie a choice, and where he could’ve said no, he didn’t.

Which brings him to where he is now, two years after Colombia. He’d crossed the street and stood in line for the entrance. He hadn’t been to this nightclub in a while. He looked up at the sign for the club, and raised an eyebrow. The Night Owl. That… isn’t what it was called last time. Was it sold? Apparently, it had recently undergone a rebranding, with new owners, and a slightly… different clientele. 

The best way he could describe it now was that it was a goth club. Frankie had never personally been to this sort of club, not really being a fan of the music or subculture, but never had a negative opinion either. He stuck out like a sore thumb when he entered, the bouncer giving him a once over and chuckling, but letting him in anyway. 

He made his way over to the bar and had a seat, taking in his surroundings and started people watching. He planned on going out tonight, and possibly go home with someone. A club is a club, so he decided to stick around and see what all the fuss was about. 

The walls shook with the heavy bass and beats of the music. It wasn’t like anything he’d heard before. His nostrils filled with the scent of clove cigarettes and hairspray. Everywhere he looked, someone completely decked out in teased hair and black clothing caught his attention. He smiled softly at all the variations in people’s style, wondering how long it took for all of them to get ready in the morning.

The bartender, a large man with heavy eye makeup and a lot of chains and spikes, came up to him and smirked. He felt a presence behind him and when Frankie finally faced forward again, he startled a little, not expecting such an imposing figure to be giving him a staredown.

“What’ll you be havin’, stripes?”

“Stripes?”

The bartender, who had a patch sewed onto his denim vest that read “Viper”, rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely to Frankie’s whole self. “You mean to tell me you’re not military?”

Frankie blinked a couple times and huffed a laugh. “Ex-military, yeah. Is that… okay?”

Viper gave him a long look, eyes slightly narrowed, and pointed to one of the many tattoos on his arm, up high on his shoulder. It was an old one, a little faded, but Frankie recognized it as the stripes given to Sergeant Majors.  “I left after this. Got injured,” he said.

“Sorry to hear that.”

Viper shrugged and reached under the bar, cleaning a glass. “I’m not. So what’re you havin’?”

Frankie thought about it for a second. “I’ll probably regret this, but surprise me.”

An amused look crossed Viper’s features, but he nodded and started mixing a drink for him. Frankie noticed all the ingredients used; lager beer, hard cider, and some kind of syrup. He raised a brow and picked up the glass as Viper slid it across the bar for him. Frankie gave him a look as if to say, ‘Is this safe?’ despite having just watched Viper make it. The bartender chuckled and just gestured for him to give it a try.

Frankie took a deep breath and gulped down a drink. A little foam was stuck to his mustache when he lowered the glass from his face. “Not bad. What is it?” Frankie asked.

“Snakebite. Kind of a staple around here,” Viper hummed, cleaning a different glass.

Frankie chuckled at the name. Of course that’s what it was called. 

Viper was pulled away when a pretty girl with big, teased hair and dark makeup came up to the bar. Frankie took the opportunity to look around the place again.

The music was best described as “dark” and “broody”, unsurprisingly, with slow tempos and even lower vocals. Everyone on the dancefloor was slowly swaying back and forth and, once in a while, would move their arms in ethereal shapes. 

Frankie remembered seeing one of the younger teachers at Marisol’s daycare wearing a t-shirt with a band logo that looked like a bundle of sticks. He tried figuring out what it said once, but was too afraid to ask, so he still doesn’t know. He doesn’t think she’d be at this kind of club.

“You’re new. Bit like a zoo your first time here, I bet.”

Frankie startled, putting his hand over his heart and turned to look at who was talking. Someone had sat next to him and was grinning, taking a sip from their own drink; something dark red and a little cloudy. He blinked a couple times and took in their features; big green eyes rimmed with dark lines, two different nose piercings, and black lipstick. Their hair was long and straight, dark, and with the right side in front of their ear shaved completely. He couldn’t quite figure out if who he was talking to was male or female, the androgyny of their look very clear.

“Uhh, hello?” They waved their hand, full of rings and black nail polish, in front of his face and chuckled quietly. “Oh! Maybe–” They cut themselves off and started making a bunch of symbols and shapes with their fingers and hands.

Frankie blinked and started laughing softly. “I’m not deaf! Sorry,” he grinned. “You just startled me, that's all.”

“Oh!” The stranger laughed, too, putting a hand on his right knee in a friendly gesture. He looked down at the hand and smiled, his heart skipping a beat. Even if he didn’t know very much about them, he couldn’t deny it; they were very pretty.

He removed his cap and ran his fingers through the unruly curls for a second before putting the hat back on. “Sorry,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, it’s my first time here. I didn’t realize the club had changed owners.”

“It did?” They asked, tilting their head to the left slightly. 

“Yeah, it was a– Uh, last time I was here, it was a… different kind of club,” Frankie mumbled. 

The stranger’s eyes twinkled mischievously, the smirk still present on their lips. “What kind of club? Are you secretly into some really heavy BDSM type stuff?” They wiggled their eyebrows.

Frankie had started taking a drink of his Snakebite again and nearly choked on it at the stranger’s teasing. He coughed a couple times, a wide grin on his face. “No! Nothing like that,” he chuckled.

The stranger snapped their ring-clad fingers like they were hoping he’d say otherwise and slumped their shoulders in disappointment. “Damn…”

Frankie’s cheeks warmed at the insinuation, but laughed, convinced they were just joking with him. He cleared his throat and continued, “Y-Yeah, uh, I wasn’t expecting this kind of… group, when I came by. Although, the name of the place probably should’ve warned me.”

“What kind of group?” The stranger grinned, watching his handsome features change from thoughtful to concerned.

Frankie panicked, worried he’d somehow offended them, and cleared his throat again. “N-Not that there’s anything wrong with– Um! I don’t, actually… know,” he tapered off, looking down as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

The stranger snorted and waved him off. “I’m fucking with you,” they laughed. “I know what you mean. When I heard a new club opened up closer to my apartment, I got pretty excited. No more hour-long drives to the nearest one, y’know?”

Frankie nodded, their low, smooth voice captivating him the longer they spoke.

“Oh! Meant to say this before, but my name’s River,” they smiled and held their hand out to him to shake.

“Frankie,” he answered, holding his own hand out to return the gesture. But River beat him to it, and gripped his long, thick fingers in their own hand and kissed the back of his softly.

Frankie blushed like mad, eyes widening slightly. No one had ever kissed his hand before. He kept his eyes downcast, his hand still securely in River’s grasp.

River tilted their head, brows furrowed in concern before letting go of his hand. “Sorry, was that–?”

“No! N-No, um…” Frankie smiled shyly, tugging at a loose curl behind his ear. “It was fine– Nice, actually.”

River grinned as if they had clocked him immediately. “Well, Frankie, it was very nice meeting you. Will I see you here again?” They asked, looking him up and down.

Frankie found himself nodding before he could say or do anything else. “Y-Yeah, absolutely. Um, how–?”

“My song just came on, and I simply must dance to it. Later,” River winked, stood, and leaned over to kiss Frankie’s cheek as they slipped something into the front pocket of his flannel shirt.

River was gone before Frankie could ask anything else, his eyes following after them as they reached the dancefloor. He watched them dance for a few minutes before he was brought out of it by someone clearing their throat behind him. He spun around and saw Viper, the bartender, leaning toward him and giving him a look.

“You gonna pay for these drinks?” He grumbled, motioning toward Frankie’s Snakebite and whatever River was drinking.

He followed Viper’s tattooed finger and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his wallet out and putting a couple bills on the bar. Viper nodded in thanks and Frankie took that as his cue to leave.

As he stood, he looked toward the dancefloor again in the hopes of seeing River one last time. When he didn’t, he tried to shake himself off and made his way toward the entrance. The bouncer gave him a look and Frankie just shrugged as he exited the club. The cool night air hit his still-warm cheeks, making him feel like he came back to reality. 

“Oh, right,” he mumbled to himself and reached into his front pocket and pulled out a little scrap of paper. A phone number with two cute little devil horns drawn on either side and a little, ‘text me?’ written down beneath it.

Frankie smiled to himself and rubbed the ink on the paper with his thumb.

[theredpharaoah]

Dare I say we give Giles too much. I think him not giving Buffy the Slayer Handbook was dumb and ignorant. The Handbook didn’t just have rules for the Slayer, it was the definitive guide to magic on Earth and its history. The fact they never pull it out again after the first episode irritates the hell out of me. How helpful would that have been for all the Scoobies - Willow could’ve picked up magic way quicker. It probably would’ve helped Buffy hone the psychic abilities she never really developed. Remember how she’s supposed to be able to sense vampires and stuff? And in the comics, Erin had access to all the Slayer memories(I’m pretty sure) because he inherited the psychic side of the lineage. Again, that could’ve been cool to see and very helpful.

I also feel - as stated many times before - Giles completely failed with Faith. People talk about how Buffy built up that rapport with Giles and her friends - that she made their relationship the way it was. But that’s irrelevant because the relationship was present and stable at the time of Faith’s arrival. We see when Kendra comes that even the Giles is a bit taken-aback to her very by-the-book approach to being a slayer. So when Faith came - who is extremely similar to Buffy - how did Giles not immediately feel that paternal instinct he has with Buffy, Willow, and Xander? That sort of instinct comes easier the more people you consider to be your “children”. I mean it’s crazy that The Mayor had to take Faith out of that nasty ass motel. A literal demon had to go “that’s no place for a young girl”. And sure he had a motive but the fact that none of the decent people had already said it? And the way they handled the accidental kill of the evil assistant to the mayor? First of all, the Slayer killing humans is frowned upon but it’s not a hard and fast rule. I’m not saying they should just go around killing ppl, but I’m not going to feel bad that Faith killed a man who was working for demons anyway. And compare that to how they reacted to Buffy Killing Ted(when they thought she had); completely different reaction. And Buffy had exhibited far more animosity towards Ted, than Faith had for some random who got in the way.

Giles as an adult - and something of an educator - should’ve immediately clocked that Faith did not have the same upbringing as the other 3, that the Scoobies were falling into their childish instincts and alienating her, and he should’ve gone out of his way to include her and impress upon the others why they needed to accept her. Especially after they found out about her Watcher’s death and saw how terrified she was of Kakistos. Why did Buffy and Angel have to be the ones to find out Faith needed to be fought for - that she needed help to deal with her trauma. I was really disappointed in Buffy as she’d lost her watcher and relocated just like Faith. She also understood how lonely and dangerous it is being a Slayer. But I can’t blame Buffy all that much cuz she’s a kid. And Giles willing all of his things to Faith in the comics and only the Slayer Handbook to Buffy did not move me. Giles considered Buffy to be the “One True Slayer” was not a gag. Everyone considers her to be that, giving her this handbook after she’s been a Slayer for damn near a decade is insulting. She don’t need that shit no more - she had to learn it all on the job. And giving Faith his money so she could retire from violence? Faith’s violence wasn’t the issue, her relationship to it was. The whole thing read as very melodramatic and self-absorbed.

Giles was very childish and we see it all throughout the series, but especially in the later seasons. I mean when you actually think about it, he’s so ridiculous. Buffy was 22 at the end of the series. 22 and she has to take care of a teen sister, pay mortgage, bills, etc. Could you imagine that amount of responsibility at that age? Our society still considers 22 year olds to be pseudo-teens for the most part. And he left cuz he “didn’t want her to become dependent on him”…what type of shit? She was already dependent on you - you’d been her Father Figure since she was 16 and throughout a boatload of trauma. You pretty much raised the girl. And you know that - that’s why you had a dream of taking child Buffy to the fair. He’s human, but that doesn’t excuse the level of cowardice he exhibited for me.

Also, I think instead of killing Jenny in Passions, they should’ve had her live. I think she would’ve been great as Faith’s mentor. And while she didn’t take the Scoobies to task for blaming her about Angel and alienating her, I definitely think she would’ve gotten them together for their treatment of Faith. I also think she would’ve pointed out Giles’ differential treatments of the two.

[beardedjoel]

closer | part twenty

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au.

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3  

chapter summary: joel wants to repair things, and you aren't so sure if you want them to be fixed. if you've learned anything about joel, though, it's that he's very persistent. 11.7k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), more angst!, mutual masturbation, phone sex, joel is out here TRYING his hardest a/n: this chapter is super long, i'm sorry if it feels a bit of a mess i just had a lot of ground to cover, and if i'm honest i was really nervous about this after the last chapter hoping i could live up to everyone's expectations and desires for this next part! i really hope everyone enjoys it, there's a lot to unpack here!!! as always comments and reblogs are so appreciated, i love you all!

Everything fuckin’ hurts. 

Those are Joel’s first thoughts as he wakes the next morning. Emotionally, physically, all of it. Sleeping on a couch at his age wasn’t doing him any favors, so he tries to stretch out all the kinks and soreness riddling his body now when he sits up.

He glances at your bedroom door, still tightly shut from last night. and wonders if you’ll ever emerge this morning, or just try to wait it out until he leaves. 

Joel lost count of the amount of times throughout this mostly sleepless night on your couch that he did the same thing, glancing at your door and itching to get up and go open it. Just wanting to comfort you, to talk to you, to say everything that was on his mind. He doesn’t even know if it would even be fair to you to try after what he’d done last night, not even including the shit he pulled this past month. In fact, he feels like he doesn't know much of anything these days.

This last month had been the absolute worst of his entire life. Worse than when Betty had left him, worse than when they’d had their relationship ending fight and she told Joel he ruined her life in as many words. He had nobody to blame but himself in this situation, where with Betty at the least she’d had her own hangups that led to where they’d fallen apart.

He thought he’d learned from it, from the horrible way things had ended with Betty. He’d learned to encourage any girl he’d be lucky enough to have in the future more, to never let them think they could be held back by someone like him. He’d thought he was doing that for Betty before, but by not wanting to leave Austin, not leave everything he’d built there, he was suddenly her villain after years of resentment, and it hurt even now to think of someone he’d cared for so deeply looking at him that way.

Betty had shattered him, through and through, he knew that, and now you were paying the price. Now you were looking at him that way, and it was worse than he could have imagined.

Joel runs a hand over his tired face, ruminating on everything that had led him right here, to sleeping on your couch instead of happily in your bed with his arms wrapped around you. He didn’t know if what he was doing was the right thing, it sure as hell hadn’t felt like it. But how could he let you resent him someday, just like the woman he’d thought loved him before had? He feared that now everything he’d worked to avoid was coming true anyways, that there wasn’t a chance in hell you could ever forgive him.

He felt like he should stand by what he did, breaking things off with you. That was what he should do - for your sake, and for his. Things still hurt now, but if you were ever going to be able to live the life you deserved, he still wondered if he needed to stay out of it for that to happen.

Maybe. Maybe not. He went back and forth countless times a day ever since he’d left your apartment that night before he was too exhausted to think anymore, then crashing into bed and finding that sleep didn’t come easily to him most nights.

He had to do something, some kind of olive branch. It felt pathetic, but all he could think of right now was to bring you coffee and a breakfast sandwich, the one thing you’d said always cured yours and Sofia’s hangovers. If last night was any indication, you seemed like you’d be needing it. Joel quietly creeps over to the side table next to your front door, where you’d haphazardly tossed your purse last night and digs through it, grabbing the keys to your apartment before heading out.

Google told him there was a place relatively close by, only three blocks away that had both of the things he was looking for. With a black coffee for him, an iced vanilla latte and breakfast sandwich for you, he headed back, practically sweating with how much he was rushing to get back before you woke up. If you woke up and saw him gone… his heart sank at the extra pain that might cause you to think he’d just left this morning without even bothering to talk at all.

Joel breathed a sigh of relief when your bedroom door was still closed as he passed into the entryway of your apartment. He set down your food and drink on the counter and perched himself on the edge of the couch, drinking his coffee and tapping his foot nervously. He’d decided somewhere between his walk to the coffee shop and back that it was time to lay it all out there for you, to try to fix some of this damage.

He was ready to do whatever it took to start fixing things, if it was possible. That horrible night, anger and fear had clouded his thoughts to a point where he wasn’t thinking straight, he just knew he needed to run away from what he feared. It turned out to be the biggest mistake he could have made, and he was miserable.

Even if you wouldn’t have him back (he expected that much), he could say his piece and offer apologies for all the stupid shit he’s done. When he hadn’t seen you it was easier, of course, to try and stay away, not say all the apologies he knew were necessary. But now that he was faced with you in the cold light of day, he knew that it was the right thing to do. 

When shortly after, he thinks he hears noise from inside your bedroom, he stiffens and tries to steel himself for whatever uncomfortable conversation could be coming. You crack your bedroom door open slightly, just enough to peer out and see that Joel is still here, sitting on your couch with a coffee in hand, a cup you recognize from your favorite nearby shop. 

Joel’s heart thumps hard in his chest as you emerge, having changed into a pair of pajamas and cleaned your face of all your smudged makeup, looking tense. You stand near your doorway, leaning back against the wall, folding your arms across your chest.

He clears his throat, willing his voice to come to him. “Mornin’,” he croaks out, voice still a bit hoarse from the early morning and not having spoken much for the day yet.

You purse your lips slightly, beginning to fiddle with your hands in front of you anxiously and looking in his direction, but not quite at him. 

“Er, good morning,” you say, your bottom lip going into your mouth as you chew relentlessly at it. “Look-” you start, but Joel starts speaking at the same time, creating an awkward interruption between the two of you.

“Got you some breakfast,” he says, gesturing to the counter. You turn around to see the latte and small bag housing the breakfast sandwich and your lips twitch slightly, but you will yourself not to smile. “Breakfast sandwich, the hangover cure, right?” Joel adds, and you huff a small chuckle before grabbing everything off the counter and sitting down at the kitchen table. This way, you can face Joel but not have to invade his personal space too much.

“Thanks,” you reply, digging into the treats Joel had brought you. “Really needed this. I drank too much last night… I don’t think I can do that again.”

Joel passes you a polite smile and understanding nod, his hands now in his lap, balled into fists. “Y-you were gonna say somethin’, but would it be okay if I speak first? You were right last night, we should talk,” he asks, and you perk up a little, peering at him skeptically.

“Oh, sure… okay,” you say, bracing yourself for whatever you might hear next. Some chastisement, some extra damage to inflict on you, most likely. Joel seems much calmer than last night, though, and it gives you hope this could be a much better conversation.

“I… I’m sorry. Last night was a mess,” Joel breathes. “Shouldn’t have come just to yell at ya. I wasn’t gonna, was gonna leave you be, figured it was just drunk calls or somethin’, to be honest. My worries got the best of me, thought maybe you were in trouble, like with Vince… I should've just called ya back like a normal person and avoided this whole fuckin’ mess. Should’ve… done a lot of things,” Joel breathes out, a pained expression on his face before he continues. “Like called you or messaged you in the last month for starters. I’m real sorry about that, hope you know. I know that just sayin’ it once doesn’t mean much, but I had to.” Joel’s eyes cast down about halfway through his speech, flicking back and forth from the floor to your face, trying to read any kind of reaction or emotion from you.

You sit, stunned with a piece of the breakfast sandwich still in your mouth. You have to force yourself to chew, bringing yourself back to reality as you process what Joel is saying.

“Thank… you for saying all of that,” you start, taking a long pause to try to get your head on straight. It’s too fucking early to be having this talk, but you know you need to power through it. “I know I should have just left it alone too, but you can’t blame me for wanting some kind of answers or closure from you, right? After what you did? Why in my drunkest state I resorted to spamming you like a crazy person?”

“I know… I know…” Joel says quietly before putting his head in his hands for a moment. “Not crazy at all, don’t say that. I understand, and I -” he takes a deep breath, having a hard time putting his feelings into words.

“I should have called. The next day. That night, even. You don’t know how close I was, wasn’t like I walked out and felt all peachy, forgettin’ you existed or somethin’.” Joel thinks quickly about how he’d lose count if he thought about all the times he almost called you, had a message ready to type just to not know what to say in the end. 

You stiffen at his irritation, and Joel’s eyes flash to you, noticing the change. “Sorry… shouldn’t be gettin’ so defensive like that. I’m just angry with myself,” he says.

Your brows pinch together a bit, having not considered that as a possibility for some reason. “You are?” you ask as soon as the thought pops into your mind.

Joel’s eyes widen, not believing that you’d believe he couldn’t possibly be angry with himself in this situation. “‘Course I am, sweetheart,” he says softly, before catching himself. “Sorry, again, Jesus, I’m screwin’ this up, callin’ you those names and stuff. I’ll stop that, promise,” Joel rambles on, swallowing hard before he continues. “I’m very angry with myself. Least I could’ve done was given you a call, but I was feelin’ hurt, and I let that stop me from thinkin’ about how you were feelin’.”

“Yeah, you did, Joel,” you say plainly, taking another bite of your breakfast and trying to keep your face neutral. The last thing you want right now is to show him how badly it broke you, how badly it’s still breaking you right this minute to have him sitting in your apartment after a month of nothing from him. You want him to see that you won’t just immediately fold under him again, that you want to have time if you two could possibly repair any of this. You’re suddenly glad that last night didn’t go the way your drunk self had wanted it to - you’d have slept with Joel in a heartbeat then and would have been in a much worse position this morning.

“Just wanna own that, y’know. That I fucked up there,” he says with a nod, more to himself. “And lots of places.”

“Well. Thank you for doing that.” You know your tone is cold, but you’re afraid to not put some distance between the two of you right now, afraid of what thoughts could come spilling out from your mind if you let your guard down. His face is scrunched up in an emotion you hardly ever got a chance to see on him, his eyes bloodshot and beard overgrown. Now that you see him in the light of day, he kind of looks like hell, if you’re honest. You feel a twinge of pity, and while you’re not usually one to ignore that kind of thing towards someone you care about, for your own self preservation right now, you do.

“Not to assume, or anything, but I’m sure it hurt you. Just ‘cause I was hurt, shouldn’t have hurt you too. I wanted so bad to avoid all my shit from the past, and yet I’m in the same situation… seein’ the way you’re lookin’ at me right now.” He breathes out a long sigh, full of hurt that he hurt you. “I’m real proud of you for everything with the job, and I regret not bein’ able to say that.”

Well shit, now you are going to pity him a little bit. Just a little, you think, that’s all.

You aren’t able to contain the small, reserved smile that pulls at your lips when you hear his words. You’d never doubted that Joel could be sorry for the way things had ended up, but hearing him say so much, be so vulnerable with you, it’s a big start. He’d completely shut down that night in a way you’d never seen him do before, and slowly but surely, he’s opening back up for you.

“Thanks, Joel. I really… appreciate that. I know this has been… well, fucking awful. I know I have my part in this too, but I hope you understand now that my decisions were mine, and not yours to make. I was trying… to keep us together because that’s what I wanted.”

Joel nods quickly, his head bobbing, shaking his already sleep riddled hair everywhere. “‘Course,” he says. “I was afraid if I didn’t do what I did that it would end up bad, and well, it did anyway. Don’t know what I was thinkin’... truth is I wasn’t… thinkin’, that is.” He lets out an exasperated chuckle, one where you know the situation isn’t funny at all, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

“I know, Joel. I get it, what you were trying to do…” you say absentmindedly, eyes drifting off to a spot just past him. You’re quickly running out of steam, feeling the emotions starting to overwhelm you, taking you back to that night when he’d left you. “It just really fucking hurts, the way you went about it,” you add on, quieter now.

“I know, honey, I know. Can’t believe how much I’ve hurt you, how bad I messed up.” Joel puts his head in his hands again, leaving it there and shaking it into his palms. You heard his voice waver on the last words, and you know he’s embarrassed, trying to hide himself from you. Joel thinks over and over that he doesn’t deserve any of it, any of your time, any of the comfort you might give him if you see he’s emotional.

You stand up, the chair scraping across the hardwood floor, piquing Joel’s attention but he still doesn’t lift his head from where it sits, hanging low into his hands. You take a deep breath, worrying you’re about to make the wrong decision, but fuck it, you can’t stop caring about this man no matter how hard you try.

“Joel…” you say quietly, approaching where he sits on the couch. He lifts his head slightly and shakes it.

“N-no, shouldn’t be comforting me,” he blurts out. You ignore him and sit stiffly next to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re allowed this, Joel. I am really fucking mad at you, but you still deserve that. Let’s hug, okay? I think we both need it.“ you swallow, feeling unsure of yourself, but proud that you’re trying to set some boundaries. “After that, I think you should head home,” you add on, feeling almost pained to say it, wishing you two could sit here for hours and rebuild what you had, but you know it’ll take more than that. Most of all, it’ll just take what time does best - healing.

Joel lifts his head and turns it to the left, looking into your eyes. His are rimmed red and bloodshot as ever, all the anger you’d seen in them last night completely faded into a hopeless despondency. Despite how completely wretched with regret he looks right now, you can’t help but continue to notice how damn handsome he is. You give him a weak smile that he returns immediately. You stand, urging him up to stand with you by tugging at his hand, and he wraps his arms around you tightly, the urgency in his touch scaring you for a moment that you could fall into its trap. You’re stronger than that right now, you know. You pull yourself close and return the hug, getting a quick breath in of his scent and essence, trying to burn it into your memory before you even realize you’re doing it.

You don’t know where things will go from here, now that it feels like so much is out on the table. Joel has shown you a side you’d never expected to see after he decided to end things that night, and it’s pulled at your heartstrings more than you’d care to admit. As much as you want to just curl yourself into his arms and pick up where you left off, you want to give yourself more respect than that, feeling like you can finally be a bit stronger than the spell Joel has always had you in.

Maybe this is what he always wanted from you - this full independence from him, not taking him too seriously in your life. But why does it make you so sad now that you’ve gotten it?

“Thank you,” Joel murmurs before pulling away. “For listenin’ and not screamin’ me out the door.”

“You know I’m not the screaming type,” you quip back, before realizing the possible double entendre in the words. “I mean… when talking… when… shit, sorry,” you say, trying to laugh it off, and Joel lets out a warm chuckle, the first real laughter shared between the two of you in ages. It feels so fucking good, so natural, but you push the thought away as quickly as it came into your mind.

“I got you, don’t worry,” Joel says reassuringly, squeezing your shoulder before stepping further away, making his way to your front door.

He turns back towards you, and you can see him bite his lip, hesitation written all over his face. “Don’t expect you to forgive me or anythin’ right now, but could I - could I call you sometime, maybe? Or text? Or somethin’?” he asks, and you can’t mask the way your eyebrows lift in surprise, and the way you almost immediately answer “yes”, to him. The desperation in his voice and sad brown eyes pulled at you, your heart tightening inside your chest.

“I don’t know, actually. Can I… think about it? Maybe text you first if I decide it’s okay?” you say, trying to appear more confident than you actually feel right now. You can feel yourself folding quickly, and need Joel to get out of your apartment now, or five minutes ago, if you’re being honest with yourself.

Joel nods, turning his lips down in an expression of consideration. “Sure, ‘course, whatever you need,” he replies, and you breathe a sigh of relief that he’s willing to agree to it.

“Thanks,” you say, giving him another tight smile. He dips his head respectfully before reaching for the doorknob.

“See ya,” he says, and you echo his words back, staring at the door with wide eyes long after he’s left. This is too remnant of the night he’d walked out and left you staring at the door, so you force yourself to move and be productive for the day, getting some cleaning done and rewarding yourself with a hot shower and plenty of couch time afterwards.

You have so much to think about now, and while you feel relieved that Joel had been able to start clearing the air between you two today, you feel uneasy, completely at war with yourself. The part of you that wanted him back in your life, wanted to make up for every bit of lost time was fighting hard with the part of you that felt too hurt to even consider letting him near you again. 

Ultimately, you knew which side you’d choose, and half hated yourself for it.

It didn’t take long for you to decide to take Joel up on his offer of rebuilding contact between the two of you. Later that week, after spending sleepless nights toiling over it, you pull out your phone and type out a message to him while you sit on your couch, shamelessly eating cheese right off the block one evening after work. A situation like this called for comfort food in any way you could get it.

You: Hey there… I think maybe I wouldn’t mind a text here and there from you if that’s still what you want.

There it was: simple, not too eager, only inviting in sporadic contact from him, instead of a full blown tidal wave of Joel. Not even ten minutes later your phone buzzes next to you, and you find your heart jump in your throat, and curse yourself quickly for such an emotional reaction. You’re supposed to be playing it cool, here.

Joel: Thank you, promise I won’t spam you. Hope you’re havin a good night.

Joel’s message didn’t invite anything in return, it was simple and sweet, just a well wish for you. But you could help the itching feeling in your fingers as they hovered over the screen, wondering if you should say anything back. You feel a small swell of pride when you decide against it, half tempted to tell Joel your pathetic little eating situation just to get a laugh out of him. You’re not supposed to care if he thinks you’re funny anymore, anyways.

Over the coming days and weeks, you go about your life, feeling like the tiny door in your heart cracks open a little more each time Joel texts you. They’re usually just sweet little messages - nice wishes for your day or a thinking of you. Each time, you craft a delicate response to keep that stupid heart door from opening wide and letting you get sucked in again. 

Joel: Hope work has been good today, know it can stress you out.

You: Thank you 😊 you too!

—

Joel: Saw your parents today, can’t believe they’re still being nice to me. They seem to be doing well and Benny seemed happy to see me too

You: They’re too nice for their own good! Benny loves you though, he was so obsessed when he stayed over your place

—

Joel: Don’t forget to eat today… I remember you said there was lots of deadlines this week and you tend to do that sometimes

You: Ugh you got me on that one. Totally was about to skip lunch… promise I’ll eat something.

Joel: You better

—

Joel: Hope you had a great week, you deserve it 🙂

You: Thank you Joel. Hope you’ve been doing okay too

Joel: I’m tryin that’s for sure

The messages carried on much like that, one every few days, until they didn’t. You both started to get a bit more detail into messages after almost two weeks of just those small interactions between you two, and you found you didn’t really mind much at all. 

Joel: Started a new season of Lover’s Paradise and I still don’t understand half of what these folks are saying or doing. Need a young people translator or something. This mean I’m really getting old?

You bite back a laugh at his message, kind of loving that he’s still watching Lover’s Paradise even if you two aren’t together.

You: Tell me which episode and I’ll help you out old man

Joel: Ouch… hitting me where it hurts. 

You: Just can’t help myself 😂 you need my young eyes and ears on this one

Joel: Damn right I do. Alright, season eight. No rush, but also I’m totally lost so

You spend the next hour watching the first episode of season eight, not having seen this season before. You wished that Joel was right here next to you so you two could get back into the familiar banter you’d find yourselves in when watching the show. Instead, you text him a rundown of the major drama and encounters you figured he’d have asked you about if he were right here next to you. When you finish, you find that you haven’t stopped smiling nearly the entire hour you two live-texted the show together, and force yourself to frown.

You’re supposed to still be mad at him, right?

—

Joel: Weird question… but do you have my blue Astros shirt?

You: It’s possible… 

You: Oh yeah I just found it actually, I think you left it here.

Joel: Or a known shirt thief stole it like some of my other clothes

You: Who are you calling a thief? Couldn’t be me?

Joel: Judging by the amount of my shirts that mysteriously went missing after I met you, I’d say the finger points itself

You: You have no proof!

You laugh again, and realize that shit, you think you just might be flirting with Joel again. You’re not sure if you should reign it in or let things just flow naturally the way they have been. You’re being reminded how much you love talking to him and how sweet and funny he can be with you. When he responds with a photo of you, sleeping in his bed, sprawled out with the covers kicked off, clad only in one of his Miller Contracting t-shirts and panties, you gasp.

Joel: Got some proof right here.

Joel: Couldn’t bring myself to delete it, I can if you want.

You: Literally gasped… can’t believe you took that.

You: And no, you keep it. But now I’m wondering how many more of those you have.

Joel: My camera roll did seem to fill up once my shirts started going missing. Weird coincidence

You: 😠 you’re dead, Miller

Joel: Like to see you try.

Your face hurts from smiling so long from reading and rereading the messages that you consider locking your phone away for the rest of the night.

—

You wake up one morning to a text from him one morning, time stamped at 12:43am and your eyes widen. 

Joel: I'm thinking of you

Joel: Sorry if that’s me manipulating or something, read about all kinds of stuff online, but fuck I can’t stop thinking of you right now. Need you to know I miss you.

There was so much to unpack there that you spent the entire morning at work completely distracted by it. The most obvious thing, the elephant in the room, was the time. That late and you had to wonder if there was a specific reason he was thinking of you, and your thighs clamped together slightly at the thought of it. Shit, you missed his body so much, all the things he could do for you and to you. Not to mention the moments after, when you’d get your best talking done, just lay and gab to each other for ages sometimes, until one of you fell asleep. It had been so blissful, but you remind yourself those days are in the past.

You kept reading the message over and over, and the thing that stuck out the most was his comments about what he had been researching online. It almost made you laugh, how dad-like that was to be Googling and reading up on manipulation in relationships, or whatever the hell he’d gotten up to. On the other hand, it warmed your heart, showed he was trying to learn about himself, about his own baggage that had led to the way things ended with you two.

You’ve spent hours poring over the words, trying to decide how you should respond, or if you should at all. It was about to open a can of worms you weren’t sure you were ready for. And yet… you seemed unable to help yourself right now. 

Fuck, I can’t stop thinking of you. 

The words practically swim in front of your eyes while you try to get work done on your computer, taunting you and causing you to feel an ache between your legs that hasn’t made an appearance in quite a while. Maybe it was the loneliness, the missing Joel that influenced you right now, but you sigh, taking a deep breath before picking up your phone. 

You: Thinking what about me?

Before you can debate it anymore, you press send, and your hands shake slightly as you toss your phone on your desk, not even wanting to know what the response will be due to your embarrassment. Did that seem too desperate? He was the one practically saying he was touching himself to the thought of you at 1:00 in the morning, so you decide to cut yourself some slack. 

You wait impatiently, and thirty minutes later Joel’s response comes through and you feel your throat tighten when you read it. 

Joel: Think you can guess…

You: Can I call you tonight?

Joel: Anytime

Now that it’s out in the universe, you have no room for regretting taking this step. You couldn’t help but feel for Joel these last few weeks when you saw how hard he was trying. Everything you’d talked about that last morning you saw him had cut deeper and deeper the more you thought about it. Sure, he messed up so badly that you were still angry about it, and he had more than his share of making up to do for it. But you missed the man you’d been with, and now this version of him was slightly tainted from the nearly perfect seeming boyfriend you’d found yourself with before. But you were finding that this tainted version of Joel wasn’t too bad, after all. 

When it came down to it, Joel was scared. He was afraid of your love being too much, of being someone that wasn’t worth your time, love, and energy in the end. How could he think differently when the last time he had all of that, it blew up in his face? You’d known about it from passing mentions and a few times he shared some details of that breakup, but now that you saw the effects of that past relationship, you felt sorry for him. All you had wanted was to show him how much he could mean to you, and it had backfired for the both of you. 

You think you’d always want Joel. Even if you hadn’t been texting these last few weeks, even if he’d never shown up at your apartment that night when you called him over and over, you’d still want him. You’d still… love him. And it made you angry that you couldn’t stop it, couldn’t un-feel it even with how much he’d hurt you. 

But he was learning. He was on Google, looking up how to be better in a relationship, for Christ’s sake. Sure, it wasn’t therapy, but he was trying things in his own Joel way, and it made your heart wrench so hard in your chest it went right down to your stomach, making you feel sick half the time.

So yes, you wanted to hear his voice tonight. And as for anything that happened after he picked up your call…that was your own decisions to grapple with later.

Joel sits eagerly at home, the promise of hearing your voice on the other end of his phone tonight almost too much for him to bear. 

He was trying to be restrained, trying to keep his messages short but cordial to you, just to let you know he still cared, trying to make up for things without suffocating you. But last night he hadn’t been able to help himself when he woke up from dreaming about you with a hard on that was practically painful from the minute he’d opened his eyes. As he was palming the front of his briefs, tracing the outline of himself in his hands, he’d reached for his phone and sent you the first message. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered quietly to himself as his hand snaked into his briefs and wrapped it around his throbbing cock. He missed the way your soft hands felt around it so much, the way you’d giggle for him and moan and scream his name. It was all too much, the dream he’d just had about you had been too real. 

Images of you riding him flashed through his mind as he began moving his hand up and down, collecting the precum leaking out of his tip and spreading it along his shaft. He felt like some dirty old man thinking of you, his significantly younger ex, and getting off on it while you lay sleeping at home and unaware of all of it. But he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop the flashes of you that kept invading his thoughts while he built up a steady pleasure in his core. 

Your perfect ass passed through his thoughts next, memories of it bouncing pleasantly as he slammed his cock into you and left you in pieces, whimpering and crying out for him. Oh fuck, his hand was nothing like that perfect, tight pussy of yours, so lacking in comparison. Joel’s breathing quickened as he got close on every thought of you he could muster up before he groaned out, spilling warm ropes of cum into his fist and laying back to catch his breathing.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have done that. He’d been actively avoiding jerking off to you out of some private respect he was trying to give you, that it would somehow be crossing a line if he allowed himself pleasure at the thought of you after hurting you so badly.

After he washed his hands, cleaned up and got back into bed, he sent you the second message of the night, remembering all of the random relationship articles he’d been reading. It started last week, when he stumbled upon some relationship forum talking about control and age gaps in relationships and it had made his heart sink when he realized he actually really was part of the problem, despite how aware he’d thought he was being. 

So here he was, trying to be mindful that that first message may have been too suggestive, trying too hard to get you back on his side by manipulating you in some way. He had to find some balance - he couldn’t think every single message he sent to you was some kind of tactic, but he did need to be mindful of giving you the space you seemed to want. Every reply you’d sent to him at first had been short and to the point, still friendly but trying not to get too close again, so he wanted to maintain that energy until, or if, you ever felt ready to go further. And lately, it had seemed like you were giving more and more of yourself in the conversations, sometimes texting him back throughout the entire day.

When you responded to his late night horned up messages while Joel was at work the next day, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was starting to worry that he’d surely screwed up this new rhythm you two had found together, steadily building up a semblance of a friendship again, and had half expected you not to even respond.

Instead you’d taken his text and ran with it, your response only having one meaning behind it as far as he was concerned. Joel found himself tentatively excited when you’d even asked to call him tonight, wondering exactly what this would mean for you two. 

He could barely focus the entire evening, sitting around trying to distract himself. It was fully possible you wouldn’t call, after all, maybe you’d decide against it, and rightfully so, he thinks with a twinge of sadness. He couldn’t expect that you were ready for that just yet. His phone rings around 8:00 and Joel half jumps up off the couch, scrambling to answer it with fumbling fingers.

“Hello?” he says, his voice rough as he clears his throat.

“Um. Hi,” your little voice comes through his speaker, sounding somewhat shy. Christ was it music to his ears, though, hearing just those two sounds from you.

“Hey,” Joel replies, “Wh-what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing. I just… we haven’t talked in a while.”

“We talk pretty often, it seems,” Joel replies carefully. Not nearly often enough for him, but he’s been taking what he can get, what he feels is appropriate right now.

“I guess. Just thought I should hear your voice,” you say back, your voice slightly raspy with that end of the day tone that Joel has always adored.

Joel chuckles a little bit. “That so? Well it’s nice to hear yours.”

“You too…” you reply, trailing off into a somewhat awkward silence. “What’re you doing?”

“Watchin’ TV. Waitin’ for you to call, mostly,” Joel replies nonchalantly, having no shame in admitting just how eagerly he’d been awaiting you.

“Really? I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I wasn’t sure if I was gonna… I went back and forth.”

“No no, s’okay. Wanted you to call only if you wanted to do it. Don’t get me wrong, glad you did, but if you’re not sure about all of it, s’okay.”

“I don’t know, I’m just nervous. I don’t want to get hurt,” you reply, unsure of how to explain the myriad of fucked up feelings that have been plaguing you recently. You’d let Joel back in just enough to feel deeply for him once again, and felt like you were risking everything for it. You didn’t think you could survive going through what he put you through another time, so you wanted to be sure this time that he’d stick around.

“I know, s’the last thing I want, too,” Joel says, musing on your words. “Hope you trust it’s just a phone call, nothin’ more. We’re just talkin’, no pressure. Can hang up whenever you want, in fact, and I won’t be offended,” Joel says, and you can hear that he’s nervous, that he wants to say all the right things to you so badly. “Well, maybe a little bit offended but don’t worry ‘bout that,” he adds with a light hearted chuckle. 

You laugh a little, Joel’s reassuring words right now easing some of your tension. “Thanks. Just a phone call, then.”

Joel nods, giving an “mhm” into the phone for you. “So, what have you been doin’? Besides waitin’ to call me,” he asks with a playful hint in his tone.

You lay on your bed, fiddling with your hands anxiously as you crush your phone in between your shoulder and cheek. “Nothing really… just at home after work, made some dinner, the usual stuff. I…er-” you say, unsure really of what you expected from this phone call, but it wasn’t this. The way you keep trailing off suggests to Joel, being no stranger to you, that you have more to say.

“What is it, huh? You seem like you gotta say somethin’.”

“Okay, fine. Your texts… last night.”

Joel freezes up a little, feeling a slight wave of shame washing over him for what he’d done. That maybe you’d instantly realized the exact context of the messages - it wasn’t like it wasn’t obvious if you had half a brain. 

“Right. Sorry ‘bout that. Was just one of those nights, y’know? Really shouldn’t’ve made things weird like that.”

“Yeah no, it’s okay, I uh, didn’t mind it.”

“Oh,” Joel says quietly, the realization fully hitting him now. The beginnings of an excited smirk pull on his face. “Did you like knowin’ I was thinkin’ of you?”

“I- I think I did,” you say simply, your voice seeming to unintentionally go down an octave. “I liked it. I mean I think of you too, seems only natural.”

Joel feels relief and too many other emotions to even begin to name at your response. His heartbeat quickens with the possibilities before you two right now, and if they’re heading in the direction he thinks it might, he worries he’s in trouble now. Once he starts down that road again, how could he ever go back?

“Why so late, huh? When you thought about me?” you ask him, silently cursing yourself for being unable to help the words coming out of your mouth right now. You know what this is leading to, but you’re not entirely thinking with your head at the moment. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Woke up, actually, from a dream.” Joel wants to divulge everything, all the dirty little details of what you two had been doing in his sleep, but he wants to make sure you feel in control of the conversation more than he is, that this is really what you want. 

“About me?” you ask, your eyebrows raising. 

“‘Course it was, why else would I text ya,” Joel says with a chuckle.

“I dream about you too… it always feels good but kind of sad, too. Like you’re right there with me, and it’s amazing, and then...” You’re finding it easy to be so open with the phone between you two - you don’t know that you’d have the guts to say any of this to Joel’s face if he were here. 

“Oh, honey… I’m sorry,” Joel replies sympathetically, his voice softer. 

“I shouldn’t even wish you were here when that happens, but I do, you know.”

“I do too, it’s okay,” Joel says quietly, a soft confidence in his words.

“Joel…”

“Hmm?”

“Will you tell me about your dream?”

“Honey… you really want to do this? You know this is different from the way we’ve been talkin’ lately.” Joel licks his hips nervously before pulling them into his mouth, awaiting your response. 

“Yes…” you breathe out quietly. “I do.”

“You’re sure?” Joel asks, desperately hoping you two aren’t making a mistake right now. You’re not sure if you’re sure, you’re not sure of a damn thing right now other than the fact that you miss Joel fucking Miller. 

“Yes, please Joel, I need you right now, haven’t stopped thinking all day about it,” you tell him, and you hear a sharp hiss through Joel’s teeth over your phone speaker.

That was all Joel needed to hear to fold completely, the fact that you needed him in any way felt like a miracle. Fuck, it got his cock hard immediately just to hear those words from you. 

“Okay, baby, let’s start out nice and slow, then.” He shifts his weight on the couch, sitting back and relaxing into the cushions. You don’t answer, simply waiting for his next words with baited breath. “Tell me what you’re wearing,” Joel says, his breathing already ramping up into the receiver. 

“Okay, corny ass,” you tease, and he scoffs. 

“We don’t have to do this y’know, if you’re gonna be too busy bustin’ my balls,” Joel replies.

“N-n-no, sorry, sorry,” you say, trying to contain your laughter. How did it suddenly get to the point where you feel silly and almost self conscious doing any of this type of stuff with Joel?

“Now, tell me what you’ve got on, so I can picture ya,” Joel says, trying again. 

“Okay. It’s those purple silky PJ shorts, you know the ones… and a little white t shirt with flowers on it.”

“How little we talkin’?” Joel asks, his curiosity piqued. He knows exactly which shorts you’re describing, he’s seen them many times and absolutely dies to see the way they hug your sweet, perfect ass. But the shirt is a mystery to him, never having seen that one before. 

“Very. Think you’d like it, like everything you can see through it.”

Joel’s groan fills your ear through the phone and your breath bitches as you feel the space between your thighs begin a full ache at hearing the sound from him.

“Sounds so sexy, baby, can picture it now.”

“W-what about you? I want to picture you too.”

“I’m sitting on the couch, uh, got no shirt on and just my house shorts,” he says, and you smirk a little, knowing which bottoms he’s referring to. You would tease him often about how well you could see the outline of his dick in them, but you’d never minded the view one bit. 

“Hot,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows even though Joel can’t see them.

“Wish I could take all of it off of ya,” Joel says. 

“Trying to get me naked, Miller?”

“I sure as hell would be, if I was there.”

You smile, clutching the phone tightly and licking your lips in anticipation. You don’t feel completely confident about any of this, but you’re following your stupid, fucked up gut right now and this is the road it’s leading you down. 

“So… your dream,” you remind him.

“Uh, alright. I mean, it was real nice. Came up to me and sat on my lap, kissin’ my neck. Felt so good like you always do, baby. Fuck, when you started grinding on me…” Joel trails off, lost between the real life memories and his recent dream. 

“Mhm, always feels so good,” you murmur out, already getting quickly absorbed in his words. “Love doing that.” You let a little smile onto your face as you think of it. 

“Then… well, we…” 

“Joel, when have you ever been shy about this stuff?” you interrupt his stuttering. 

“Dunno, since I’m not sure where things stand, I guess. Just don’t want to go too far.” He slides a hand across his chin through his beard nervously. 

“It’s okay, I want to hear it…. wanna hear you say what you did to me,” you tell him. 

Joel seems to get a sudden resolve, and you can practically hear it hardening over the phone as he decides to go as fully in on this as you seem to want him to. 

“‘Alright then… I fuckin’ tore your little dress off of you, had you flipped onto the couch and fucked you so hard, baby, just like I know you like. Fuckin’ that little pussy until you were cryin’ out f‘me.”

You let out a small gasp at his words, practically being able to feel the sensation he’s talking about, his cock so deep inside of you at an angle like that. “Fuck…” you breathe out quietly, feeling your thighs clamping together. 

“You came so loud for me in the dream, missed hearin’ that sound. Missed everythin’ about ya,” Joel muses. “Wish I could show you right now.”

“You wish you were here with me?” you ask. 

“‘Course I do,” Joel says plainly, like he’s wished for it every single moment of every day since you two have been apart. 

“W-what would you do to me first? I wanna pretend you’re here,” you ask hesitantly. 

“What to do with such a beautiful girl…” Joel says with a little sly chuckle. “First I’d wanna give your perfect tits some attention, baby. Can you do that for me? Play with your tits for me?”

“Mhm,” you moan quietly as you cup one of your breasts through your shirt, thumbing at your already hardened nipple through the fabric. A quiet sound escapes you and you arch your hips a little into the sensation. 

“Good, I can hear ya enjoying that, sounds so good, sweetheart.”

“Touch yourself too, Joel,” you say hastily, your breathing already starting to get more erratic with want. 

“I will, don’t you worry. Right now’s about you,” he says, trying to hold back some of the eagerness in his voice. This is all like a dream right now, the way you’re responding to him and willing to do this. 

You continue touching your chest, squirming with delight and desire and waiting for what Joel has in store for you next, whining out impatiently. 

“You gettin’ wet right now, hm? Why don’t you just check for me, lemme know what you feel,” Joel says.

You slide your hand into your shorts, gasping slightly at the touch in your oversensitive, aroused state. When your fingers swipe through your slit to your entrance, you’re practically dripping out already, the anticipation all day from Joel’s texts having done you in completely. 

“Fuck, I’m so wet, Joel, I need… I need…” you gasp out as your fingers rub against your needy clit. 

“Tell me, c’mon, angel, you can tell me,” Joel coos, urging you on. 

“Need your cock,” you whimper, picturing the girthy length of him you’d gotten to shatter your world so many times.

“I know, I know,” Joel says soothingly. He wishes he could run his hand over your hair right now, smooth it down and make you feel better in so many ways. “Gonna have to pretend for now. Go on and use your fingers on yourself.”

“O-okay,” you breathe out, starting to move your fingers, rubbing them slowly in circles around your clit. You exhale with a little moan, thinking about how long needed this has been for you. The times you’ve felt up for touching yourself recently it often left you feeling a little sad after, hating yourself for how much you missed Joel’s touch. But this… this was already miles better.

“Feels so good, Joel, yeah,” you say quietly, losing yourself in the pleasure.

“Yeah? Bet it does, baby. Put your fingers inside, lemme know how that is. Wanna hear everything.”

“Oh,” you moan out as you plunge two of your fingers inside, pumping them a few times to get them as deep as they’ll go before retreating them and repeating it over and over. “Joel…”

“I’m right here, honey, keep on goin, doin’ so good,” Joel praises. “You got those fingers in there just the way you like ‘em?” 

“I- I do, God, Joel, I miss your fucking fingers, I c-can’t do what they do.”

“I know, baby. My big fingers fill you up so good don’t they?”

“Mhmmm,” you moan out, continuing to fuck yourself a little faster with your fingers. “Can I touch my clit now, too? Tell me,” you say airily, your pleasure steadily building from touching that spongy spot deep inside of you. 

“Do it, rub that little clit, probably aching so bad f’me right now.” Joel lets out a pained groan of his own when you start to moan louder. 

“F-fuck, can’t wait any longer, gotta touch myself too,” he adds, to which you give an encouraging little whimper for him. He pulls his cock out from his shorts where it’s been throbbing, aching, and dripping for you. He gathers the bit of precum leaking out of his head and rubs it along his shaft, letting out a small hiss. Hearing the sounds you’re making, even over the phone, has him practically going feral with need, and he can’t wait another second to start finding some relief.

“Please. Wanna come together, Joel.”

“Okay, we’ll make it happen. Keep touchin’ that pretty pussy for me, don’t stop,” Joel says urgently, and as he lets out a small whimper, you can only assume means he’s starting stroking himself with the same urgent energy.

“I’m s-so close already, thinking of you,” you say, fingers moving faster as you keep your phone balanced on your shoulder while you bring your other hand down to rub your clit rapidly, your climax building up quickly in your core, swirling warm and tingly deep inside of you. 

“Me too, so fuckin’ close, could make me come in a second flat with those pretty little noises you make,” Joel says huskily, and you think you can hear the sloppy sounds of flesh slapping on flesh from his end of the phone. It makes things even hotter for you, only intensifies your pleasure that he’s so undone for you right now. 

“Fuck, I- I’m coming Joel,” you manage to stutter out before your clench around your fingers, your cunt pulling them in tight where they’re brushing against your g-spot still as your other hand rapidly and desperately rubs your clit through the waves of your climax. This release feels so damn needed right now, it feels like it’s going on for ages in the best way, spark after spark skittering across your skin as your entire body arches up into your hands. You’re moaning loudly, barely hearing Joel’s nearly pained sounding grunts on the other end. 

“I’m comin’ too, baby, yes, f-fuck,” Joel groans out while you’re in the midst of crying out, and he comes hard into his hand, so much better than the high he’d had last night. Knowing you were right there on the other end, getting off on your memories of being with him was fucking Joel up hard. He slumps back on the couch, breathing heavily as you feel yourself start to come back down to reality. 

“Mmm,” you murmur quietly into the phone as your entire body relaxes onto your bed. “Needed that,” you say dazedly, half forgetting that what just happened was with Joel, someone you weren’t even certain you should be doing this with. 

“You did so perfect, honey, such a good girl,” Joel says lazily before you fall into silence, the both of you just breathing into the receiver for a few moments. You’re starting to feel a crushing guilt weigh on your chest now that you’re fully coming back down from the high that has been Joel, and you wince a little. 

“Shit, Joel… was this stupid of us?” you ask him suddenly into the silence.

“Probably, honestly,” he says with a chuckle, not seeming to realize the mini crisis you’re starting to have on the other end. “But if you feel okay, I feel okay.”

“I dunno what I feel, now. I- I - shit…” Your thoughts are swirling through your head, full of both regret and joy, the two living together and battling it out for which one will lead your next decision. 

“Take your time, s’okay. That was a lot. Made me feel a little unsure of myself, too,” Joel replies, clearly having sobered up at your tone.

“It did? You never feel that way… doing this stuff,”

“Different this time cause… well, I know I didn’t deserve it,” Joel says sullenly, and your eyebrows pinch together tighter as you consider his words. Joel isn’t one for self deprecating talk, typically, especially when it comes to intimacy. You’re feeling a little pull to comfort him, unsure if like he said, he deserves it. Shit, you’re a mess.

“N-no, it’s not that, I wouldn’t have called you if I wasn’t ready, but now I…” you stutter out, losing your words.

“Not so sure now, right?” Joel asks sympathetically, and you sigh, long and drawn out. 

“I just give in too easily to you, Joel. You hurt me so badly, and here I am, calling you like this, letting you call me baby and all that shit, fucking myself to your voice, when you didn’t talk to me… like none of it even mattered to you! I shouldn’t have done this, I shouldn’t have…” you shake your head, swiping a hand across your face and through your hair in frustration. Apparently tonight the regret is winning, you think irritatedly. 

“What do you need from me? Y’know I’m never gonna say I regret doin’ this tonight. But I know I have more makin’ up to do to you than one phone call, that’s for damn sure. Regret every minute I spent bein’ a stubborn asshole thinkin’ I was doin’ right by you if I just ignored it, let you move on.” Joel lets out a breath and clutches the phone against his ear, desperate to be closer to you. “J-just tell me how I can make it okay for you, honey. Y’know I’ll do anythin’… anythin’ at all if it means you’re okay. Don’t care what it means for me, just can’t stand hearin’ you hurtin’ anymore because of me.” Joel’s voice cracks throughout his speech, desperate words flying out of his mouth to try to comfort you. He’s always seemed like a problem solver to you, the one who immediately needs to get to work, to solve things right away, but you both know this isn’t one of those cases. 

Your breathing steadies a little, finding you’re calming down at his words. “Maybe let’s slow it down a little. This kind of freaked me out,” you say, “I can see you’re trying really hard Joel, I do see it, but is it for real, you know? Or is it just some way to ease your conscience?”

“My conscience’ll be wrecked no matter what, darlin’, so honestly that’s out of the question. Wrecked it for good the minute I walked out your door. All I want now is to do right by ya, whatever that means. Show I’m more than that one stupid fuckin’ night. I can do slow, if that’s what you need,” Joel says, and while you do believe it, your relationship never did anything remotely slow, you think nearly with a laugh.

“You’re more than that night, Joel, I’ve always known that,” you say, taking a pause for the words to sink in  “But slow, yeah, slow sounds good for right now.”

A few weeks later, you and Joel have reverted back to your texting relationship, with a few phone calls sprinkled in, and you’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore at this point. You’ve never felt more confused or conflicted about anything in your life. There’s a part of you that wonders if giving in and telling Joel you want to try things again would be sacrificing whatever self respect you have left. But he’s admitted more than anyone that it was a huge mistake, and has shown he regrets it time and time again. He’s been consistent, not pushing you right now to go further than you want, to give more than you can. It’s all very unlike Joel, who loved to be in control of your relationship before, of the way you two behaved together. From the start, he was always the one guiding you, teaching you about so many new, wonderful things. 

It had to be killing him, that he didn’t have that right now. That everything was on your terms. But he stayed patient and kind, responding to your messages always with the same energy, always open to going only as far as you wanted to take things on the phone together. 

He was trying so damn hard, and that made it so damn hard for you to resist what you knew was inevitably coming. 

You’re musing on all of this as you drive to your parents’ house one evening to have dinner with them. You haven’t spent nearly as much time with them as you normally would, but they’ve been understanding given everything you have going on. It doesn’t help that their next door neighbor was someone you’d tried to avoid seeing for a while, and even now that things are moving in a good direction, you don’t know if you can handle unexpected run-ins with him just yet. You need your decision to be final the next time you see Joel in person. 

Your parents have been kept as up to date on things as you’ve been comfortable sharing, and have been nice enough to come your way most of the time, or meet you out for dinner somewhere so you could actively avoid Joel. You knew they had a lot to say about it but they were holding their tongues for the most part. They had mostly expressed that while they didn’t love how hurt you’d been, they knew you were smart enough to make decisions on your relationship with Joel going forward. It was nice to hear they trusted your intuition, when you weren’t even sure you trusted it yourself right now. 

When you’re on your way to your car after visiting with your parents for a few hours, you steal a quick glance at Joel’s house, feeling the temptation to go knock on his door creep up. He doesn’t even know you’re so nearby, and you’d hoped he didn’t happen to notice your car parked outside. You realize how pathetic it is, how much you’re avoiding Joel right now, but you know deep inside yourself that the only reason you are is because you know the minute he’s in your eyesight, you’re going to lose all control. All your logical thoughts and wishes to build things slowly will go out the window, and you’ll end up back in his bed, wondering if it was the right choice. 

You hear someone call out your name as you’re walking to your car, lost in these thoughts, and you whirl around to see Tommy walking to his own truck, parked on the street outside of Joel’s house.

“Oh, hey, Tommy. It’s been a while,” you say genially. He opens his arms wide for a hug, and you find you don’t mind it at all, settling in between his arms for a quick, tight squeeze.

“Sure has, how you been?” Tommy asks you, with a slightly sad, knowing look in his eyes. You swallow hard, unsure of where to begin on that answer, but you find yourself wanting to answer simply.

“Honestly… I’m alright. Well, just okay,” you admit to him. 

Tommy nods understandingly, but before he can comment on the status of things between you and Joel, you butt in again.

“Hey, how’s… Maria, right? Are you two still seeing each other?” You’d remembered hearing about a few dates Tommy had gone on while you and Joel were still together, and the look on his face had told you just how smitted he was with the women. He lets out a little chuckle and his smile grows almost automatically at your question.”

“Yes ma’am, she’s good as ever. Thanks for rememberin’.” He shoots you a grateful look and you smile back.

“Listen -” he cuts in before you can switch topics again. Your face falls, his tone telling you this isn’t about to be pleasant to hear. 

“I know this ain’t your responsibility, necessarily. But it’s Joel’s birthday on Friday. We’re all takin’ him out after work, the usual spot, Murray’s, you know the one. I think it’d mean a lot if you came.”

Your eyes widen and you feel your breathing go a little unsteady. “I- I - don’t know about that. I haven’t seen him in…” You crinkle your brown, trying to think of how long ago that had been when Joel was sitting in your living room, pouring his heart out to you. It feels like a lifetime ago, now.

“Not one for beggin’, usually, but please think about it. I shouldn’t even say, but sweetheart, he’s miserable right now. You ain’t seen him the way I have. He’s practically sick over this, pouring over everything he says to ya, every memory, everything he could’ve changed. Can tell he’s in his head and he’s a fuckin’ mess.” Tommy’s eyes peer off past you in the distance while he shakes his head. “He told me some, not everything, and ya should be mad at my prick of a brother, but I know he’s tryin’.”

You let out an exasperated chuckle. “He is trying, I know. I see it, Tommy. Thank you for telling me all of that, it’s hard to see what he’s going through, exactly, I guess. Only showing me what he can over text, you know?”

“I know, he’s stubborn like that. Doesn’t want you to feel any pressure, he’s said that much. So unlike him,” Tommy muses with a little smile.  

“I’ll uh, I’ll think about Friday,” you tell him, deciding you owe it to both of them to at least consider the possibility of showing up for Joel’s birthday. 

Tommy lights up a little, a small smile curling his lips upwards. “Thank you, sweetie. Just even considerin’ it, big step in my book. Appreciate you hearin’ me out.”

“Of course, anything for my favorite Miller brother,” you tease, and Tommy gives you a little howl of laughter, his cheeks reddening.

“Never lettin’ that one get back to Joel if I know what’s good for me,” he replies, putting his hands on his hips. “I’ll let ya go, but see ya Friday… maybe?”

“See you, Tommy,” you say before turning and making your way back to your car. You sit with your lips twisted to the side, thinking over what Tommy had said for a few minutes before starting your car.

You had a few days to think on your decision, and truthfully, you had already gotten Joel a birthday gift. A few weeks ago, you’d seen the perfect thing for him and couldn’t resist buying it, and the fact that his birthday was coming just happened to be great timing. You didn’t have a plan on when you’d give it to him, but Tommy’s offer had given you a reason and a little push to maybe finally take that leap. You knew it would be important for Joel that you show up that night.

When Friday night rolls around, you’re a nervous wreck. You’ve had several days to think, and you’re still landing somewhere on the unsure side of things, and you start to think that maybe you never would be sure when it came to seeing Joel after so long apart. As if on autopilot, you grab your keys and get in your car, flying down the highway before you can even second guess yourself and turn around. 

Just keep driving, you assure yourself over and over. You can always decide along the way how you want to go about it, picture the hundreds of different ways this could go tonight, the thought of what you might say to Joel when you finally look him in the eyes.

You pull into the parking lot of Murray’s, the bar that Joel and his crew frequent after work, and find that no matter how hard you try, you can’t make yourself get out of the car. You watch the now darkening sky change past the bar, shrouding the exterior as the glow of the lights from inside spill out. You can’t see much through the bar’s windows, but you know he’s in there, hopefully having a great time. You worry at your lip with the opposite thought coming to mind - that Joel is sitting there waiting for you the entire night, hoping you’ll walk through the door. The thought nearly feels conceited, too self assured, so you push it away, willing that he’s having a nice time with his brother and friends. You just don’t think you can be a part of it.

You can’t just walk into a room full of people that know him, maybe even know who you are too, and try to settle things between you and Joel. It just doesn’t feel fair to either of you to make such an uncomfortable situation when he’s just trying to celebrate his birthday. You nod quickly to yourself as you make your decision, pulling the car out of the parking lot, but instead of making the turn to head back home, you go the opposite way, towards Joel’s house, once again doing it before you can think too hard about the decision.

You step out into the cooler, late September air once you park at Joel’s place, settling yourself on one of the wicker chairs Joel has on his front porch. You might be batshit crazy, waiting for him in the dark like this, but you don’t care anymore. You’re consumed by the thought of Joel coming home, finding you here waiting for him, kissing you until your lips are puffy and raw and in between your legs is aching for him. You can’t deny it any longer - you were meant to be with this man, and you’re ready, more than ready to start putting the past behind you. To try again. Even with the possibility of hurt looming again, you’ll risk it for him. You can only hope he still feels the same way.

The night stretches on, and you’re starting to wonder if this idea really is stupid, when headlights come down the street and a car stops in front of Joel’s house. Through the shadows cast by the streetlamps, you see Joel’s broad form exiting the car, and hear a faint goodbye from him as he shuts the door. You can’t gauge his mood from just his outline or the way he’s walking, and he doesn’t even seem to be that drunk if his steady gait is any indication.

You swallow hard, a nervous pit growing in your stomach as he walks up the driveway and onto the path that leads to his porch. His keys jangle while he searches for the right one for the front door, and you panic that he hasn’t noticed you sitting here yet. You shift a little in your seat, gearing up to speak to him, which gets his attention. He jerks his head in your direction, but freezes when he sees as much of you as he can through the dark, and you know he recognizes that it’s you from the look in his dark eyes.

You clear your throat, putting on your best smile for him.

“Hey stranger…” you say quietly. “Happy birthday.”

taglist: @paleidiot @mumma-moonchild @soph55 @chicville03 @joelsversion @feliciab1990 @fellinfromthetop @gossipgirl-03 @sarap-77 @blueseastorm @akah565​ @pattwtf @scarlettthefierce

sorry if ur tag doesn't work idk why tumblr is like thisssss

[thisreadswhatever]

Anything For The Club: Part Two

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader, reader x oc characters

[wordcount]: 1.6k+

[summary]: Jax gets back from his run after rushing home to you, and a concerning discovery is made at Diosa.

[series cw]: 18+ minors do not interact! female reader, swearing, sexual harassment/assault (non-canon characters), alcohol use, mix of fluff, smut and angst throughout, p in v sex, teasing, violence, gun use, mentions of blood, murder, blackmail

[authors note]: still no smut yet.. but it's coming, i promise! this however is my favourite part because soft jax makes me feel a type of way. let me know if you want to be tagged in part three :)

You woke up to the feeling of strong hands wrapping around your waist, goose bumps forming at the feel of his cold rings pressing against your skin. You turned to find Jax curled up next to you, still dressed in his jeans and kutte, too preoccupied with getting into bed with you to change. An audible sigh of relief escaped your lips as you came to realise he was home. “You’re here.” 

You melted into the feeling of him beside you, like you could finally breathe again. His safe arms cloaked your body as he wove himself between the sheets and your skin. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” He still made your heart race even after all the years you’d been together, it always felt like that first time you saw him when he came home to you. 

He pulled you in tighter, pressing your back snug against his chest, and you closed your eyes as you revealed in the warmth.

“We decided it would be easier to let Chibs and Juice handle the rest, too much heat for all of us to be involved. I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. I rode back as soon as I could.”

He leaned over and found your lips, crushing his mouth to yours with urgency. His hand cupped at your chin as he drew your face higher into his, stroking your jaw with his thumb as his tongue encased yours. You never wanted it to end. 

“You sure you’re okay?” You didn’t want details, but it concerned you that whatever had happened on the run, he felt like he needed to get out of there. Despite how relieved you were he was home safe, you knew it wasn’t like Jax to bail from club business, no matter how much heat there was.

“I am now.” He laid back on his side as he was engulfing himself around you again, kissing your ear as he stated softly, “Not like you to drink on the job.” He must’ve smelt the lingering alcohol on your breath. He never did miss a thing. 

You had already made the decision to not bother Jax with the events of last night. It was well known that you had to handle drunk clients at Diosa, and it didn’t feel like it was fair to bother Jax with it when he had so much else going on. 

“The girls wanted to take a few shots before I left.” You had tried your best to sound nonchalant, hoping he wouldn’t sense your anxiety. He found your face again and kissed you once more, reassured by your response.

You broke from the intoxication of his lips long enough to look over at the clock on your bedside.

“What time is it?” With your hazy eyes, you could just make out the bright red numbers.

“Shit Jax, I really have to sleep before I get back to Diosa.” 

“Don’t work, stay here with me.” 

Jax pulled you into him, shifting your body so you were facing him in bed. He continued to kiss you, his hands intertwining with your clothes as he attempted to pull your shirt off, struggling with the task due to the dead weight of your half asleep body. He gave up the fight and wrapped one hand through your hair, while the other felt every inch of you. “I missed my girl too much.” He trailed his fingers along your side under the fabric, caressing the skin leading to your breasts. It was so hard to say no to him. 

“If only I wasn’t Vice President of Diosa”, you groaned. 

He slowed his kisses down, a smile cracking from his lips he planted small pecks along your jawline. He laid his forehead against you, and met his nose to yours as he nuzzled the tip gently. “Get some sleep, VP. I’m gonna work on the bike in the garage.” Jax kissed your cheek once more and shuffled out of bed, letting you drift back to sleep peacefully. 

----------

You arrived at Diosa the next day, still slightly hungover from the one too many impromptu shots. As you walked into your office, one of the girls greeted you and handed over the mail. You set the stack of envelopes on your desk, and logged into your laptop, checking your email and upcoming calendar. 

You heard a knock, and looked up to see Nero was standing in the doorframe. “How you feeling?” 

“Like I could use some coffee.” 

“You sure you’re okay? Last night was tough. That guy was a total prick.” 

“I’m fine, Nero, honestly. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

“You tell Jax?” 

You loved Nero, but his pestering about the situation was grating on you. You just wanted to forget it.

“No need, they won’t be back.” 

Nero nodded and smiled warily as he left down the hall, “I’ll get Mandy to bring you that coffee.” 

“Thanks boss.” 

You slumped back in your chair, sighing. For some reason that guy really had left a churning feeling in your stomach. The guilt was eating at you for keeping it from Jax and lying to reassure Nero that you were fine, despite the fact you felt it was almost an overreaction to feel how you were now. The President had disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, and you never had to see him again. He was just some random creep, but that darkness in his eyes kept haunting your memory.

You tried to distract yourself with work, digging into your email and spreadsheets. Mandy brought your coffee in, asking if you were alright. 

“Not you too. It isn’t the first time a client’s been a dick. I’m good. Thanks for the coffee”, you added with a reassuring smile. 

“Alright alright, just checking. Can we go through the bar stock today? We’re looking pretty light.” 

“Yeah, just give me a few minutes and I’ll be with you.” 

She nodded and started to head out before noticing the pile of mail on your desk. “Do you need any help with that? You got a hefty stack there to get through.” 

You glanced at the piling envelopes again, realising you hadn’t even attempted to look at them yet. “Sure, let’s do that before we start the bar.” 

Mandy started shredding through the pile with your letter opener, as you filed away the invoices and booking confirmations. She was chatting away with you about the new guy she was seeing, and how he was planning a romantic getaway weekend for the two of them in Nevada. That was something you and Jax didn’t really get to do. Despite how happy you were for her, you couldn’t help but feel envious at the idea of her seemingly “normal” dating life.

You looked up at Mandy as she had gone quiet. She was suddenly no longer gushing about her boyfriend, holding a tan envelope up closer to her as she seemed to be reading it intently.

“Weird. This one doesn’t look like it’s for us.” 

She handed it to you. You didn’t recognise the forwarding address, but your blood ran cold as you read the first two lines.

 ‘M L GALINDO, VAGOS CLUBHOUSE’. 

The letter fell through your fingers, your coffee crashed to the floor as you tried to catch it, and the contents spilled across the cream carpet. “Shit!” Mandy yelled as she shot up from her seat, rushing to get some paper towels. You scrambled to the floor, picking up the empty cup and envelope, now covered in coffee. You ignored the liquid, prying open the side of the letter without ripping the entire thing. It was an electric bill, dated from two months ago. 

Mandy rushed in with the paper towels, dropping to her knees to soak up the remnants from the floor. She tossed her head back in frustration as she realised with scrubbing that the stain wasn’t budging. “This is never coming out.” Her attention turned to your eyes, which were still starring at the envelope, “are you alright? What is it?” 

You tried to play off your confusion with a shrug, “just me being a klutz again. The letter must’ve been sent to the wrong address.” 

Mandy had never known you to be a klutz. She looked at you with prying eyes, “isn’t that the name of those guys who were here last night?” She leaned over to look at the letter again in your hands, “‘Vagos’?” 

You put the wet letter in your desk and locked the drawer. 

“I’m sure they accidentally dropped it while they were here. I’ll take it to the mailbox and let them redirect it.” 

You played it off as best you could, considering it was hardly a believable story. As if a group of gang members would just happen to drop an electric bill behind at a escort hub. It was a hard sell, though you truthfully didn’t have any explanation for it either.

Mandy stood up from the floor, holding the now soiled paper towel soaked in cold coffee. You’d never seen her look at you so seriously before, her brows furrowed as she scanned your face for the truth. “Are those guys bothering you? Do we need to get The Club?” 

“Its just some random coincidence. Nothing that we need to bother The Club with.” You headed for the door, trying to change the subject. “Let’s go check out that stock.”

———

part three

find my masterlist here

[seriesxwriting]

I’ve got you always

W JJ maybank

Summary- Rafe Cameron shoots you. You fall. JJ watches in horror but can’t do anything. And you have a nasty injury. Your worried JJ will lose interest in you after everything but he sticks with you helping you through everything until your better.

Warnings- kissing, use of a gun, blood, your character getting shot. A lot of swearing. Mentions of death, fighting. Serious injuries.

Series- outer banks.

Request are open🫶

“JJ! I was so worried” I grabbed his pink cheeks softly, while guiding his face towards mine feeling my heart race with excitement, nerves and relief all at the same time. JJ tucked my hair behind my ears not breaking our kiss. I missed his sent and touch over the few hours he was gone, I’m not even sure what he went to do but id woken up alone and my heart leaped out my chest, panic spread throughout my whole body.

“Missed you beautiful” he wrapped me up in his strong arms and I blinked against his chest not wanting to pry but also wanting answers. “JJ- what were you…” his body jolted and his head snapped looking around in the dark woods for nothing in particular “shh- do you hear that?” He asked me snatching up my hand with a hint of aggression still looking in to the distance. His protective side lit up. I listened out and thought I heard a bike or a car maybe. “JJ? Who’s here” I whispered unsteadily.

He didn’t answer but dragged me towards the base of the tree. “Ki!” JJ hissed nodding his head at the tree as a signal, the rest of the pouges all followed. JJ climbed the tree with ease, Me … not so much. He held his hand out to me helping to pull me up. “What’s going on” I whispered while climbing higher and higher. “Someone’s here… I think it’s foe” he told me sitting on one of the top branches. I noticed the others were sitting at the top of the tree on the other side.

I wasn’t like them. Even though I came from the pogue background I didn’t have what they all had in them. I didn’t have fight. My boyfriend yanked me up just in time. We heard footsteps now treading through the trees. “I need you to be quite okay hun- I’ve got you, always” JJ wrapped an arm around my waist securing me in the tree and in his arms. I nodded and tucked my head under his chin. My eyes scanned the trees. The fear of the unknown took over.

In that moment Barry and Rafe stepped into our area. My heart dropped when I saw the guns in there hands. I looked over at Sarah who looked just about as frightened as I was. “Go check the house” Rafe nodded to Barry ordering him about. It didn’t them them long to realise that they couldn’t find us. “THEY! We’re just here!” Rafe screamed kicking one of the chairs. “Great observation Boy Scout” Barry rolled his eyes but as he did he caught onto something.

Barry began to start laughing and Rafe didn’t like it. “What the fuck is so funny” he snapped getting agitated. Barry outstretched his arm pointing to the tree. “Your sister and your ex girl are pouges for life” Rafe turned his head to look at the tree. His brows knitted together. “Why the fuck is y/n’s name on there?” “She’s dating that blonde one now, you really haven’t heard?” Barry chuckled realising how much it still disturbed rafe.

“Well shit” rafe nodded at no one in particular. He pointed gun at tree and let out a yell while shooting or carvings. “RAFE STOP IT! Your gonna get us busted!” Barry raced towards him pointing the gun upwards. The bullets flew past the pouges.

Suddenly everything stopped.

My vision started to become all blurry and i couldn’t hear anything. My grip became loose and JJ was busy staring at rafe, he didn’t realise I was slipping. I tried grabbing a branch but I missed. I watched his face drop in horror as I fell.

I hit the floor hard and it caught Rafe and Barry’s attention. “Y/n” Rafe said under his breath, his eyes widened before he ran over his hand landed on my stomach and he noticed I was bleeding. “Shit! SHIT” rafe shouted not even caring about the fact I’d appeared out of nowhere. Barry who had a little more common sense at the time looked up seeing all the pouges in the tree.

They were all scrambling down now especially JJ. “Y/n!” Ki screamed jumping onto the floor. She was first over “Rafe! Fucking shoot them” “shut up!” He told Barry with tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry y/n” he whispered watching blood spill out of my mouth. “Get the fuck away from her” JJ came over and pushed Rafe off me. I could hardly see what was going on but I felt ki grab my hand and tell me it was going to be okay.

“If you wasn’t hiding her up there and involving her in your dirty life style this never would have happened” Rafe yelled pushing JJ back. “You you weren’t so fucked up in the head this never would have happened” JJ squared up to him again. “STOP IT” Sarah winced running in between them. “Y/n needs an ambulance! She doesn’t need you both fighting over her right now” she begged with her eyes.

“Rafe you need to leave” Sarah told him as a tear fell out of her eye. “I’m not going anywhere! Until she is safe” he told her firmly. “Then do something useful and call an ambulance” JJ slimed his eyes. “Rafe! We have to go who do you think will come with an ambulance?” Barry told him. “The pigs!” “Fuck- FUCK” Rafe shouted punching his fist at the tree. Sarah jumped out of her skin.

Rafe pulled out his phone and called the ambulance. His voice was shaky and he didn’t take his eyes off me the whole time. When he ended the call rafe walked over to the group. He was clenching his jaw. “I didn’t want this” he shook his head. “Too late” ki bitterly scowling at him. “You- you need to tell me if- when- she gets better, I need to know she’s going to be alright” Rafe told them as a tear fell out of his eye.

“RAFE! Let’s go” Barry shouted getting annoyed. “Promise me!” Rafe shouted at the group. “We will tell you if she makes it” Sarah said smally. “And I’ll make sure she remembers who did it” JJ slimmed his eyes on Rafe. “This isn’t over” Rafe muttered before backing away slowly watching my chest move up and down… hardly. “I should fucking kill him” JJ clenched his fists by his waist. “JJ” John B warned him.

The next day-

My eyes began opening. The environment was unfamiliar. My eye lids were extremely heavy and hard to keep open. “Shit y/n!- go get JJ” I heard being whispered around me. “Wh-where am I?” I stuttered looking around the white room as my vision slowly came back. Trying to sit up was my first mistake. “Shit” I groaned laying back down. “Your- at the hospital y/n” Sarah told me softly. All the pouges apart from John B and JJ were in the room.

“What…” I asked scrunching my face up. “Rafe” I whispered remembering flashes of what happened. “You had a pretty nasty fall after he- shot you” pope explained to me clearly. “Twice” ki frowned shaking her head. I looked down seeing a patch attached to my shoulder and another stuck to my stomach. JJ came sprinting into the room witch John B not far behind. “Y/n” JJ whispered coming to my side.

“Your okay” I smiled reaching for his hand. “Yeah- yeah of course I’m okay it’s you were worried about” he looked at me like I was glass. I tried moving my legs so i could sit up easier but nothing budged. I tried again failing before the idea of my legs not working came into my head. “What the fuck is happening to me” i winced pocking at my legs. “JJ what is happening to me” I raised my voice slightly with tears flooding in my eyes.

“Leave us” he ordered his friends shooing them out of the room with the flap of his hand. “I can’t move- why can’t I move” I panicked grabbing at his hand as the pouges left the room, closing the door. “Listen to me hun, your going to be okay” he brushed my hair out my face and dried a tear that had fell out my eye. “The doctor said when you fell your spine cracked- when it heals they will teach you how to walk again you will be good as new”

My breathing became rapid as the panic spread over me. “Y/n listen to me- I’ve got you! Always okay, I’m going to get you through this you will be okay” he clutched my hand looking into my eyes. “Promise me you won’t leave me like this” I asked him softly. “Y/n Im not going anywhere, I’m in love with you” “you- what?” I looked up at him with wide eyes. “You heard me love” he smiled shyly. I noticed red filling his cheeks which made me smile too.

“I love you too JJ” I kissed his hand holding it close to my chest. “Your going to be just fine” he told me nodding his head up and down. “I trust you- what are we going to do about Rafe?” “I don’t know… I really don’t know” JJ sighed half deflated and he dragged a chair over to me. “What did he- say?” I asked him with no eye contact. “What when you fell?” “Mmh” I nodded subtlety.

“He didn’t mean to shoot you- that he didn’t want this to happen” JJ rolled his eyes. “Clearly still is in love with you” “is that jealousy I see maybank?” I giggled looking up at him. “Maybe” he shrugged not looking at me. “Well, who cares? You know where I stand” I told him turning his head to look at me. “Yeah” JJ nodding with a little twinkle leaning down to my lips after a few seconds. I know he was hesitant because I was ‘frail’.

But I’d miss this. He was exactly what I needed to help me heal. My hand found his hair to secure his head while we kissed. JJ pulled back smiling at me. Resting his chin on my arm as I held his face. “We’re in this together yeah, you and me” he whispered gently. “Always”.

[seenoversundown]

The Caravel Tavern Series : Prologue

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, sibling banter, fluff/wholesome/good vibes.

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The opening of Caravel Tavern was a dream come true for Jake. With the help of his best friends and brothers, naturally. In a small city in New England, it's rare to come across new faces. (or even run into some from the past)

A 4 Book interconnected series where they find love in the most unexpected ways. The bar was Jake's dream, but somehow is helping everybody else's dreams come true as well.

Rom-Com • Enemies To Lovers • Love At First Sight • Rekindled High School Sweethearts • Workplace Romance • AU - Boys x OCs

Night Moves - Bob Seger  “When you just don't seem to have as much to lose Strange how the night moves With autumn closin' in”                                               

Two Days until Open 

Flipping the heavy lock and hearing the door chime has become my favorite way to start my day. After six long months of fixing up this place, it’s only days from officially opening. I’ve spent countless hours cleaning it up, with the help of my brothers, obviously. But it has come together and finally feels like mine.

 “Goodmoooooorning!” Josh sings from across the room. 

“Good Morrow!” I can’t help the slight accent that comes along with it. 

Josh has been helping me decorate, thrift, and create things to match the aesthetic here. Deciding to develop a piratical vibe with a touch of retro themes felt right. We’ve spent hours finding the perfect pieces to hang, and thankfully, Josh has a good eye for all that. Red neon signs adorned the walls, with my favorite “Sinners Welcome” sign hanging behind the bar. 

“I think we are getting close to finishing with the decor,” Josh says, turning to make eye contact with me. 

“If you’re happy with it, then I’m happy with it,” I said, smiling back at him. “Just let me know what I can do to help. Otherwise, I’ll be organizing until the cows come home.” 

The door chimes ringing as Sam, our younger brother, walks through the door, Daniel quickly following behind. 

Daniel has practically been part of our family since we were kids, so he is treated like a brother. He and Sam went to school together and instantly attached at the hip, so he was at our house often throughout the years. When the time came, he chose not to go away for college, and I helped him get a job with me at the Shipyard. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a glamorous job, but it’s one of the better-paying options— at least it wasn’t a factory. 

“Okay, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, we come bearing gifts, and by that, I mean, I hope you like these coffees,” Sam announces as he makes his way to the bar, “black– because I texted both of you and neither replied, so it’s your fault.” 

“Some of us have jobs, Sam,” I said back.

Josh pulls out his phone, and I can see him click around for a second, “Oh yeah, there it is.”

Sam abruptly set the coffee on the bar in front of us with a shit-eating grin.

“Mental note, keep coffee creamer,” Josh mumbles and Sam holds a bag out to him before taking a sip.

“I didn’t forget your caramel cold foam whipped cream bullshit that you put in your coffee.”

Josh’s face lights up at the sight, “Wow, you do care about me,” putting on the dramatics per usual, “Also– I better not be Tweedle Dum.”

Sam let out a sinister laugh with an exaggerated shrug, “Guess we’ll never know!”

Since Sam got home from college, he’s been helping Josh and myself get everything done for the bar. Often, he’s reluctant or tries to make it seem that way. I can tell that he likes to be a part of everything. He’s been offering to take pictures of the bar. We have all the beer available, so we can post them on our Instagram, which I’m glad he understands is part of the business because I do not. 

“Thank you, Samuel,” I say. “Lucky for you, I always take my coffee black.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“I think if I have to look at another beer can today,” Sam starts, “I’ll lose my mind completely.” 

I giggle as I continue to track what we have in stock, “The worst is almost over, bud.” 

I’m sure opening the week of Thanksgiving seems like a terrible concept, and, to be frank- it’s overwhelming. I hope the six months of bickering with everybody will prove it was worth it.

“Hey, boss,” Daniel starts, “is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

I’m not exactly proud of how much he startled me. I should be more used to how quiet he is by now, but I don’t think I’ll ever be. 

“Jesus Christ,” I stop to process the question. “No, buddy, you can go home. It’s getting late, and we all probably could stand to get some rest before actually opening.” 

With no hesitation, I hear Sam ask from the other room, “Does that include me also?” 

“Yes, go home!” I shout over to him.

The door chime rings suddenly, causing Josh and me to laugh, walking over to find whatever he is working on. Carefully tapping the frame to ensure it’s centered on the nail, he looks incredibly focused. 

“We can also be done for the night,” I tell him, putting my arm around his shoulders. 

“Well, even better news, that was the last thing I needed to hang.” He says.

“You’ve outdone yourself, really.” I compliment him. 

Patting my hand a few times, he tells me, “Did it up just right, and it’s all for you, brother.”

We stare at each other silently for a second. 

“I’m just elated to see you finally going for your dreams.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Opening Night

The room glows in red from the neon signs we’ve hung, making everything feel real suddenly as I look at the locked door. We decided to open a little later in the day so the ambiance would be there. Also, who opens a bar on their first day at noon? 

“How are you feelin’?” Daniel asked, squeezing my shoulder to wake me up from my nervous state. 

“I’m not well.” 

He laughs at my response. “It’s going to be great, Jake.” 

I spent a moment trying to crack my knuckles before letting out the breath I had been holding. Listening to the quiet, jazzy riff that Sam is playing on the piano, tucked into the corner. 

“You think so?” turning to him for a bit of reassurance.

“Absolutely. I think you’re onto something great, buddy,” he tells me.

My hands shake as I turn the jukebox on for the first official time, hearing the music start playing throughout the bar; we all look at each other for a second with smiles plastered across all our faces. 

“Okay, it’s time,” I say as I turn the deadbolt. Seeing Josh pull the little chain on the ‘Open’ sign in the window makes my heart thump even louder. 

The moment feels like slow motion as the door opens, and it isn’t one of the four of us who have been working here. I had hardly taken two steps back when the chime went off. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” my mom gasps, stepping over the threshold, “This is wonderful.” 

She immediately pulls me into a hug; all my nerves disappeared in a simple gesture. 

“You did the damn thing, now didn’t ya bub?” Dad finally speaks up, giving me his signature side hug. 

Before I knew it, Josh was already toting our parents around the bar, showing them all the decor he was proud of finding. A few customers who weren’t family had started to trickle in and sit at the bar. 

“I actually made Jake meet me after work so he could help me pull this out of the dumpster,” Josh explains, louder than I wished he would. A collective “oooh” followed his statement, realizing that a handful of customers sitting close to the tour were also listening to him now. 

“I painted this for him,” he continues, pointing at his framed artwork. He’s always been artistic; his imagination was incredible.

 A miniature painting of Queen Anne’s Revenge sat in a gold frame. He’s always known that I love everything about pirates and their history. That was one of the first things he made for the bar when I told him I would officially buy it. 

“That’s beautiful,” our mom gasped, leaning in to look at the little details even closer. “You really did that, Sunshine?!” Her voice raises excitedly, causing even more customers to glance over. Covering my mouth with my hand, I try to contain the laugh. Josh really did turn into Mom over the years, huh? 

“You obviously know that Jake loves his pirates,”

“Oh, I sure do,” Mom says, “Remember when he would cry because his favorite pirate ship jammies needed to be washed?” 

“Alright, alright. Mum, we don’t need to bring it up,” I chime in, “ again,” shaking my head at the trip down memory lane.

My dad finally snuck away from the Grand Tour, found a seat at the bar, and started to make conversation with a few people. 

Glancing over to the door as it opens, Old Man Chuck strolls in, immediately making eye contact. He makes his way over to the corner stool at the bar. 

Without asking, I slide a beer over to him.

“Ya did a hell of a job, kid. Place looks wicked good,” he mumbles. 

“Thank you, Sir,” I matched his volume, “that one’s on me.” He gave me a subtle nod. 

Old Man Chuck wasn’t a man of many words, and I respected that. He took a chance to sell me the bar; I’ll always be grateful. It probably helps that I have spent plenty of nights here when he still owned it, but where else am I supposed to go when my apartment is only two floors above?

As the night goes on, people start trickling in. Living in Portland for so long, you realize everyone knows everyone. Considering we were rapidly approaching Thanksgiving, many people were home for the holidays and in need of a break from their families. 

I scan the bar to see if anybody hasn’t been tended to when I see Sam trying his hardest to converse with Chuck, and it’s not working. I walk over, touching his shoulder to get his attention.

“Sammy boy, can you just do a quick round and make sure everyone in the booths is good?” I quickly ask him.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” 

I watch as he makes his way to each table, collecting empty glasses and making occasional small talk with some of the groups.

“Everyone good over here?” I could hear him asking from behind the bar. 

Even though he would complain daily about helping out, I could tell he didn’t mind doing this part as much. I could never say to him because it would go straight to his head, and I’d never hear the end, but I’m incredibly proud of him. Poor kid hasn’t worked a day in his life, and I’ve been putting him through it for the last few months. 

“Oh, you sell things at the farmer’s market too?” he asks. “What’s your Instagram? I’ll follow you real quick!” 

He’s always been comfortable talking to people; he usually seems carefree. I’ve always admired how sure of himself he is. I don’t know if it’s the amount of time he spends outside or that he got a few years away from us, but he’s gotten much more comfortable with himself.

“So.. do you have a boy-“ 

All of that to say, he has absolutely no game with the ladies. 

“Hey bud, I told you to check on everyone,” I glance over at the girl and back at Sam, “not harass them.” 

“Jake, what are you doing?” he spits out, “I’m so sorry- uhh” 

I give him a quick double pat on the back and nod towards the bar. 

“Are you kidding? I was trying to–” Sam continues as I stroll behind the bar. “Do you actually hate me?” 

“You were not about to win her over, Sam,” I laugh. “She’s been making eyes at Daniel all night.” 

I watch him deflate, putting the dirty glasses he brought back in the bin beside me. 

“She doesn’t seem like your type anyway.” 

“And you know what my type is?” He questions with a smug look on his face. 

“She clearly wasn’t feisty enough to put up with your stubborn ass,” I quip back with a smile. 

Unimpressed with my response, he goes back to mingling with customers. I find myself watching him as he makes small talk. 

I probably shouldn’t step in on his attempts at flirting, but I could see that one imploding a little too quickly. 

I don’t have the best of luck with women myself. I haven’t been on a date in God knows how long. The bar has kept me so busy I don’t even consider it. There are too many things I need to think about constantly, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to do that to someone. 

Scanning the room, I notice a couple sitting together in one of the booths, his arm draped over her shoulders. The way she looks at him, gazing at him like he created the moon. Cradling his face with her tiny hand and pressing her lips to his cheek, a smile erupted across his face. Maybe one day.

“Come back to earth, honey,” followed by a few snaps, pull me out of my own world. 

“I’m sorry, Linda,” I laugh, “I’m happy to see you here.” 

Linda Graves, a sweet older lady, will quickly become one of our regulars. She runs a stand at our local farmer’s market and quickly became buddies with Sam. Her husband had recently passed when he first met her, but she was slowly making her way back out into the world. She’s an eccentric girl and, honestly, reminds me of Josh often. 

“Where’s the big guy?” she asks, making her bright red glasses bounce up and down suggestively. 

“You know he has a name–”

“I’m trying to play hard to get Jake. You’re supposed to be my wingman,” she whispers, gently smacking my arm,  “Did I use that right?”

Throwing my head back with a laugh, I said, “Oh god, you’re right!” 

Gesturing to Linda to give me one second, I find the man of her dreams, who is conveniently walking out of the bathroom as I turn into the hall. 

“I have a lovely little lady who would like to see you,” choking back the laugh. 

“Is it who I think it is?” Daniel asks, following me towards the bar, “Ahhh– there she is.”

He’s a good sport about most things, which is a refreshing outlook to have around, considering who my family is. 

“Hi there, beautiful,” he starts, and I watch her melt into a puddle over him. 

“Now, Lin, you know I’m gonna have to check your ID if you want to drink tonight.” He tells her with a little wink. 

“Oh, Danny. You make me feel so young,” Linda tells him. 

“What do you mean, sweetheart? You ARE young,”

“You cut it out now,” She giggles like a schoolgirl, “I look like a bag of bones. I think we both know I’m old.”

“You don’t look a day over 21.” He leans forward, holding himself on the bar. He knows exactly what he’s doing, making his arm muscles flex a little while he listens to her talk. I watch Linda taking little glances at his biceps while he talks. 

I see the towel he has sitting over his shoulder starting to slip, and I lean forward to catch it as it falls. Tossing it back over his shoulder, he gives me a slight nod since he is mid-sentence. 

“Good save,” Linda quips. 

“Thank you, thank you,” I send her a warm smile. 

I turn around immediately, bumping into Josh, his teeth on full display, giggling to himself. I haven’t seen him this happy in a while. 

“Having fun?” I ask. 

“Of course! I’m drunk!”

“I- uh- you’re what?” The panic lacing my voice is intense. 

“Jake,” he says while grabbing my shoulders, “I’m kidding.” 

Dropping my head back in relief that it was a joke, I’m disappointed I fell for it. 

“What a little shit you are,” I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.

“Who are you calling little? I’m five minutes older than you, bub.” He calls back over the music. 

I roll my eyes and walk off. He’ll never let that die. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Excuse me.” 

I turn around to find a petite older lady sitting at the bar.

“Oh, I’m sorry, how are you this evening?” I ask. 

“Well, it’s much better now,” she batted her eyelashes at me. 

“I’m so happy to hear,” I hold in a laugh, “What can I get you to drink?”

“Do you have any Moscato or Rieslings? 

I smile as she asks, “Of course I do. Hang on” 

Turning around to the fridge where we store our white wine, I giggle quietly. 

Looks like I’ve gained my own Linda.  

I grab a glass and turn back to her, setting the glass in front of her. 

“I don’t know if you know this..” I pause, “I’m sorry, I never got your name?” 

“Eleanor”

“Well, Eleanor, I save this specific bottle of Moscato for only the sweetest of girls,” I tell her as I pour the chilled wine into her glass. 

“Oh, you stop,” She bashfully waves her hand toward me. 

I glance at her with a smirk cemented across my face.

“Here you go, darling,” I slide the glass across the bar to her.

I give her a second to take a sip, and I can hear the quiet hum telling me that the wine is what she was hoping for. 

“Actually,” I start, “I’d like to introduce you to someone. I think you would get along a little too well.” 

I look over to Linda, who has taken a break from flirting with Daniel for a moment so he can get some work done. Waving her over, she grabs her bag and downs the rest of her drink before walking around to Miss Eleanor and me. 

“Linda, this is Eleanor.” I introduce them and watch as they start to make small talk. 

I found out that they both are into crafting and that Eleanor has been known to make the vases for the Flower Truck that goes to the Farmer’s Market.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Where are my boys?” Mom asks loudly. 

Somehow, we all heard her over the chatter of the bar. Sam was already closest to her, so he wrapped her up in a hug first. 

“I’m getting too old to be out this late, Buttercup,” she tells him.

“Ma, it’s only 10 PM,”

“I know, I know,” she says, patting his chest gently. 

Reaching out for Josh, who’s coming in hot for a hug. Wrapping her tightly and rocking her back and forth. 

“I love you,” Josh spoke with an inside voice. Something about our mom brought him down to earth. 

“Oh, I love you so much, Sunshine,” Mom leans back, holding him at arm’s length, “You did a fantastic job decorating.” 

“Thank you, Mama,” he mumbles, pulling her back for another hug. 

“Alright, where’s my extra son?” She looks around for a moment before making eye contact with Daniel. She waves him down, watching the smile creep onto his face as he approaches her. 

“Oh, my sweet little dumpling,” She has always had a soft spot for him, “I would never leave without a big hug from you.” She pulls him into a bear hug, rubbing his back a few times. 

“Missed you so much,” He can’t help the giggle that comes from him at the pet name he gained as a child. 

I stand there watching my brothers both say goodbye to our Dad, giving him quick hugs per usual. Dad was never one for the emotional situations, but he’s loosened up over the years. Looking over at me, he gestures for me to go to him. 

“I know we’ll see you guys in the morning,” he starts, looking down at the floor with his hands tucked in his pockets, “But I just want you to know. I really am proud of you, kid.” 

He looks back up at me, and his eyes look like they’re struggling to fight the emotion. 

“Thank you,” Without a second thought, I wrap my arms around him. 

He pats my back a few times before pulling away from the hug, “I can tell how much this place means to you, and I’m just so happy for you.” 

He points behind me, letting out a small laugh. 

I can hardly turn around before being bombarded by my mother. 

“I’m glad you made it for the opening night,” I whisper. 

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t miss this,” She whispers back, pressing a few kisses to my cheek, “Can’t tell you enough how proud I am,” 

I place a kiss on the side of her head, “I love you, Mum.”

I let Sam walk our parents out, returning to my place behind the bar. Happily watching Josh mingle with customers, it’s nice to see him existing in an environment that suits him. He just beams when he gets to be social and himself; Josh is much too loud and animated for his current job, and he needs something like this. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“We’ll be back for sure!” rings through the bar as the last patrons walk out. 

Pulling the doors shut and locking us in, I spin on my heels to face Josh, Sam, and Daniel. We all just stare at each other for a few seconds, even though it feels longer, and we cannot contain the laughter of disbelief. We did it… I did it. 

Josh quickly closes the distance between us, pulling me into a hug. Being twins has created a very different bond; he’s my best friend. I don’t think I would have had the courage to purchase the bar if it hadn’t been for him in my ear reminding me that I could do it. 

“I just want you to know that,” Josh starts, “I’m so proud of you, and I will always be here to help you, even if you don’t want to ask for it,” his voice shakes slightly. 

“Thanks, bub. I love you,” squeezing Josh one more time. I hope he knows I’m always ready to do the same for him. 

“I think this calls for celebration, don’t you?” Daniel asks, walking over to us holding beers. 

“Cheers!” I holler, raising my beer for everyone to join. We all share a well-deserved celebratory moment after the last six months. 

I grab a towel from behind the bar, walking back to one of the tables where Sam collects cans and glasses.

“Isn’t this what Dad used to play all the time in the car?” Sam asks while I’m wiping down the table. I listen a little more closely, realizing it’s absolutely one of our dad’s favorite songs. 

“I was a little too tall, could’ve used a few pounds,” 

We sing along as it plays, laughing hard as I whip Sam with the towel. He flips me off before walking away with a few glasses in his other hand. 

We all slowly cleaned and serenaded each other, which made us giggle like a bunch of little kids. 

“Workin’ on our night moves,” 

Josh sings dramatically, holding his half-drunk beer like a microphone. 

“Mmmm, in the sweet summertime”

This time, he leaned over to me so we could sing together, just like we used to as kids in the back seat. 

“We were just young, restless, and bored,” Daniel sings as he walks from the back room. 

Suddenly, the piano starts ringing through the bar, and we all find Sam playing along with the jukebox. I’ll let it slide since he was incredibly helpful today.

“And we'd steal away every chance we could

To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods.”

I finish gathering all the trash and tossing the bags near the back door. Josh still plugging away, cleaning all the glasses while serenading us all. 

“And I waited on the thunder,”  I sing, turning to point at Josh, knowing that he will absolutely know what to do next. 

As expected, Josh belts out the line, “Waited on the thunder.” he always had a way of making the entire room laugh. 

“When you just don't seem to have as much to lose.”

I prop open the back door to bring the trash out. A robust and crisp breeze envelopes me. It smells like it could snow.

“Strange how the night moves

With autumn closin' in” 

I take a deep breath. The cold air is refreshing after a long night. After tossing the trash, I walk back inside to the sound of hysterical laughter. The three of them bent over in a fit of giggles as they all yelled the backing vocals. 

“(Night moves) I remember, I remember, I remember, I remember.” 

In the moment, I think to myself, If you can’t beat em, join em. I drape my arm over Josh’s shoulders as I shout with them. Giving him a double pat on his chest as we all laugh together. 

“Alright, boys, let’s go home,” I tell them in my finest English accent. 

I make my way over to the door, holding it open for them to file through. I took one last glance over to make sure we took care of everything.

“I remember, I remember,” I sing under my breath, flipping the lights off.

Caravel Tavern Master Post | Masterlist | Taglist

Sparrow Of The Dawn Chapter One

Book 1 of the series; Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Taglist:

@gvfsstardust, @peaceloveunitygvf, @myleftsock,@imleavingyoufornewyork,@threadofstars,@mindastreamofcolours,@dont-go-home-without-me,@literal-dead-leaf,@lizzys-sunflower,@ourlovesdesire,@mackalah,@klarxtr, @edgingthedarkness, @i-love-gvf

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 22

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, allusions to attempted sexual assault, mentions of physical assault and Las Vegas' mafia past. Our flashback includes more discussion of condoms (wrap it before you tap it kids!) and some light shaft handling. Drunk sexual contact, please remember kids consent is murky at best when you're this intoxicated!

AN: Oh, and as a side note- fuck you to the rude anon in my inbox. That's all the attention I'm giving you *right now*. Posted early because fuck it, I've got my shit together this week! (I don't but I got *this* together at least)

Masterlist Kofi AO3

~~~~~<3

Tom hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss they shared. They hadn’t done anything else, just a series of searingly hot kisses that left him desperate for more but terrified to even suggest it followed by painful awkwardness that twisted at his guts.

Mia had slept most of Thursday before she had to get to work, exhaustion paired with a melatonin pill ensured she had a quick fall to dreamland. He had felt like a fool hovering nearby, fluttering in and out of the room for no reason other than to make sure she was still there. It was illogical, she couldn’t leave without walking through the living space where he was spending the time with Sally. It wasn’t like she was going to disappear into thin air. 

Never in his life was he so unsure how to say ‘good bye’ to someone when the time came though. His arms felt awkward as he wrapped her in them at the door, desperate to know if he had woken her during any of his trips into the room but terrified to ask. He wanted to kiss her goodbye as she lingered in his arms, looking up at him with a sweet smile but he didn’t. 

Coward. Yep, he was being a coward. He just needed a little more time to pull himself back together. 

Tom had texted Mia throughout the night, checking that most of his plans for Sally’s birthday were alright. He made a few calls and found a bakery that was able to make a small birthday cake in time. It cost extra to have it delivered in a cooler to keep it from melting in the desert heat but he didn’t care. The rest of his plans fell into place, one confirmation after the other, most approved in concept at least by Mia. 

Ashley had to work and wouldn’t be able to make tomorrow’s birthday party but stopped by earlier to drop off a few wrapped gifts. She had made it very clear that she still was unsure about Tom’s presence in their lives but this time went a little better. 

Sally eager to show off her new bear which helped. Ashley took her time as Tom made the child’s lunch to listen to everything she had been doing with her New Friend Tommy. They had played games together. Tom had been crowned as a certified Master of Pretend. 

Tom couldn’t fault Ashley’s weariness even after Sally’s tales. She had every reason to question him, though she did swing from hot to cold from what Mia had said. On one hand, she would scream for Mia to ‘get it’ and on the other hand, she was ready to stab Tom’s eyes out in a heartbeat if he crossed a line in her eyes. 

He could understand it though, he’d do the same for his sisters. 

~~~~~<3

Mia pulled into her parking spot at half past three in the morning. In the residential areas, the city fell into a peaceful sleep at night just as any other. Stepping out of the car, the day’s heat radiated up off the pavement, balanced by the ever so slight cool breeze the air carried. It had cooled significantly during the night but in just a few hours the sun would raise again and the sun will bring renewed heat. 

She expected to come home to a dark, silent apartment and that was alright. At least she didn’t have to pick up Sally form the sitter’s house and try to get her back to bed. At least there would be the comfort of another body in her bed. Maybe she would even indulge in cuddling up to his sleeping form for a moment before settling a respectable distance from him to go to sleep.

She had gifts wrapped and in the back of her car ready for Sally, purchased on her lunch break. The Las Vegas strip was known for a lot of things but the one thing she always thankful for was the variety of shops. It made for a convenient place to work with good food along with endless options of shops everywhere. 

She hated working these extreme late night shifts though. The tips were rarely worth it but everyone did their time on them. It was almost always the broke guests and the addicts that were on the casino floor after one in the morning. At least she didn’t need the tips to afford groceries anymore. 

Mia opened the door to a dimly lit apartment. Tom was sitting at the counter with a book in his hand. He looked up at her and smiled softly at her wide eyes. 

“You didn’t have to wait up,” Mia kept her voice low as she swallowed back the lump in her throat.

“I wanted to,” Tom set his book face down and Mia cringed for it’s spine as he got up. “How was work?” 

“Shitty,” Mia answered as she pulled off her heels. She wanted to take a shower and go to bed. 

“Did something happen or was it normal shitty?” Tom wrapped her up in his arms before he had a chance to second guess it. 

She was too tired to fight him, to try to deny him in order to protect her heart. All she wanted in the world was to take shelter in the arms of a man who cared for her, to be cared for. It had been so long since she could find safety in an embrace. 

Her eyes burned and at first she thought it was just exhaustion. Then she realized it was tears, threatening to spill over. Wrapping her arms around him, she clung to him, fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt as they dug into his back. Shaking breaths shuttered through her as she tried to will herself not to cry. 

“What’s wrong, Darling?”

Pulling away, she wiped her hands down her face. Make up probably smeared but she didn’t care. She was too tired to care. All she wanted to do was wipe away the evidence of how close she had come to tears. 

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly something,” Tom insisted, holding her hand in his as she stepped away from him. Worry was etched onto his face. “You can talk to me about it.”

“Just some drunk guy,” She tried to wave it off. It didn’t matter. Occupational hazard. It was just another drunk guy in Las Vegas. “Got a little handsy. Security kicked him out, probably kicked his ass. They don’t like it when people mess with us.”

“Nothing more?” Tom asked carefully. He didn’t want to invalidate her feelings but something in his heart told him it was worse than she was letting on. “Does that happen often?”

“More often than I’d like but not so often.” Mia swayed on her feet a little. “I want to take a quick shower than I need to sleep.” 

“Have you eaten?” Tom asked as he led her toward the bedroom. Their bedroom. 

“It’s fine. I just want to sleep.” 

~~~~~<3

 The fan whirled above her. Still the steam was thick as she mechanically washed herself, washing away the feeling of hands that didn’t belong. Makeup, perfume and smoke went down the drain along with her tears. 

Hot water ran over her as she replayed the last hour of her night again and again. 

~~~~~<3 ~~~~~<3

Mia’s feet hurt and she was ready to be done with the night. The floor was mostly dead, full of duds who would not be tipping and more often than not would take a break to get their own drink from the bar than have her fetch it and have to avoid eye contact when they failed to tip. 

Still, she did her job. 

The man she approached reeked of cigarette smoke. That was her least favorite part about the job, if she was honest. She, like many of the girls, would shower at the end of her shift before going home to avoid taking the stink into their personal cars whenever they could. 

“Can I get you a drink?” She asked sweetly. Usually she’d lean into the question but she didn’t want to be any closer to him than she had to be. Something was off about him. 

“I’d like a drink of you.” The man’s words were slurred, though he had no glasses around him. Likely he was high on some other substance. That wasn’t an uncommon or unique line. 

Mia laughed politely and kept her smile fixed on her face. “That’s not on the menu.” 

She walked away, not waiting to see if he was interested in some actual drink. The last thing she wanted was some man pawing at her or giving her his best complements. His complements would never match the complement of having Tom’s eyes on her. 

Thankfully, the shift was about done. Mia’s heels made soft thumps as she made her way down the hallway toward the employee lounge. She would shower, toss her dress in the steam cleaner while she did and be done with the night.

“What about what’s on the secret menu?” The slurred words made her blood run cold. 

“We don’t have a secret menu.” Turning around, she glued the smile to her face. 

He was closer than she had expected. Looking down the hallway, she hoped for someone, anyone who could help her. There was none.

“Don’t be like that, Baby.” The man grabbed her wrist and pushed her against the wall. “This is Vegas. Everything’s on the menu in Vegas.” 

“Let go of me,” She screamed as he grabbed her breast. 

Thrashing and kicking, she tried to get away. Instead of putting distance between them, it just made the man angrier and drew him closer. His hand clamped down over her mouth, muffling her cries. 

It all happened so quickly, spanning just a few short seconds in reality before security was on him. He was ripped off of her harshly. Without his pressure against her body, she fell in a heap to the floor. 

Security had certain limitations as to what amount of force they could use during any given situation. Every single one of those limitations went out the window when one of ‘their girls’ was messed with. 

It was moments like this that anyone working on the strip could see beyond the shiny lights and legitimate face to what had once been a mafia institution. While the mafia had lost their grips on the glittering city a long time ago, some things were ingrained in the very existence of the city.

One of those things was the simple rule- if you touched one of their girls outside of their job description and without their consent you would, without hesitation, get your ass beat. 

This man learned that you could never truly take the Mafia out of Las Vegas. 

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

Knocking on the bathroom door brought her out of her head. “Mia?”

“I’m okay.” Answering like that wouldn’t do anything but raise suspicion but the words were out before she could stop them. 

“I hope I didn’t overstep but I’ve brought you some clothes to sleep in.” Tom hesitated for a moment. “I can set them just inside, on the counter with my eyes closed or if you’d rather, I can set them outside the door for you.” 

“The counter is fine.” Mia was too tired to care if he closed his eyes or not. 

The door opened slowly and she watched Tom’s long arm reach in, gripping a oversized tee shirt and a pair of soft pants from the clean laundry pile she hadn’t gotten around to putting away yet. 

“I’ve got a can of soup heating on the stove, in case you change your mind about eating.” Tom was quite for a moment before speaking up again. “I think maybe it’s a bit worse than someone grabbing your arse. You don’t have to tell me but I want yo- need you to know that you didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t right, whatever happened.”

The door clicked shut again and she was alone. “Stop doing that.” She whispered in the steamy room. “Stop making it hard not to love you.” 

That was a thought she needed to spend more time with. Right now she couldn’t bring herself to dwell on it though. 

Shutting off the water, she quickly dried and dressed. She couldn’t think about falling in love with Tom.. It was enough that he was there right now when she needed him. 

~~~~~<3

She had insisted that she wasn’t hungry but when the steaming bowl of canned soup was placed in front of her, she couldn’t deny it. Both her and Tom’s bowls were shallow, the meal being more meant as a single serving than to be shared but that was okay. 

Mia needed to eat, she couldn’t argue that but she had no desire to. Robotically, she ate the soup one bite at a time. Tom kept his hand resting high on her back, ready to catch her if she fell over but being careful to not cross any boundaries she may have put up.

Tom took the bowls and rinsed them once they were empty. Standing from her stool, she wobbled on her feet. The mental and emotional exhaustion had stolen from her all the preparation they had put in the night before. 

He was quick to her side, clearly worried that she would just fall over where she stood. “Let me carry you?” 

“I can walk.” She was so goddamn tired. 

“Yes, you can. But let me carry you.” She leaned against him rather than argue. Tom swept her up in his arms rather than argue with her anymore about it.

His heart hurt for her. It had happened quickly but he cared deeply for her already. Knowing she had gone through something that left her hurt to her core shook him. She was a strong, vibrant flower who could withstand anything. Yet tonight, she came home wilted. 

He wanted to tell her to quit her job right that night but Tom knew she wouldn’t agree to it. And if he was honest, he also knew that he wasn’t prepared to support two households single handedly. He had made a nice sum with Thor but his current contract for The Avengers was still in the final stages of negotiations. 

He had worked a lot during this year and was expecting that to continue through the following year but the idea of counting on money he hadn’t had in his pocket just yet made him nervous. 

He could do it, he could make it work. It would be tight and he’d be looking at ways to earn a little extra to ensure he wouldn’t step into debt to cover an unexpected expense or trip. Now wasn’t the right time to make the suggestion again though, he knew that. 

In this moment his wife didn’t need him to try and change her life, she needed her husband to offer her strength and support.

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

Tom groped in his nightstand for a condom. Focus was hard to come by as she caressed his member, hand soft and warm. He knew he had a condom in the nightstand somewhere, he had them just in case, though he hadn’t planned on needing them. 

“Found it.” He was reckless as he ripped it open. 

She took it from him and rolled the thin plastic sleeve down his shaft slowly. They needed to hurry, he wasn’t in a position to take his time. Stamina was never something he had really need to worry about before but with how drunk he was, he knew his ability to perform could die at any moment. 

Tom rolled over onto her swiftly, kissing her as if she had the secrets of the world hidden in her mouth. Reaching down between them, he ran his fingers up and down her slit.

She was soaking wet and ready for him. That was good, he didn’t have much reason to wait than. 

“My darling Sunflower, are you ready for me?” 

~~~~~<3

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Leave me a note with your thoughts! Comments and reblogs both are loved. Pay attention to me? I'm a needy plant…

[chirpsythismorning]

Idk what’s worse, the fact that there are milkvans out there that believe El commissioned Will’s painting, or that a majority of milkvans believe she didn’t, but still think everything Will said to Mike in the van scene applies to how El feels about Mike as well. And honestly, how could they not? Mike looked very happy and emotional hearing Will's words in the van... no shit they're hoping that's how El feels.

But El never called Mike the heart. El never said she needed Mike and always will. Those words coming from Will's feelings for Mike, then being used to inspire Mike to give his monologue to El, was disingenuous bc it was never El’s feelings being responded to in the first place.

‘It only works if it comes from you’

That’s the whole problem. It didn’t work bc it was coming from Will, not El.

IF everything Will said applied to El, why not have it come from her?

No, but seriously??

Is s5 just going to open up to El apologizing to Mike for ignoring him after the monologue, followed by her just repeating everything Will said with her own twist and Mike being like cool!! That works for me!

The problem with making the narrative choice to instead focus on Will's feelings at the forefront, only to follow it up with El's identical feelings, does nothing but make the whole thing fall flat.

Instead of seeing this main couple voice their love for each other themselves, I gotta have her brother do it for her?? And only then after he does it, can I see her do it in like a 2.0 version of sorts????

So many milkvans are willing to acknowledge that Mike and El’s dynamic throughout the series is riddled frivolous conflict more than anything, with little to no time dedicated to showing the development that actually matters. They say they wish the show spent more time with them actually face to face acknowledging how they both feel verbally without the constant cloud of some other third party interfering, causing them to have issues. They say that this time though, they think the Duffers will magically pull through for them and go from what they believe is shitty writing to ‘good’ writing, based in terms of how they'll handle Mike and El's relationship in s5...

But that's not realistic on any front, milkvan, byler or otherwise.

And that's a big part of the problem, bc they know the pacing has not been great for them, and they NEED the show to just give them Mike and El so they can be happy, but that's not how you build up suspense for a love story. And dragging out Mike and El any more, would just be a repeat of every other season before. They reached their peak and so they can only down from here. That's kind of the whole point.

One thing to note is that the Duffers always create conflict for the incompatible couple early in a season, so that the audience doesn’t feel too uncomfortable with the idea of considering the other option that’s at the forefront for the rest of the season.

This will ESPECIALLY be the case for byler, bc Will already has home wrecker allegations as it is. And it's also a highly controversial queer ship, and so people are going to be making claims left and right that it’s wrong bc of xyz.

They just wont be able to have byler scenes loaded with romantic tension all season long, more than any other season, and with the story making it more obvious they want us to root for them, while also having Mike and El still be together. And it's simply bc the reality is the Duffers have a record of doing the complete opposite of that.

This is also endgame territory, so there is a serious pressure on the writers part to get their audience to be closer to rooting for byler than denying it even being possible. Meaning they NEED the audience to be watching their first kiss and, for better or worse, be thinking, FINALLY just get it over with already!

Also what's El's supposed to be up to while this is happening? Are we assuming she's just stringing along waiting for Mike to get his shit together? Like Jesus!

El has every right to say her piece and get that shit over with, by episode 1 or 2 at the latest. She could be a focused on Max and her family and friends, which if you'll note also includes Mike and Will, but instead this time without the pressure of her having to hope that something will turn around and suddenly Mike will decide he finally loves her... She doesn't deserve that.

Byler is clearly the route they are taking. If that is the plan, it's time to make this separation so that the audience is finally confronted with viewing Mike and El without the constant rose tinted love at first sight goggles, and instead give them a chance to be their authentic selves.

And I think El, being a character that could barely speak in s1, that her not getting her own voice in this situation is fucking serious. El not being able to say those words to Mike herself, like there's a reason for that. And so when she finally does get to say how she feels, there isn't going to be any room for subtext or misunderstanding, not on the audiences part nor Mike's. El has always been pretty clear about what she wants and I think that will apply in s5 now more than ever.

[thirstyforcharacters]

Healing

Part 3 of the Mistakes Series

Part 1: Mistakes. Part 2: Reconnection

Summary: The past repeats itself, but Joel refuses to make the same mistake twice.

Warnings: angst!! canon typical violence, brief description of gunshot wound, Joel is finally getting good at emotions :)

WC: 1279

Notes: Hellooooo! I wasn’t sure if I was going to write a part 3, but I was inspired, so I wrote the entire thing this morning! Finally, we get to the fluffy stuff, but of course I still had to sprinkle in some angst! This is definitely the last full installment of the series, but I wouldn’t mind writing some blurbs and whatnot about these two, so if you still want to see this pairing, you can totally send me some requests for that :) or if you just want to send requests in general, feel free to do that as well! thank you all so much for reading this series: I’ve never written this much angst before, so I was afraid it wouldn’t turn out well, but I’m super thankful that you all enjoyed Mistakes!!!

PS: anything in italics is a flashback :)

Things were awkward for a while.

You didn’t feel as though you could fully trust him yet. You were too afraid of him hurting you again. But you adored Ellie, and because Ellie insisted upon you coming over and sharing her stack of comic books, Joel slowly became a more consistent figure in your life again. As spring became summer, you learned to trust him more. You told him about your solo travels, how you had taken out a raiding party single handedly and survived more than one encounter with Infected. He opened up to you as well, telling you the tale of how he and Ellie came to Jackson just a few months ago. You really felt for him: the things they had been through were terrifying, and you could see how much the two had grown to care for each other throughout their journey. And seeing the way Joel loved Ellie gave you hope. That maybe he could love you and not shut you out.

Little did you know that that theory would be tested sooner than you expected.

The two of you were paired up for patrol often (which Tommy said was because “you’re one of the only people he tolerates in this town, and I need a break sometimes.”), and today was no different. You were trudging along the craggy mountain path, stepping over long, broken branches, dodging wildlife, and trying not to make too much noise. During this part of the patrol, you always walked in silence, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. There would be time for talking once you got to the safehouse, a cabin that you were now about halfway to.

The silence was broken by a gunshot. You barely remembered what happened next.

You collapsed to the ground, pressing your hand to your stomach as it became coated with red.

Joel couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe as he saw you fall. He could only think of the first time.

“Sweetheart, please.”

His pleas fell upon deaf ears. Your eyes had fluttered shut as you lost consciousness, unable to reply.

“JOEL!”

Tess’s shout was the only thing that pulled him from his own head. He had never moved so fast, scooping you up without a second thought and sprinting after Tess, carrying you the entire way to Bill and Frank’s without rest.

“Y/n will be okay, Joel,” Tess assured him, “Frank will take care of things.”

Joel nodded, barely hearing as he ran. He needed you. Holy shit, he needed you. More than he needed anyone else in this god-forsaken hellscape. He loved you too much.

He shook it off, seeing the concealed figures through the bushes. He saw red, going after the raiders with a rage he had only felt a few times. When Sarah was shot. When he killed an entire warehouse of Fireflies for Ellie. And now, for you.

The raiders had no chance. They dropped like flies under Joel’s thunderous fury, with knives sunk into their stomachs, gunshots to their hearts, and fists breaking in their faces until they could speak no more. When they were all dead, the threat of any danger to you taken care of, he ran to your side, seeing your eyes were already closed.

“Shit,” he hissed, quickly tearing off strips of his shirt to tie around you and attempt to staunch the bleeding, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Not fuckin dying on my watch.”

He picked you up, not unlike the first time, as he ran to Jackson. The year and a half between the first time he did this and now was affecting him: his legs burned and his breaths were ragged. But he didn’t stop. Not for a goddamn minute. He needed you.

It felt far too long before he saw the towering, wooden gates to the town, which swung open almost immediately as the gatekeepers saw the scene before them. Joel sprinted down the streets, carrying your limp body to the infirmary.

The doors burst open as Dr. Casey and two nurses saw Joel, frantically looking around with you in his arms.

“Raiders,” was all he could get out, but they understood.

“Here,” the doctor said as calmly as she could, gesturing toward a table, “we’ll get the bullet out and stitch Y/n up. Don’t worry.”

Joel grit his teeth. Don’t worry? How in the absolute hell was he supposed to do that? But he didn’t say a thing as Dr. Casey got to work. He trusted the doctor fully: she was one of the few people who actually was a doctor before everything went to shit, so she knew what she was doing. But he was terrified. He just got you back, and he could lose you again.

One of the nurses, Allen, who had been there when you were first brought to Jackson, looked at him and said, “Joel. Y/n will be okay. We promise.”

He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as the door swung open again.

It was Ellie, who for once, didn’t speak. She just gently took Joel’s hand and led him to their home. And he broke down, holding one of his girls as he cried for the other.

It was a few hours before a knock sounded as his door.

It was Allen, who had a soft smile on his face.

“Y/n’s fine. Lost a decent bit of blood, so she’s still weak. But she’s okay. Do you want to se-”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence as Joel bolted past him in the direction of the clinic.

Ellie giggled, “Sorry, he’s just excited. So I’ll thank you for the both of us.”

Allen nodded, smiling a little wider, “Whole town thought he’d be a grump forever. But having both of you in his life seems like it’s helping.”

She smiled, “It’s not just helping him.”

The door to the infirmary burst open again, but with a much different purpose. You were in the corner. You were bandaged and pretty beat up, but you were alive. You and Dr. Casey looked up at the sound of the wooden doors banging against the wall. You couldn’t help the fond smile that made its way onto your features as a blur of a black flannel and blue jeans burst onto the scene, wrapping you up into his tight embrace.

“I’ll leave you alone,” the doctor whispered before disappearing into a back room.

“‘M okay, Joel,” you murmured, your voice muffled into the fabric of his shirt, “you saved me. I’m okay.”

Hearing your voice confirm the very words he needed to hear allowed him to catch his breath.

“Thought I lost you again,” he said, gripping your shirt with calloused hands.

You shook your head, “Didn’t lose me.”

He pulled away, gently cupping your face in his hands. You could see the wetness beginning to gather in his eyes.

“I-” he swallowed hard, “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you assured him, “I won’t leave you.”

There was still a bit of fear in you. There was still a chance of him pushing you away as soon as you were healed. You were terrified of that possibility.

But any fear you had immediately washed away as his lips pressed to yours. It was years in the making, and the way you felt when you connected made you wish it had happened years ago. He cupped your face so delicately, and his lips mirrored the softness of his hands, kissing you so tenderly you could cry.

It ended too soon, Joel pulling away to whisper, “I’m not leaving you, either. Ever again.”

And you knew it was safe to believe him.

[minkkumaz]

IGNITING OUR LOVE

deciding to give each boy a chance, you fueled their need for friendly competition. between woonhak and jaehyun, they both put on a show to see who impresses their lady the most. however even after going on a proper date with each boy, there's something you're still unsure about. RACE TO YOUR HEART series

PAIRING woonmyungz x fem!reader WC 5.4k TAGS adults dni. racecar driver au. no poly relationship. mentions of toxic relationship. fluff. seperate dates. lowk crackfic. very unserious at times. kidnapping jokes. TAGLIST @skullverse OMI NOTE this turned out way fucking longer than i anticipated it to be omg. this is like a summer with you all over again. (it'll get worse as time flies by.. i have a few long ones up my sleeve)

fiddling with the hem of your skirt, you waited on the curb of your culdesac for a familiar boy to drive down the road. it had been two weeks since woonhak and jaehyun initially asked you out on a date. they maneuvered the timing around one another, leaving you with woonhak today and jaehyun tomorrow. 

there was an unfamiliar feeling in your chest, exploring into the deepest depths of your heart. so sweet it could give you cavities, yet sour enough to make you flinch. it wasn’t everyday you went on back to back dates. but in a way, you were somehow thriving. everything got so much easier when you started opening up more, so you became positive that tonight would be fun, as well as the following day.

as you waited, you remembered back to the phonecall you had with your friend explaining every little detail to her. how they found you that day, and how you decided to spend the next with them, only for both boys to ask you out on a day. shocked was an understatement, she almost flipped her shit in the best way possible. despite the undying love she had for woonhak, she was considerate of your feelings and thought it was ‘cupid blessing you with love.’

a blessing in disguise, yet as the clock ticked you became queasy. peaking over the houses at the end, a car drove into your neighborhood that you didn’t recognize. you weren’t expecting woonhak to show up in his race car, so you kept your hopes high that it was.

the window rolled down, revealing the smiley boy that you were expecting to see. he was dressed casually, with a sweater vest over a plain white tee and some jeans. the outfit you were wearing was just a plain skirt with a shirt, so you were thankful that he went casual as well.

“hey! you look– you look really cute!” he spoke out the window, clicking the button to unlock the door to the front seat.

“thank you..!” you blush, buckling yourself in, “um i don’t think you told me where we were going yet? you’re not going to kidnap me are you?”

“oh my gosh– of course not! i probably should’ve asked before, but that’s just my terrible planning. are you okay with roller coasters? or just amusement parks in general?” hints of worry lace his tone, but you nod in response.

“i don’t mind them at all! i’ll try everything for the first time so, don’t even give it a second thought!” you smile softly.

“perfect. i promise you’ll have fun!” he steps on the gas, carrying the two of you out of your neighborhood and towards the destination.

“i don’t doubt that for a second.” 

the car drove smoothly against the road, every house and building passing by into a colorful blur. everything about the atmosphere was calming, a playlist running quietly in the background to ease your thoughts. 

a comfortable silence washed over the two of you. no words were spoken, but it was nice. woonhak moved his hand over the dial to turn up the volume on the song that was currently playing. the volume stays stable throughout the rest of the car ride.

when you guys pulled into the busy parking lot, all of the rides looked much larger in person, making your eyes go big. there were long, colorful rollercoasters, as well as dropper rides, and ones that would swing around in circles. 

“excited? my favorite is that one right there!” woonhak leans over the center console to point at one of the rollercoasters.

“you’ve been here before?” you question, looking at his face which is only inches from yours. 

taken aback, he quickly pulls away, “oh– yeah! i actually came here with my friend taesan not too long ago, but it was super packed so we couldn’t get on that one..”

“hope– hopefully the line isn’t super long! we should go!” you stutter out shyly. 

“yeah, let’s!” he rushedly opens the door as you do as well, getting out of the car.

“do we need to purchase tickets at the front?” you ask, walking alongside him to the entrance.

“i already bought them so we just need to go through and have the person scan them.” he hands you a piece of paper with a barcode on the side.

“okay, cool! i’ll pay you back when i get home!”

“are you serious, i’m not letting you pay for anything today! it’s all on me, okay?” he insists as you near the entrance.

“what?! these tickets are probably expensive, it’s only right i pay you back.” you furrow your eyebrows, and he just ruffles your hair.

“i’ll block your number if you try to send me money, it’s my day to treat and get to know you more.” he argues, not taking no for an answer.

“you suck, i’m paying next time.” you give in, flattening your hair.

“are you already planning for our next date?” he smiles joyfully.

“what– no! well i mean? shut up!” you groan, “i’m not just go on a strike from hanging out with you, it doesn’t have to be a date!”

“i’m still going to be delusional tonight and tell jae you said that.”

“you’re already insufferable.” you joke, entering through the gates of the amusement park behind him.

while there was a lot of people, it was nothing according to woonhak. the sun was bright on your face, making you thankful that you wore sunscreen. there was a multitude of activities to do, as well as some fair - esque games.

despite it being bright out, the different colored lights on the rollercoasters and booths were still prominent. you were impressed by how nice this park was, having not been to it before. woonhak held out a hand to you , scratching the back of his neck nervously. you gingerly accept, remembering the only other time you held hands with him was very sudden, with less romantic intent.

he intertwines his fingers with yours, leading you around and pointing at different things the two of you together. though you said you didn’t have much of a preference, he wanted to find something you enjoyed. in the end, you decided on some bumper cars that didn’t have much of a line.

“i can just never escape driving, can i?” he lets out an exaggerated sigh, clipping in his seatbelt like the operator told him to.

“you said you’d do whatever i wanted to!” 

“i’m kidding, i just want you to have fun!”

“then let me have my fun by pushing you into a wall.” you smile, moving your car backwards before pressing the gas forward to push woonhak.

“hey! you’re not going to get away with that!” he yells as you scurry away.

the two of you chase after each other in your cars, the bumpers becoming worn out from colliding with one another. laughter fills the mini arena. the antenna on the back of your vehicle shook every time he came in contact with you.

however, the fun was short lived as you had a time limit to ride, before giving up your spot to the next person. that idea never stopped either of you from having a lot of fun.

“i– i can’t breathe oh my gosh you kept making me laugh!” you pant.

“it was my number one distraction technique.” he brags, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders.

“yeah but you probably gave me whiplash, so you’re paying for my surgery.” you shove his side lightly.

“are we going to pretend like you didn’t knock me into tomorrow?! how am i supposed to drive when i can’t even move my head ninety degrees!” 

“you’re dramatic, i’m not as strong as you are!”

“bro we were in cars? it doesn’t even matter if i’m stronger than you.” he rolls his eyes before instinctively putting an arm around your shoulder.

the action made you feel small against him, immediately shutting up your friendly bickering. he pretended not to notice, but was fearful that you were uncomfortable with him. was it too sudden? should he have given you a high five or something?

in an attempt to move his arm away, he taps lightly on your skin to play it off. what he didn’t expect was for you to raise your hand up to his and place it atop, stopping him from moving away. a smile appeared on his face as he continued walking with you through the large crowds.

you admired the scenery around you, woonhak watching your eyes dart to anything and almost everything. a pallet of different smells combined together and waffed in and out of your nose. looking at all of the different booths and food stands, your eyes light up upon seeing an arrangement of ice cream flavors on a big sign.

“a little birdie is telling me that ice cream sounds pretty good right now.” woonhak meets your gaze as you try to hold back your excitement.

“that little birdie and i have something in common, i think we might be twins. maybe soulmates?” you grin as he walks the both of you over to the line.

“on second thought, that was my original idea and i take full credit for it!”

“sorry woon i’m only into birds now.”

“fumbling to a bird is somehow worse than to jaehyun.” 

“ouch, you gonna take that kim woonhak?” 

“don’t hit me up, i’m too busy trying to decide what i want out of these thirty different flavors” he puts his free hand up to your face, and you only punch his palm lightly in return.

“speaking of flavors, that snickers one actually looks really good.” you say, drooling at the thought.

“woah! they have a rainbow flavor..?” he points out, sounding more like a question.

“have you never had rainbow sherbert before?” you wonder out loud.

“no, sorry, i don’t fuck with eating frozen unicorn shit.” he says blankly, but immediately smiles after.

“you’re missing out it’s kind of peak.” 

“then how about you get it and i’ll try some of yours?” he holds out his hand.

“fine, i suppose i’ll take one for the team so you can try your stupid rainbow sherbert.” you kick pretend rocks, before shaking his hand.

once you get up to the window, woonhak orders the ice cream for the both of you. he ends up ordering rocky road, while you get the rainbow sherbert for him to try. you can see the soft ice cream dispensing from the machine behind the worker. 

after waiting patiently, but not for too long, two cups of the fresh dessert you were yearning for was placed in front of you with a spoon and a ‘have a good day!’ you and woonhak thanked the worker and searched around for a place to sit. a shaded spot that wasn’t very busy was decided on, so you both sat down next to one another.

“okay, be ready to have your life changed!” you inform woonhak, dipping your spoon into a corner of the ice cream. 

“are– are you going to feed it to me?” he asks, blush washing over his cheeks.

“i was going to but um– if you don’t want me to i don’t have–”

“no! it’s fine. you’re fine. i mean– ah?” he gives up on stumbling over his words, gaping his mouth open slightly for you to deliver the soft treat to him.

“yo, you might be right. unicorn shit isn’t half bad!” he jokes.

“woonhak you need to get a grip before i ditch you on this date.”

“hey! you love hanging out with me! don’t deny it.” he frowns, licking any excess ice cream from his lips.

“okay maybe you got me, but i’ll leave in a heartbeat.” you fake threaten, watching him become smiley again.

“you know, i’m surprised you went through with this whole date in the first place.” he commented, “you’re too pretty to be single..”

“well, i wasn’t exactly single. didn’t jaehyun tell you?” you could of swore he already knew about your ex.

“not a single word!”

“shit uh.. you see when mommy and daddy love each other, but things don’t go exactly as planned–”

“bro i’m not that much younger than you, a few months at best!” he complained, watching you giggle at his reaction.

“okay okay, i did date someone in the past. and he kind of fucked me up like, really bad? i don’t think i gave jae the full sob story but..” you explain, the change in your tone becoming evident, “he was very manipulative, and i stuck through every little bullshit story he plotted into my head. there was no way he actually loved me, more like the idea of me. so two months later, and boom i’m at this race trying to get my head in the game.”

“like troy bolton?” his question raises your mood slightly.

“yes, like troy bolton.

“i’m so fucking sorry you had to go through that, there’s no way he deserved someone as funny and kind as you. it’s his loss.” woonhak shrugged, moving his hand slightly closer to yours until your pinkies touched.

“nah, don’t mention it. everything is finally starting to get better. and not to be sappy or anything, but you and jae have been such awesome people to hang out with. definitely made the process a lot smoother in the end.” you sigh, trying to shake off the depths of the conversation you were having.

“i’m um.. i’m glad you trust me enough to tell me these things. i’ll always be here, you know?” he mumbles, almost coming out like a whisper. despite the large crowds amongst you, it felt like it was only you and woonhak in that exact moment.

“thank you, woon. you’re sweet.” you compliment him, taking a portion from your ice cream to try it on your own. 

“you kind of missed your mouth a bit.” he laughs.

he moved his hand to the corner of your lip, gently wiping off whatever you had gotten on your face. his touch lingers for a moment too long. you already begin to feel the heat building up in your cheeks, something you haven’t felt in quite awhile.

woonhak had always been very gentle with you besides his chaotic persona. both jaehyun and woonhak have. and for the two weeks they’ve known you, you could tell that they thrived on taking care of others, especially each other; even whenever things got a little crazy in the group chat you had formed with the two of them. that’s what you admired most about their dynamic, nothing was too serious.

when he pulled his hand away from your lips, you missed the touch of his hand against your face. he tried to brush it off with a nervous chuckle, going back to the dessert in front of him. it was like nothing had happened, but the burning sensation in his chest showed that everything happened.

the rest of the day with woonhak continued like normally. there were a numerous amount of things for the both of you to do, and it felt like you got around to a decent amount of it. your feet hurt from walking around so much, but it was all worth it in the end. 

going on large scary rides that you were intimidated by, just to have the time of your life, eating so many sweets til your stomach hurt, and watching the fireworks light up the sky into a beautiful portrait of sparks. each second spent next to woonhak made you forget about every other worry, every other little thing. it was a sweet date the two of you shared, and you wouldn’t take it for granted.

but the hole in your stomach was no secret, because as you sit in woonhak’s car while he drives you home, you became scared for the date you’d have with jaehyun. was it so terrible to share such a meaningful time with woonhak, and share something so similar with his best friend the next day?

it was difficult to believe they were okay with this, and you still didn’t understand just quite. though you tried your very best to think on the bright side of things. you’d have just as much fun with jae and whatever he had planned, and it was okay if you felt strongly over one date than the other. because at the end of the day, you had to pick.

the sudden halt of the car brought you back to earth, woonhak putting his car in park and looking over to you. street lights from outside barely illuminated the expression on your face, but he knew that you were beautiful.

“today was really great, y/n. thank you for letting me take you out.” he murmured, not wanting to let you leave just yet.

“no, thank you. i really enjoyed myself, you made everything perfect.” you assure him, letting one of your hands rest on the door handle, and the other in your lap.

“text me photos and everything later, okay?”

“got it. i’ll see you later woon.” you tell him goodbye, stepping out of his car into the coolness of the night. before you start walking away, you hear the window roll down.

“do me a favor, please?” he yells out to you, making you turn your head, “have fun with jae tomorrow, i’ll be waiting for you.”

you could only nod in response before he begins to drive back down your street and out of your view. the tired in your eyes became evident as you walked up to your porch, unlocking your front door to bask in the comfortability of your home. 

whatever was in store for you tomorrow, you didn’t want to think about it for now. because in your dreams for tonight, it was only you and woonhak.

when you woke up in the morning to greet the world, it had selfishly turned its back on you. it was not in fact sunshine, rainbows, and butterflies, but in fact just the deathly sun burning you like an stove in your own bedroom. today was significantly hotter than it had been yesterday, but it was all in fun of the summer. what that told you initially was that today was going to be interesting.

you hurried yourself to get ready, slipping on an outfit that would help you battle the humid weather. a lot of things ran through your mind like wild fire as you prepared for your second date. the buzz of your phone getting notifications vibrated your vanity. finishing up as soon as you could, you sent jaehyun a message to let him know you were on your way outside.

similar to yesterday, you genuinely had zero clue what he had planned. there were only so many date ideas you could think of off the top of your head, only increasing your curiosity as you stepped down the stairs. you checked your appearance quickly on your phone before heading out the door, seeing his car parked right in front of your house.

“jae!” you wave, as he unlocks the doors for you to let yourself in.

“hi, y/n! you look really pretty, hard to find a good outfit for the weather?” he grins at you, starting to drive as soon as you’re all situated.

“can you imagine? my wardrobe is built for winter so i tried my best. guess i pulled it off then.” you replied, excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. 

“i can always get my friend taesan to customize you some pieces if you’re ever running low on something for your wardrobe. he’s really talented so me and woon are always wearing his stuff.” he takes one hand off the wheel to point to his shoes that looked painted.

“those do look cool! might have to cop me a pair.. is taesan free tomorrow?” you joke as jaehyun just rolls his eyes dramatically.

“hey man, this is our date, let me gatekeep you just for today!” he whines.

“our date, yet i’m your man?” you quirk up an eyebrow, stifling your laughter.

“i don’t judge, woonhak is basically my man baby in disguise.” 

“myung jaehyun you are absolutely foul with these woon - baby jokes, he complained about them all day yesterday and i could not stop laughing.” you cross your arms, pretending to be serious.

“i can’t help it! he’s my baby and i stand by that until i die.” he responds, twisting and turning down the road.

“oh by the way, where are we going? you never really told me anything in our texts?” you remember to ask him.

“right! i wanted to keep it a surprise, so you’ll see when we get there.” he winks.

“god, it’s me again. is this how i get kidnapped and tied up in a basement where i’m lead to my ultimate doom?” you pray out loud, earning a chuckle from the boy next to you.

“i’m not going to steal you away, we’re almost there anyways.” he points in the direction of a large building, “see, it’s right there!”

“jae.. is that an aquarium?”

“they have games there too.”

“be right back i need to text woonhak that i’m emotionally unavailable for the rest of my life.”

jaehyun flashed you another smile, glad that you’re content with his choice of date. it was a secret to you that he was panicking last minute the night before. why did every remotely cool place have to be closed off for that specific day?

he pulled the car into a parking space closest to the entrance, though it wasn’t long before you were leaping around with excitement. your bag gently hit against your hip as you walked up ahead of him with a pep in your step. jae quickly pulled out his phone and took a couple instagram - worthy photos that he’d send to you later.

blue lighting immediately fell over the two of you like a comfy blanket, a numerous amount of fish able to be spotted from where you were standing. you stood awe - struck at the colorful water creatures that float around in their tanks while jaehyun paid for tickets.

“okay, what do you want to do first?” he hands you a ticket that you put in your pocket.

“can we go check that out? i don’t know what it is but it looks huge and i kind of want to pet it.” you move your arm into the crook of his, intertwining them together so you can lead him where you want to. 

“let us run wherever thee wants, you can take thou wherever you please, madam.”

“sorry shakespeare i want jaehyun back so i can talk to him about these cute fishies.” you frown.

“my bad that slipped out. i do that sometimes whenever my friend leehan talks about fish! i honestly wouldn’t be surprised if hes lurking around here somewhere..” he looked around suspiciously.

“you have some very interesting friends from what i’ve heard.” you think to yourself.

“don’t get any ideas or else you’ll hurt my feelings.” he purses his bottom lip.

“eww don’t do that in front of the fish, they’ll think you’re mocking them!” you point to a pink one swimming around, “look at this one! i think it’s crying.”

“underwater?”

“yes, underwater. you can tell it’s eyes are glossy.”

“..underwater?”

“i’m going to leave your ass in the dirt, jaehyun. let me live my teenage girl life looking at bright pink fish that i’m headcanoning with emotions.” 

“you are actually the cutest person ever.” he sighs, looking closely at whichever little straggler you were staring at.

“hh–” you look away from the tank, blushing at his sudden compliment.

“i like this one.” he points at an extremely puffy fish.

“aw, it looks like it just had a hardy meal. it’s puffing out its cheeks all big!” you gasp, leaning your face closer to the glass to get a better look.

“speaking of food, are you hungry at all?” he questions you.

“hmm, i’m not very hungry at the moment, but i can always eat! i might have to tucker myself out if i’m going to have a full meal though.”

“well.. they do have a game spot for all the little kids that we could totally go check out if you’re in for a challenge.” he mentioned.

“am i about to bust your ass in underwater themed dance dance revolution?” you bet.

“no, because it’s regular themed dance dance revolution, just with shark stickers all over it.” 

“don’t test me jae.”

“okay! okay, i sincerely apologize for my actions, i will admit to being the biggest loser on the planet.” he pats your back.

“the apology was a five out of ten, you need a ukelele and it might be slightly better.” you shrug, arm still intertwined with his.

you let him lead you to the supposed game area that he had his eyes on. it wasn’t the biggest attraction ever, since it was an aquarium, not an arcade, but there was still a decent amount to do. a couple of small children littered around playing games and sitting with their parents. taking a brief look around, it was mainly educational things to keep children engaged with underwater wild life

“you lied to me! they don’t even have ddr.” you complain.

“no, but they have frogger!”

“yeah, and a bunch of educational puzzles about stuff i already know.”

“okay then go and name every fish species in the ocean right this second.” he taps his foot impatiently.

“on second thought, educational puzzles are super fun!” you switch up, smiling unnaturally wide.

“see, don’t sleep on learning new information, y/n. that’s how you become wise like me.” he pokes at his temple.

“oh, right here?” you place your finger on his forehead as he nods, before you quickly flick your fingers against his skull.

“ow!”

“ah, i get it now. the more hollow it sounds the smarter you are. i must be a dumbass then.”

“ha ha very funny. we have an entire aquarium to explore! this place is for children like woonhak, i think they have exhibits where you can pet the fish? kind of like sea world i guess.” he rambles, yet keeps you intrigued.

“sounds like a better idea, let’s go look around.” you exclaim, grabbing onto his hand instead of intertwining arms. 

exploring the depths of the ocean, as jaehyun would say, was fun as well as stress inducing. running around hand in hand with him was always interesting, and there were so many different fishes to look at. putting it simply by saying you ‘had fun’ was a complete understatement.

you both often compared the fishes funny faces to people you knew, and jae was getting a kick out of it especially. even though woonhak wasn’t there, he was there in spirit with the hundreds of fish the two of you named after him to get a quick giggle. not only that, you poked fun at one another in the exact same way. a puffer fish a couple tanks down was named jaehyun, and it’s cute mate was named y/n.

catching glimpses of anything and everything, it had felt like you explored the entire building. though besides the funny moments you shared together, the atmosphere itself was romantic. jaehyun thought you looked prettiest under this lighting, when the darkness of the tunnel you were both in meant he could barely make out your facial features, but he just had the feeling in his gut you looked ethereal.

exchanging glances often, the blush never left one anothers cheeks. the day was coming to an end, something that you were dreading especially tonight. you attempted to forget about the decisions you’d have to make, and just bask in the warmth of being with him.

“i don’t want to leave yet.” he looked sad, swinging your arms back and forth.

“i have a curfew you know, but i don’t want to go either.” you reminded him.

“actually, i have an idea. come with me!” he leads you around the corner into a gift shop, where they have a large selection of merchandise to choose from.

“ooo, sea stuff!”

“pick out anything, and i’ll buy it for you.” he offers, pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

“oh my gosh, does this mean i’m your sugar baby?” you hinted, nudging him with your elbow.

“does that give me brownie points?”

“i’ll think about it.”

“then you can interpret my answer however you please.” he declared, “now pick out something, they have a lot of cute stuffed animals here.”

“this seal has been eyeing me since we came in here, i don’t know.. it looks pretty cute.” you pick up the fluffy creature and poke at its eyeballs.

“i don’t think it’s going to be able to eye you anymore after that one.” he gulped.

“even better. i choose this one!” you hold it in front of his face as he takes it from you.

“what if i told you i forgot my wallet and you actually have to buy it yourself?” he non discreetly hides his wallet behind his back.

“shucks! guess i have to nuke the planet, because i would die if you didn’t have your wallet.”

“you’re so dumb.” he laughs, taking the stuffed seal up to the register to pay.

“you’re the one that likes me though, so who’s losing here?” you retorted.

“not me! you’ll like me eventually, maybe? if i try hard enough.” he takes the receipt from the cashier and thanks them, handing you the stuffed animal.

“for starters, this seal might have.. sealed the deal.” you do a dramatic wink, following him back out to the car.

“i might have to sit back for that one..”

“stop it, don’t lie! it was kind of funny. i just came up with it on the spot.”

“y/n, get in the car and i’ll show you some real comedy.” he clicks the lock on his car, opening the door.

“is the joke where you kidnap me and tie me up, then it turns into one of those cop shows?” you ask, putting on your seatbelt.

“i don’t know, let’s find out!” he claimed.

the ride home was just as entertaining as the date, jaehyun constantly saying something he thinks it funny, just for you to not laugh as revenge. it went on like this for awhile, but you always gave into him. when the tone quiet down, and all you could hear is music playing from the aux, you got a chance to reminisce about the day you had.

jaehyun was a very genuine person, always sweet and able to joke about everything. it felt like you were able to connect with him very quickly. on top of that, he got you a cool stuffed seal to keep as a souvenir on your bed.

when you pulled back into your culdesac, you knew it was time to say goodbye and thank him for the day. after unbuckling yourself and collecting your bag on the floor, you give him a soft smile.

“it was a really lovely day today, thank you so much, jaehyun!” you thank him.

“of course, i had a lot of fun too.” he leaned an arm on the center console, almost admiring you as you thanked him.

“and thank you for the stuffed animal, i’m not sure what i want to name it yet. you should text me ideas!” you recommend.

“cute, i will definitely make sure to. you make sure to text me later too, okay?” his words almost stopped your world for a second, as the integrity of the situation was weighing on you once again.

“y– yes! yes i will. i’ll see you later, jae!” you hurry out of his car and wave him goodbye. as soon as he’s down the street, you sit yourself down on the curb to think for a second.

you had to choose between these two boys, and the weight was becoming extremely heavy on your shoulders. it felt almost impossible, but you swore that one of them pulled you in a little more than the other. all you needed was time to think.

woonhak planned a very wonderful date, and you had a lot of fun on it. jaehyun also planned a wonderful date, which was what conflicted you the most. was it the place they took you, or how it felt to spend time with each of them?

though your mind was still reeling, you scrambled around in your bag for your car keys with an idea in your head of where you wanted to go. just a fifteen minute drive and a phone call. that’s all you needed.

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

RACE TO YOUR HEART series

[ecargmura]

Hirogaru Sky! Precure Episode 49 Review - The Sky Turns Dark

Saying that this episode was intense is an understatement in itself. If there is a word that can describe something beyond intense, that is what this episode is. I was seriously glued to my chair and my eyes were glued to the screen to see what would happen next.

Skearhead really was the true villain all along. His true identity is Darkhead, the incarnation of Underg Energy. I didn’t expect the energy to be sentient! Apparently, he was the one who killed the Emperor and altered the Empress’s memories so that she’d be the perfect vessel that could easily be corrupted by the energy. Also, remember when he said he loved the Empress? That was the biggest lie of them all. Yikes. The Empress was the biggest victim in all of this mess. I’m glad that she was able to be reasoned with and accepted Sky’s friendship. However, I was right in that Skearhead was this show’s most dangerous villain. Since his debut, I could tell there was something sinister about him with how he reacted very little to situations and how he behaved around others. Him being the twist villain was not in my bingo card but it felt like it was to be expected. Do I like the twist? Honestly, yes. However, I disliked the fact that it made Empress Underg’s importance diminish as she was just manipulated and misguided the entire time. Her beef with Ellee? All because of lies. I pity her the most, honestly.

You know SHIT is going down when an anime starts using the “go on without me” scenario where companions stay behind to let the MC move ahead with an important mission. Wing and Butterfly stay behind the first stage and then Majesty in the second stage. They all do this so that Sky and Prism can rescue the Empress. I liked how Wing and Butterfly were the other main duo aside from Sky and Prism, so it’d make sense that they’d stay together. Titanic Rainbow has to happen after all. I was surprised with Majesty staying behind. Given how significant Majesty is to the story, I thought she’d have a role in defeating Skearhead, but the plot favors Prism as she and Sky are the duo. However, it’s also nice to see that the writers didn’t make it so that she’d be the spotlight hog and was faithful to making Sky the MC.

Oh boy, the Dark Cure Sky segment was crazy. I didn’t think someone would try to corrupt her. Her design is sick, though. The sole right black wing reminds me a lot of Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII. I think that despite her being infused with Underg Energy, she’s still sane and conscious and is using the power to fight back against Darkhead until it gets too much for her to handle. Despite my amazement with how it went out, it really did come out of left field. Where was the foreshadowing? It would’ve been cooler if Skearhead wanting to use Sky as a vessel was hinted throughout the third act of the series, but alas, I shouldn’t expect too much.

I do like that Prism’s role as Sky’s light plays importance here. Ever since they met, Mashiro has been Sora’s light in a way. She’s her first friend. She’s the reason why Sky is able to fight with others. When Sora faltered and was at her lowest, it was Mashiro’s encouragement that pulled her out of that funk once and for all. She’s Sora’s gentle light and plays that role significantly. Prism Shine even plays a role in ridding of the Underg Energy within Sky.

Anyways, it seems that Darkhead’s true form is of a giant snake and all five Precures have reunited to take down the big bad once and for all. I get the feeling next week’s episode is going to feel like a grand finale. I can’t wait to see what’s going to happen during and after the last battle. What are your thoughts on this episode?

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 38: Enough

We’ve officially made it to the conclusion of season 3 events from the series! After this chapter, it’s going to be a whole new Heat world 🥴 Thank you to everyone who has kept up with the series for this long! I hope to see you on the other side in the continuation of Heat as a unique story with no Narcos series timeline or events to fall back on 😅 Wish me luck!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 18,000+

Summary: As the fallout of everything finally settles, decisions are made that will reset the course of everything you'd once been striving towards. Will you and Javi be able to forgive enough to emerge from the ruins of what was left in the wake of everything?

Warnings: Mentions of unrequited feelings, angst, allusions to past trauma, heartbreak, revenge, unhealthy copy mechanisms, anxiety, and grief. Remorseful!Javi, Sad!Javi, and Hopeful!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 37: Everything

Chapter 38: Enough

Javier had woken up hung over, still in his clothes, and feeling sick to his stomach while the sun beamed down into the bedroom through the unobstructed windows the morning after he'd gone to your place to argue with you – to plead with you to give him a chance.

It didn't hit him until he'd laboriously pulled himself up to sit on the side of the bed and the wave of nausea had dissipated enough for him to think a clear thought.

It's over.

His heart sank as everything came back to him in waves, and before he could help it, he was burying his face in his hands and fighting his acrimony and disgust, self-loathing taking over now, as he warred with catching his ragged breath and staving off the anxiety that was roiling through his guts.

That sick, miserable feeling clung to him throughout the process of packing his things in the reassembled boxes he'd mechanically taped back up after retrieving them from the storage closet, and it sat like a heavy weight in his chest when he booked his flight to Miami. But it really sank deep into his marrow when he packed his bags for the airport, and found your robe hung up on the back of the bathroom door, along with your slippers misplaced underneath the bed. The knot in his throat only got tighter as he placed each into a suitcase, unable to consider discarding them. And when he retrieved all his important documents from the shoebox, he saw the photos.

The two he'd taken in Cartagena, and the one of he and his father from back on the ranch.

He felt dread in having to call him. So…he didn't.

At least not until he was out of Colombia, and not until after several days of being back stateside. Really, the only reason he was sitting on the bed of his hotel room now and dialing the house number was because he realized he'd need to explain why a delivery with a bunch of his shit was getting dropped off without prior notice.

"Peña Residence," his father greets after a few rings.

"Hey, Pop. It's me," Javi edgily greets.

"Mijo, hey! It's great to hear from you. It's been a while, sabes? Wish you'd check in a little more frequently, you know," Chucho exclaims warmly, and Javier slumps, feeling even guiltier now. "How're things?! Your cousins mentioned something they heard on the news about a big bust down there. Was that you?"

"Uh…yeah. It was," he hedges, then sighs forlornly before just blurting, "Pop, I, uh…I'm in Miami right now. I have a few loose ends to tie up on that case, and then I'm heading home. To Laredo, I mean."

"Javier…what's the matter?"

Rubbing his forehead morosely at the sound of worry tinging his father's bass-filled rasp, Javi clears his throat from the lump of emotion threatening to choke him up. "Listen, so…I called just to let you know a few boxes should be getting to the house in a week or so. I'll hopefully be there by then so you don't have to deal with it—"

"Son," Chucho intones assertively, cutting Javi off. "What's happened?"

Exhaling harshly, Javi reaches for his almost empty cigarette pack, and is busying himself with lighting one up as he rumbles, "Things are over in Colombia. I'm done. And…and once I testify on behalf of an informant this week, I'll be done at the DEA."

There's a sobering silence from his father over the line, before he exhales deeply, and asks, "What about her?"

"Pop…I can't," Javi responds dejectedly as he vacantly stares down at the cigarette pinched between the fore and middle fingers of his right hand propped on his knee, watching the ember-like heat burn out from not being puffed on since his initial drag. "I can't get into that. Not right now…"

Chucho hums, tone gravelly and concerned, but he relents, instead muttering, "Alright, mijo. Just…take care of yourself."

Javier squeezes his eyes shut and nods before answer tightly, "I will. Thanks, Pops."

"I love you, son. Be safe."

A week of debriefs, meetings with prosecutors, and many on-the-record statements later, and Javier has managed to shut off his feelings. Compartmentalized them for later self-flagellation once he's away from all the accusations glared like daggers his way from all kinds of jaded officials. But just when he thinks he'll be able to abscond from the soul-crushing need to take public accountability for his actions, a mandatory exit interview appointment that will require him to head up to Virginia in a week is drilled in by the powers that be at the DEA headquarters there. Resignation aside, he doesn't want his actions to detract from the work Feistl and Van Ness did, or taint the agents and the rest of his staff back in Bogotá, so he begins to steel himself for that bureaucratic formality and hopes he can make it a day trip.

Today, though, he's in a federal courthouse, testifying on behalf of Salcedo.

"The danger that he put himself in to ensure the success of our operation is something that cannot be downplayed. Jorge Salcedo put his life, and the safety of his family, in peril in order to do the right thing. He was instrumental to our efforts to capture and prosecute the Cali godfathers, and I believe he's deserving of this plea deal," Javi tells the closed court, making sure to be purposeful in his tone so the stenographer captures it accurately and the prosecutor knows not to fuck Salcedo any more than they have to. It was bad enough he needed to plead guilty to felony conspiracy charges, after all.

Once Javier has left the stand and exited the room's gallery, he's assertively striding out into the expansive halls of the federal courthouse, in a rush to leave and be a couple meetings closer to not having to think any more about Cali.

"Hey, Peña!"

Javi skids in step, just several paces shy of the large staircase, and turns to see Steve sauntering over to him. The wry grin and irreverent quirk of his brows is enough to make the brooding hostility dissipate from his demeanor and for his shoulders not to feel as weighed down as they'd just been by his self-loathing.

"Well, shit. You keeping tabs on me?" Javi quips as he strides over to meet his old partner halfway.

He doesn't expect Steve to pull him into a big hug. "You wish! Nah, I was meeting with a prosecutor on an interagency task force, when I heard through the grapevine that you were pissing off the feds up here," Steve jokes after stepping back from the hug to roughly clap Javi on both shoulders. "You look like shit."

"Hmph, just following your lead, you fuckin' hillbilly," Javi drawls acerbically, earning a scoffed laugh from the other man, so he gives a glib, two-finger shove into Steve's tan-suit-clad shoulder before asking, "How're Connie and Olivia?"

"Doing great! Although, they're both trying to wear me down on getting a dog. Olivia's already cajoling, 'Maybe Santa will bring a puppy,' so yeah, I'm screwed," the blond agent huffs amusedly before checking his watch. "Hey, you free now? Wanna grab a drink?"

Stiffly, Javi puts his fidgeting hands in the pockets of his gray slacks before muttering, "I got one more stop to make."

"Alright, what about tonight? Come over for dinner?" Steve proposes, brows raising in query when Javi starts shaking his head. "C'mon, Connie'll get a kick out of seeing you—"

"Thanks for the offer. I just…" Javi interjects a little sharper than he'd intended, so he clears his throat and scratches absently along his jaw as he diverts his gaze mildly, before musing, "Raincheck?"

Steve can see pushing him won't do any good. "Sure, Jav. Stay in touch, ok?" he remarks coolly before patting Javi on the shoulder.

With a curt nod, Javier gives him a firm handshake and pat on the back before he makes his exit, descending the staircase in a rushed clip while Steve sighs and heads the opposite way.

By the time Javi traverses the corridor towards the deposition rooms, he feels a little less like a shit heel for rebuffing Steve, but not any better about the last meeting he wants to check off his list for the day.

When he's escorted into the meeting space and finishes exchanging introductions, he's then led into the room occupied by an IRS official, a lawyer, and Christina Jurado.

He hasn't seen the woman since she balefully yelled at him after he'd informed her of Franklin's death, and by the stunned look in her eyes, he knows she never thought she'd see him again.

As Javier sits on the opposite side of the deposition table with the DOJ lawyer next to him, and the IRS official adjacent, he listens as the lawyers dispense with the pleasantries, giving quick greetings before detailing the purpose for Javier's involvement.

"—He's willing to go on-the-record that you weren't party to your husband, Franklin Jurado's, money laundering activities, which, I will say truthfully, Mrs. Jurado, would be a lucky break for you. Especially since my office is not inclined to dull out any arrangements with someone who cannot help corroborate our case docket against the Cali cartel. However, this matter with the IRS uncovering some discrepancies on the property attestations under your name, coupled with the joint account they'd frozen since your husband went on the lam, is something that puts you at a level of complicity we're not so sure we can ignore. However, Agent Peña has produced a report detailing your abduction by the cartel and captivity under FARC, and has asked for leniency on your behalf."

The entire time the DOJ lawyer is speaking, Christina stares wide-eyed at Javier. He, however, keeps his gaze fixed to the glass of water sat in front of him. When the lawyer asks Javier if there was anything he wanted to add before signing his statement, he declined, accepted the pen offered to him by the IRS official, and signed, initialed, and dated all the appropriate documents before standing to shake everyone's hands. Still shocked, Christina remained seated while they shook hands, but when Javier made for the exit, he could feel her staring at his back, so he hustled his pace to traverse the long corridor out and practically zoom for the exit.

He came out to the crowded sidewalk of the balmy day and was eager to find a taxi to head to his hotel and decompress, mind already swirling with uncertainty, when he heard the quick clicks of advancing heels behind him.

"Wait!"

Javi felt the cold dread needle in his gut as he got to the curb and was just short of flagging a cab.

His shoulders squared up, but he turns to look at Christina Jurado as she catches her breath after seemingly having sprinted after him.

"Those lawyers didn't tell me you would be doing that," she begins, shifting her purse strap higher on her shoulder as she frets with the cuff of her pale blouse's sleeve while the bustle of the crowded sidewalk and avenue beyond continues as an absent din around them both.

"They rarely do. I'm sure yours didn't either in order to make it clear to the official that there was no improper appeal on your behalf for my help," Javi remarks, and glances down at his shoes as he adds, "Anyway, it should all be resolved soon now—"

"Did you interfere because you thought that would make up for everything?"

Derailed by the icy accusation, Javier looks up at her, perplexed. "No…no that's not it at all—"

"Good, because there's nothing, absolutely nothing you could do to make up for it," the blonde woman levels crisply at him, cheeks flushed and eyes clear with her vindictiveness. "I didn't ask for your help, nor did I want it, so whatever 'good deed' you thought you were going to achieve here? I want you to know it doesn't absolve you of anything—"

The entire time she spoke, Javier felt something loathsome simmer in his gut and radiate mortified, scalding outrage to flare up to the back of his neck, before something sharp pulled at his recollections.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you told everyone in that room after I left to disregard my request for leniency, right? Told them to forget about accepting any help, and that you'd take the original plea they'd offered for your crafty tax evading?" Javier snaps in a low tone, eyes intensely staring at her now as she wavers in shock, mouth bobbing for something to say. When she finds nothing, he deadpans, "I thought so. Because let's be clear: You were not some naïve, oblivious little wife in this. You knew what kind of man Franklin was, who he was beholden to, and were content to let him charm his way into banks with your U.S. Passport in hand while you hung off his arm and kept your nose powdered in between your extravagant getaways and shopping sprees."

She is incredulous. Javier firmly saying what she knew to be true all along has her floundering for a retort.

When all she can do is fluster a befuddled scoff, Javier levels her with, "You can blame me all you want for what happened, but that doesn't change the fact you were complicit in it, and just as responsible for what transpired."

With that, he turns and heads for the curb, hailing a cab while she's left reeling in the truth that no one had ever hit her so scathingly with before.

Javier gets in the cab, and doesn't spare a backwards glance as the driver nods after being given his destination and heads into the flow of traffic with the rest of rush hour.

As he sits in the air-conditioned backseat, an intrepid part of him reminisces about the time you'd blown your stack at hearing what Jurado's wife had said to him, and that part wonders if you'd be proud of him for how he'd set her straight this time.

As soon as the thought strikes him, though, the miserably loathsome part of him roils. As if she would care jack-shit about anything you've done now, after what you did…

It isn't until several days later, when he's coming out of his exit interview, that the longing pulls at his seams.

He'd gone in and told the exit interview committee made up of a member of each high-ranking bureaucratical department within the agency exactly why he'd resigned, and did not mince words about what he'd intended by giving the interview, on the record. They'd made note, asked a few follow up questions, and then concluded with a canned statement about how his assignment had made a difference.

In an ambivalent fugue state, he'd wandered over to a memorial wall just off from the main lobby. It was an inset wall, flanked on one side by the American flag, and the Department of Justice flag on the other. The words 'These are the men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice for a drug-free society' was engraved above three rows of over a dozen small frame photos of agents who'd died on assignment. Each had a placard beneath, detailing the agent's title, name, and date of death. As he stares at the photo of a Special Agent at the center, Javier can't help think that if things had gone differently, his photo could've been on this wall.

It gives him little solace to know that he'd been 'one of the lucky ones' to make it home.

Stewing deep in thought, Javier doesn't immediately sense the arrival of Mike Spencer, the head of Operations at the DEA.

"You knew him, right?" the man asks. "Agent Camarena?"

"Of him. My first assignment out of the academy was a task force that searched for him in Guadalajara," Javi answers evenly.

"It all started there. Before him, we didn't even know we were in a war," Spencer remarks. When Javier doesn't say anything or glance over in acknowledgement, he looks sidelong at him and muses, "Another hot one down there for you, huh? You took down the big players in Colombia."

Fighting the impulse to glower at that, Javier drawls, "Yeah, well…we'll make new ones."

Unfazed, Spencer retorts, "Don't turn a victory into a defeat, Javier. The Colombian super-cartels are gone. And whoever comes next are going to be fighting amongst themselves for years. They're still only going to be a shadow of what Medellín and Cali were. And now it's time to take the fight to the real enemy in the war of drugs. Mexico."

That's when Javi spares a glance his way. "'The real enemy'?" he quotes in a dubious monotone, eyeing the man reservedly.

"Let me put in a few calls. I'll make this bullshit resignation go away," Spencer assures confidently, and when Javi stares at him cynically – a hint of equivocation in his dark eyes, he adds flippantly, "What else is a guy like you gonna do?"

When Javier has no rebuttal, Spencer gives him an assured smirk and lopes away.

The question keeps echoing in his mind. It peels away at his dejection, and by the time he's back in his hotel room, pacing the length of the space and smoking a cigarette, he's at a loss for what to do with himself. Frustrated, he pours himself a whiskey from the minibar, and sits moodily at the desk, rubbing tensely at spot between his brows before grinding the heel of his palm into the center of his forehead.

Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, he reaches for the phone and dials his father.

He tells him everything. What happened with Cali, how everything was rigged against him, the fallout of his decision to expose the corruption, how he'd resigned from the DEA before he'd gone on the record for the reporter, and that once everything was put in motion, he'd left you in the dark. That you'd found out what happened after it was all done, just like everyone else.

That you'd felt betrayed and hurt by his decision, and that you'd lost trust in him.

"…She doesn't want to see me anymore," he croaks now, eyes watering as he pictures how dismayed and distraught you had been while fighting back tears while you stood incredulously in front of him at his apartment.

Chucho is silent for a beat, before he clears his throat to rasp, "Did she say she didn't want to see you anymore?"

Scoffing, Javier scrubs his hand angrily over his eyes before dragging it down his face in exasperation. "She didn't have to, Pop—"

"You love her, dontcha?" Chucho presses.

Exhaling tersely, Javi shakes his head stubbornly, as if his father could see him telepathically.

Grunting when Javi doesn't retort, Chucho insists, "Unless she told you she doesn't want to see you anymore. That she is through and moving on, and has no interest in continuing your relationship, then it's your responsibility to go back there and work it out. At the very least, you owe her a definitive conclusion, so that neither of you walk away with regrets."

Javier listens to his father, and his mind wracks with recollections of everything said that day, and then a fuzzy recall of standing at your door and pleading with you to give him another chance eclipses the rest. He can picture your angry expression, and his mind strings together the sequence from the drunken daze of that night.

"Just pretend I'm a loose end you can skip trying to resolve."

Your cutting sneer reverberates across his thoughts, and just as the melancholy begins to wrap densely around him, he presses his forehead into his propped palm and leans into the desk.

It triggers a sense-memory.

The cool feel of your door resting against his feverish forehead, and suddenly, the words return to him.

"She matters to me. I love her," he murmurs unguardedly, confiding, "I told her I would keep trying to fix things…to win her back. She'd already closed the door on me because I'd upset her. But I think she heard me."

He can recall the muffled sound of your retreating footfalls, and what he thinks was the sound of you sobbing, and it makes his chest tighten.

"Javier," his father rumbles, pulling him from the mire of his thoughts. In a determined baritone, he asserts, "Go to her. Keep your promise, and see if you can win her back."

"Pop…what if she doesn't want to forgive me. What if…what if she can't, and doesn't want to ever see me again?" Javi mumbles distraughtly as he grips his hand to squeeze at his temples, palm over his eyes dejectedly while his breath catches in his throat.

"Then, you'll know. And you'll come home, take time to regroup, and move on," his father tells him sincerely, without a hint of coddling in his tone. "Now, sleep on it, and let me know, alright?"

His father's sage advice is something he's received often, but hasn't always followed. However, this is one of the few times Javi is intent on following it, so the next morning, he grabs his bags and heads to the airport. He flies out of D.C. in order to go nonstop to Bogotá. Surprisingly, his visa is still active, so he's able to breeze fairly quickly through customs and hails a taxi to a hotel. It's a blustery late afternoon, so he opts to skip lighting up a smoke and pockets his hands into his dark leather jacket while he waits for a cab, and then crosses his arms tightly to stop his hands from fidgeting while he's driven through the bustling traffic.

While he arrived fairly late in the day, it's not near the time you'd typically arrive home from work, so he opts to get a room; not wanting to show up at your door with his suitcase and duffle as if he'd presumed arrogantly that you'd just let him stay without first talking things through.

As soon as he's checked in and has left the bags, he glances at his watch and heads down to grab a cab to ferry him to your side of town, unable to wait any longer. While en route, Javier thinks about how much time has lapsed since that night he'd drunkenly beseeched you to give him another chance. It upsets him to realize how much trauma you've experienced in such a short time, and now he judges himself harshly for having caused any more heartache and hurt for you.

"… I'd never felt so safe – never trusted anyone else so much in my life…"

The words you'd spoken echo in the recesses of his recollections, and now Javi yearns to repair and recover what you had entrusted him with, so the moment the taxi pulls up to the curb, the driver hasn't even come to a complete stop before Javi shoves the fare amount into his hand before he's jumping out of the car and rushing up the walkway to cross through the courtyard. He bounds up the steps two at a time, heels of his boots clanging loudly as he goes and the railing he grips as he ascends reverberates from how forcefully he's hustling to your door.

The sun hasn't set yet, and in his haste, he hadn't noticed if your car was parked out on the street, so he knocks on the door and waits with bated breath.

There's no answer after a few quiet seconds, so he knocks again and leans his hand into the doorframe as he strains his hearing to try and pick up any sounds from within the apartment. Grunting, he knocks again and listens more intently, picking up the way the knocking echoes with more resonance in the interior than he remembers it doing so prior.

Perplexed, he checks his watch before raising his right hand to knock again, when a voice from down in the courtyard shouts over, "Hello up there! Can I help you?"

Confused, Javi turns and peers over the banister of the staircase to the patio of the apartment adjacent the courtyard. He sees your neighbor – the one he's met before, looking up concernedly at him as he clears his throat and greets, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to be loud, ma'am. Do you happen to know if she's come home yet? If not, I'll just wait—"

As he spoke, her eyes softened with recognition, but her expression only deepened into a frown. "Doncito… she doesn't live there anymore," the older woman tells him woefully, adding, "She moved out last week, and put up the apartment for rent."

Javier is gripping the banister and staring agape, completely incredulous. "What?! Why? Did something happen?! What about her job—?"

Dismayed that he doesn't know, which makes her worry she shouldn't be telling him any of this at all, the woman absently cups her cheek and assuages, "Nothing bad has happened, no, but she no longer works at the embassy. I'm sorry…"

He balks at this new information and whirls around the balustrade to sprint down the stairs and bound towards her. "Please, if you know where she is, or how I can get in contact with her, I would be so grateful—" he pauses when she looks at him like he's raving desperately, so he collects his composure and plaintively stares at the woman, explaining, "I made a mistake, and I've been regretting how things were left the last time we spoke. I came back to make things right…to try and win her back. So, please, if you can tell me where she is? I just want to fix it."

The woman is touched, but exhales a weary sigh. "The last I spoke with her, she was leaving Medellín, and asked me to forward any mail to her prima's house…" she goes on to tell Javi that movers had come and taken everything out of the apartment, and that you'd gifted all of your potted plants to her, as well as passed over all the canned tuna and the dishes you'd use to feed the little black cat. "…She didn't tell me a phone number I could reach her at besides the house's in Medellín. I'm sorry, but that's all I know for now."

Heartbroken, Javier dimly nods, eyes downcast as he thanks her and apologizes for disturbing her. She watches as he wanders back towards the steps and sits on the fourth one from the bottom before propping his elbows onto his knees and burying his face in his hands. It's such a sad sight, that she leaves her little patio and goes back into her apartment, feeling like a busy-body; like she was witnessing something she wasn't really privy to.

All alone now, Javi reels in the silence of the breezy courtyard, overcome with a tumult of emotions and unsure what to think, let alone how to feel. He sits there and collects his ragged breath, trying to recover from the vertigo of having everything go upside down on him in a matter of a conversation.

The sound of a curious mewl breaks him out of his internal spiraling to look up from where his head was bowed to blink over at the little black cat that had seemingly loped from a hiding spot to come investigate what he was doing sat in her territory. She scampers up two steps and greets him with an affectionate head-butt to the side of his left leg, meowing for him to pet her.

The ache in his chest deepens as he stares into those imploring green eyes, and before he's even registered it, he's picking up the cat and cuddling her into his chest, allowing her to perch on his lap as he pets her gently. She purrs contently and rubs her ears against his midriff, squirming bossily in order to perch up on her hind quarters and knead her front paws into the soft material of his blue button-down beyond the supple leather of his favorite jacket.

"I know, girl. I know," he mumbles to the cat, petting her head with sincere affection.

Apparently appeased, the spritely feline trills a content sound before bopping her head against his chin and vaulting out of his embrace to lope down the steps and hop the patio gate to take a new perch on the neighbor's cushioned chair. He watches her curl up for a nap, and he suddenly feels like he's overstayed his welcome.

With the sun setting, he walks pensively to a more bustling avenue, and decides to make one more stop before returning to the hotel.

It's the end of the shift, and all the custodians who're done for the day shift are filing out the side gate to head towards varying bus stops that will ferry them home throughout the metropolitan city. Javier spots Marisol from where he's been sitting and waiting across the street, and when she looks his way after saying goodnight to one of the other girls, he stands from the bench and waves at her. She looks startled to see him, but quickly shakes the surprise off, looks both ways, and hurries across the street towards him.

"Santo Cristo, Javier, when did you come back?! Where have you been?" she's asking, gripping her tote to her side and haranguing, "You pick a fine time to pop back up here. What on Earth were you thinking to leave without saying a word to her?!"

"I just got back," he assures and escorts her to sit on the bench before he joins her, inquiring, "I told her I would come back once I tied up loose ends on the Cali case. What happened? I went to her apartment, and her downstairs neighbor said she moved out. That she'd quit her job?"

She sighs shakes her head contritely. "After you left, and she found out all the truth, she couldn't tolerate how things were – felt like she'd lost trust and confidence in her work here. Once Mister Ellis left, she made arrangements to strengthen her department, and gave her notice of resignation to the ambassador. Then, she went to Medellín to finish dealing with her grandmother's estate. I called the house there to check in on her, but she'd already left Colombia, so her prima promised to pass along my message to her," Marisol details, and watches as Javi's dark eyes become creased at the edges with his profound sadness.

Right hand fidgeting the anxious energy teeming in him, Javier squeezes it into a fist he presses into his thigh as he bows his head before rumbling, "I'm sorry for showing up like this…for having repeatedly cajoled you into helping me time and time again. I—I'm very grateful for all you've done for us…for me."

She frowns and puts her hand on his shoulder. "You're a good man, Javier. It's high time you realize that yourself," the convivial woman tuts, patting his arm when he exhales a meek huff and nods his thanks to her. "Take care of yourself, would you?"

He ruefully smiles and leans over to kiss her on the cheek. "You too."

Marisol stands, and ambles a few feet in direction of her normal commute, when she pauses, turns, and marches back up to him. "Aren't you going to ask me what my message was?" she inquires bossily, hand on her hip as she gazes down at Javi's surprised look.

"…I figured that was private?" he retorts, but at the wily gleam in the woman's eyes, he sits up straight and focuses more intently on her expression as he asks, "What was the message?"

Triumphant, she smiles at Javi.

"That her plan worked," she retorts, winking as she drawls, "I'm sure you'll find out the details once you get back home, guapo valiente."

With that, she turns on her heel and leaves Javi bemused, albeit flummoxed. What the hell does that mean?

Needless to say, he'd been left with nothing else but to return the hotel, get his things, and head back to the airport.

The trip back to Laredo was a long one.

It's late in the evening when his father pulls up and picks him up at the airport.

The older man had gotten out of the cab of the truck and given his son a fortifying hug, one returned in kind.

However, the drive home was a quiet one, teeming with all the unspoken things the pair knew not to say. Really, it isn't until the following morning, when Javi descends the stairs and finds his father at the kitchen table, reading his newspaper, that the first word passes between them.

"I'm glad you're home."

Right hand ticking anxiously at his side, Javi scoffs deprecatingly and bows his head as he crosses his arms and struggles to find what to say to that.

Lowering his newspaper to peer over at his only son, Chucho sighs and crosses his own arms to lean back into the sturdy chair. When it doesn't look like Javi will decide between coming or going from him, he grumbles and puts his large, calloused hands on the table, drumming his fingers over the folded newspaper as he decides to level with him.

"Look, Javier – everything happens for a reason. I know this is not where you expected to be, but for the time being, it's where you're meant to be until you find your way," he tells him sagely, tone softening when those sad eyes flick momentarily up at him before deflecting to stare unseeingly out the window over the kitchen sink. In that moment, with that simmering frown, he can't help be reminded of how much he looks like his mother, and his heart aches a little. He wishes she was there to say all the things she was better at conveying than him. Instead, he relents, "I know you don't want to hear what I have to say—"

"That's not it, Pop," Javi interjects and snaps out of his faraway stare to look over at his father.

When he sees him frown, Javi huffs and goes to sit at the table with him. The kitchen still smells of the fresh pot of coffee, with a hint of lemon from the lemonade his aunt had made and left for them in the fridge. It also stirs up memories of his mother when she'd make agua fresca, and before he can get towed under by the reveries of a childhood long gone, he clears his throat and looks his father in the eye now.

He proceeds to tell his father what happened. Even goes into the conversation with Mike Spencer, and how he'd been offered to run the DEA's entire Mexico operation against the cartels there.

Chucho listens, but his expression hardens the more Javier tells him, and by the end of it, when his son just moodily props his face in his hands and huffs raggedly, there's only one thing he knows to say that will redirect his course.

"Like I said, mijo. You'll find where you're meant to be. But, for now, I'm hoping you can spare some time with your ol' man, help me with a few things during the week while your cousins finish things on their side?" Chucho remarks as he stands from his seat and pats Javi on the shoulder before grabbing his empty mug and heading to the counter to refill it with more coffee from the pot.

Scrubbing his palms over his clean-shaven cheeks, Javi grunts before retorting, "Sure. Whatever you need."

It's a few days of toiling on the ranch later that Javier finds himself bone-tired and dazedly staring off from the battered fence along the muddy embankment of the shore bordering the waterway that the failures of Cali crest right back up to swallow him under.

Seeing the lanchas ferrying with carefree impunity up the murky water towards points unknown to drop off cargo – to flood more cocaine into the U.S. – right in his literal backyard? It makes something sour become a bitter malaise in his gut. The breeze from the water under the heat of the late afternoon sun only makes him sweat and feel withered.

He's glowering against the blazing glare out at the boat in the distance, simmering with the acrimony of his failures, when his father's voice shouts over the sportscaster on the radio's play-by-play.

"You helping me with this or not?"

Javi snaps from his loathing haze and sees Chucho at the truck, winded but pluckily grabbing from the dense wood piled in the pickup.

"I thought I was getting a partner," is his father's huff just as Javi goes over to help him with the large fence post.

"Come on, Pop. Give me that," Javi grunts as he takes the post up with his bare hands and hefts it from his father's grip. "Porfiado," he mutters as he carries it over to the hole and places it in laboriously.

Chucho lets him when his attention is pulled to the river now as the next smuggler's boat jets on by in the distance.

"You can stand here for an hour and you'll count 20 of 'em goin' by," Chucho comments, none the wiser of how such a fact grinds something lowly into Javi's already battered ego.

"¿Y que? ¿Tienes que arreglar la cerca cada vez que hay tormenta?" Javi asks whether his father needs to fix the fence every time there's a storm rhetorically, pointedly changing the topic.

"Alguien lo tiene que hacer," Chucho retorts, offering Javi a can of beer before remarking aloofly, "Así es la vida."

Someone has to do it. Such is life. The rationale gives him little solace.

When Javi takes the offering but doesn't immediately drink from the can, Chucho pops the tab on his own can and drinks from the cerveza, quenching his thirst before mustering the courage to prod, "You thinking of taking them up on it? Mejico."

Javi doesn't respond or look his way, gaze having wandered back over to the water.

"It's different there," Chucho remarks, getting faraway himself now as he reminisces about life as a young man there, as he muses, "Son, let me tell you—"

"Dad."

They both turn to each other then, and his father gives him his clear-eyed attention at being called 'Dad,' not 'Pop.' Javier only ever called him that when he was being plaintive, or assertive about what he needed to tell him – what he needed him to hear him on.

Javier knows the precipice they're both at. He's been here before with him, and he decides he can't leave things unspoken this time.

So, with a forlorn scowl and unwavering stare, Javi holds his father's gaze as he declares it out loud.

"I've done enough…I'm through."

Looking away from his father, Javi cheerlessly takes a sip from the cold beer, content to wallow in his rumination.

But then, his father rasps, "Hand me that cutter," so, disheveled and worn stiff, Javi puts the beer can down, retrieves the bolt cutters, and hands the heavy tool over before pulling on his work gloves, intending to get back to it himself, but his gaze wanders back to the waterway beyond.

At seeing yet another boat going up stream, he removes his aviators and squints at it in the distance, feeling that demoralizing resentment boil up in him now as a recollection echoes back to him.

"…I've had enough with not being enough…"

Your voice is a thread that weaves around in his head, tethering a haul of memories now strung together to remind him of all the times you'd tactically warned him about the reality of his position within the tumultuous, corrupt, and unavoidable adaptability of this seedy world. How taking out one cartel would only lead to someone else filling the vacuum – to the void being exploited by someone crueler, more savvy, and organized.

That no matter what he did, it would never be enough.

***

It took a lot for you to get to this point.

However, the unspooling of your life was all of your own doing.

After you recovered from the shock and dismay of hearing Javier had moved out, you'd gone home and cried for a long while, until that intrepid little voice had tugged at your recall from the last conversation with him. At first, you're fraught as you force yourself to not compartmentalize. To instead sit in the sorrow and focus on the things unsaid and the things declared with vehemence.

He'd promised to try again…that he'd keep trying to make it work.

You hold onto that for days, but Javier never calls.

Really, you're so overwrought with your heartache, that it makes you sick. And the more time that goes by, the more your feelings wither up, and you endeavor to not keep the torch of hope lit for him. But when the time comes for Ellis and Anita to leave for Puerto Rico, you cave to the weakness of your emotions.

It also helps that Ellis hugs you tight at the airport, and whispers, "As much as I want to kick his ass for you, I think you should call Murphy and demand he track Jav's ass down for you."

You snickered dryly, but on the drive home, the seed he'd planted took soil in your longing heart.

You call early the next day, pulse racing and nerves making you fidget in your desk chair as the line rings.

"DEA office, how may I direct your call?"

Confused, you lean worriedly forward. "Oh, I thought this was Agent Steve Murphy's direct line. Could you forward me to him, please?"

"Agent Murphy is on assignment. Would you like to leave a message?"

Crestfallen, you wilt back into your seat. "No…no message. Thank you," is your response, and once you've hung up, your eyes welled over.

Looking over despondently at the corner of your desk, the article sits tucked tightly into the fold you put it in, having reread it numerous times.

On this next reading, something in you snaps.

It's afterhours days later when Stechner is exiting the elevator on the floor his office is tucked away in. He passes the janitor currently mopping the opposite hall and smugly whistles all the way to the door of his office. When he enters, he notices too late that the desk lamp is the only light on in the ample space.

"Good evening, Bill."

Turning, he seems taken aback to see you sitting casually in the swivel chair behind his desk as you turn to give him a pleasant smile head on.

"…How did…" he begins before clearing his throat and glancing back down the hall, as if something dawns on him. Grunting musingly, he closes his office door and lopes towards the desk, smarmy expression seemingly intrigued. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company so late, director? Or, can I call you—"

You seamlessly pull a thick manila folder from where you'd had it sat on your lap out of sight and slap it down on the top of his desk.

He eyes it, before flicking his blue steely eyes to you, and shoves his hands into his corduroy trouser pockets.

Standing, you flip the folder open onto the first page of a stack of documents. "You've been quite busy," is your remark as you fan out the stack, revealing logs, photos, depositions – a veritable array of documentation sourced from means you certainly shouldn't have access to.

"Now, I'll speak plain: These are not the originals. I've sent those stateside, to a contact at DOD. By now, they've, in turn, sent it along to heads of DOS and DOJ, as well as one of the Senators on the Oversight committee," you state as you walk around the desk to instead lean into the side of it when Stechner's eyes rove over a certain pile.

"Ah, yes. Afghanistan. That took some digging. Most of those Mujahideen warlords became the Taliban, right?" you remark conversationally as you give him a cunning smile, eyes narrowing as he eyes you with the proper level of unease. "That mass grave? It definitely looked like work of the Soviets, sure, but you and your buddies probably should've stacked more bodies over those Marines' corpses. Or, hell, maybe not have buried them in uniform?"

His expression becomes icy as he stands straight and lets his hands fall to his sides. "Where did you get this," is his flat inquiry, and when you cross your arms and snicker, as if it should be obvious, he drones, "…Your father."

Humming, you lean over to glide your fingers over another series of documents to sift them from the pile. "Now, if a bunch of dead Marines doesn't do it for most, this?" You point to photos of a landing strip in the middle of a dense, Central American jungle. "Well, selling arms to the Contras? Using Panama as a backdrop to distribute weapons with drug traffickers so you can have them take the fall?"

Glaring at the not-so-blurry black and white image of himself standing at the top of a plane's entry, with Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo ascending the stairs to meet him, Stechner scathes, "You have no idea what you're playing with here—"

"Didn't that guy go to prison for abducting and murdering a U.S. federal agent?" you cut in in a lilting chime before smiling and plucking another photo up and tossing it towards the front of the desk. "Ah, sure, he doesn't run the Mexican cartel anymore, but this guy? He's basically running all the plazas, right?"

A photo of Stechner standing in front of the gangway of one of Amado Carrillo Fuentes' cargo planes looks like it was taken from the top of the tree line, but it was close enough to get both he and the would-be 'boss of all bosses' of the Mexican drug trade faces clearly.

"Oh, and then there's the police report. I assure you, a lot of this didn't really surprise anyone I recruited to help gather this all, but that police report? And knowing the CIA's station chief sold his daughter out to be abducted, just to send some sort of petty message to her boyfriend?" you remark with irreverence, adding musingly, "Well, my father just couldn't abide that. He was more than happy to reach out to his sources, your superiors – think he even mentioned something about telling the POTUS Chief of Staff? Ah, who knows…"

Looking up at you now, you see it.

Utter disdain and resignation.

You smile.

"You should've stayed in your lane, Bill."

Vacillating to try and recover his arrogant posturing, the balding man sneers, "Conjecture and photos won't be enough—"

"I thought so too! That's why I sent a copy of this little dossier to a reporter for El Tiempo, as well as a copy to the editor of The Washington Post," you retort glibly, patting your hands on the tops of your pencil-skirt-clad thighs as you move from leaning on the side of the desk to standing straight, with a prim look. "I mean, I could've shopped it to The Miami Herald, but I figured this was more fitting for the D.C. crowd anyway."

The look in his eyes is priceless.

With a glance at your watch, you remark, "And if everything went accordingly, you should be hearing all about it, real soon."

As if on cue, his desk phone and satellite phone start ringing. You smile sublimely.

"Well, then. I'm sure you have some explaining to do," you chime affably as you strut past him to head for the door. "You can keep those for your records in case you need to spruce up on what falls under treason versus capital crimes—"

"You think this won't blow back on you and your department? That there won't be repercussions?!" he suddenly snaps and whirls haughtily at you as you are mid-exit. "You were so worried about keeping up appearances? What's to stop your reputation from going up in flames just as spectacularly as your Javier's did?!"

His scathing sneer of a smile dissolves when you turn from the open door and grin.

"The fact I gave a copy to the ambassador a few hours ago, oh, right before I resigned my position at the embassy," you drawl with lancing mirth, enjoying how his jaw drops as the phones ring incessantly. "It was great working with you, Bill."

With that, you strut out of his office and down the hall towards the elevator, triumphant when you hear the sound of him throwing his satellite phone against the wall of his office and swearing a litany over the continued ringing and the drone of the vacuum cleaner down the opposite wing.

Everything had been put into motion before this coup de grâce.

Days before, you'd assembled your staff and told them your plans to resign, effective immediately several days from that point. Aghast, they'd asked why, and you'd assured them it was best they not know, but you wanted to prep them for the transition of things without you.

You made Jackie head of the department and Devon her deputy, then proceeded to caution them on the security breach you'd monitored and isolated. Explaining that the CIA was using the pilot program to syphon data from other agencies and to clandestinely transmit top-secret intel to and from sources stateside, you showed them the credential trail and disclosed how it led back to the CIA station chief.

Before you'd assembled your team for this announcement, you'd made several calls in preparation.

The first was to your contact in Panama.

That first conversation months back with Luke had been awkward. However, he'd promised to look into your suspicions, and when you'd called him in preparation days before, you'd gotten everything you needed. Along with the stacks of documents in the dossier, you had the handwriting analysis of the notes Stechner had left, as well as fingerprint testing that matched with his prints on file with the state department that Luke had sent you prior.

The second call was to Trujillo.

He'd done what you'd asked – logged the police report from your abduction – after you'd called him once you'd found the glass of Colombian soda with the note on your desk. And now, with the documents you had from Luke, you asked him to act as an anonymous source within CNP who could corroborate your story and prove a pattern of harassment on you personally and professionally. It also didn't hurt that he was willing to vouch that Stechner had been the one to approach him during the whole Los Pepes fiasco.

The third outreach, and the most difficult of them all, had been the one you'd known you couldn't avoid any longer.

"—The Vice Admiral is very busy at the moment."

"Please tell him it's his daughter calling."

The seconds you were placed on hold were used to take a deep breath to center yourself.

After that call, and once things were in motion, there was a moment where you wondered what would happen after.

Those concerns were shelved once you'd received everything you needed. After all, you'd decided from the start that you would follow through without a regret.

Crosby had been surprised to see you come in to his office at the end of the day, after Dotty had left, and there was really no one to witness and spread the news.

When you'd handed him the dossier, he'd been stony and reticent as he flipped through the documents and photos.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me in my role as director, sir, and it's been an honor reporting to you, but I can no longer in good conscience and confidence remain at my post, knowing what I know now," you'd told him with unwavering poise.

Frowning deeply, Crosby stood from his desk and circled it to sit in the chair next to you and take your hand. "Darlin'…I'm so sorry. Had I known—"

You shake your head and squeeze his hand. "I'm glad you didn't, because if you had, this conversation would be going a lot differently, Arthur," is your smooth assurance as you give him a fierce look.

He chuckles a raspy sound, eyeing you with an impressed smirk. "I'm sure."

Then, an obvious detail finally leaps up into his realization.

"Wait a minute. Who was he retaliating against?" the glacial look in his eyes softens with confusion.

Giving him a seriously stoic expression, you fold your hands in your lap and level him with, "The same man he had rotated out the last time. And, the man he's been stacking the odds against ever since he recommended him to come back to Colombia to go after the Cali godfathers."

The look on his face is a mixture of disbelieving cynicism before he shakes his head as if the prospect is too ridiculous to say out loud, but at your cool stare, he sobers and looks at you intently.

"This whole time, you and Peña – you've been involved with Javier Peña the whole while?"

"Ironically, we'd been looking forward to disclosing our relationship officially, but then, well…it's a moot point now, isn't it," you reply evenly, crossing your arms and eyeing him with the unspoken accusation.

You all set him up to fail.

To your luck, Crosby agrees to honor your request regarding your plans, and all but gives you his blessing in decimating Stechner. After all, the bastard never reported to him, so there's plausible deniability.

The next morning, you packed up your office while the news spread like wildfire in the building. Without batting an eye, you thanked your staff, wished them well, said all your farewells to those who'd rushed down to see you off, and begrudgingly agreed to the happy hour send off the Mil Group boys insisted on. It was a rowdy, albeit cheerful impromptu party, one filled with only friendly faces and toasts in your honor. You managed to get away with tons of hugs, promises to stay in touch, and 'attagirl' high-fives for doing what no one had been able to do: give Bill Stechner his most-deserved comeuppance.

No one dared remark or ask about the tawdrier detail, aka your no-longer-secret relationship with the notorious Javier Peña, and you were grateful for it, but knew they would all be dishing about it the moment you finished strutting out of the bar to head to your car.

By the end of the night, you drove home, feeling clearheaded, but sad.

When you'd loped into your apartment and walked by the phone, you'd seen the machine list one missed call, so you pressed the button to play the message while you pulled your heels off and leaned against the wall in the hallway.

"Hey, my love! I tried your cell phone, but it just kept ringing. Anyway, I'm flying into town on the 'morrow and can't wait to see you. I'll be staying in the same hotel, so after work, come up and visit. Can't wait to catch up, krasivaya!"

Your heart feels a little lighter at hearing Sasha's voice, and after such a devastating, demoralizing few weeks, you revel in having something positive to look forward to, and when you show up the next afternoon at his penthouse suite's door, he's shocked to see you.

"Ketsele! Wha-Wait, is today a holiday? I figured you'd be working—" he's remarking as he pulls you in and gives you a double-cheek kiss before hugging you tight. His cotton crewneck white shirt, blue-striped linen trousers, and his bare feet make it obvious he wasn't expecting any company, and his hair is slicked back from the shower but curling around his nape – making his relaxed appearance and chiseled features softer.

"Hah, n-no, not a holiday," you simper as you squeeze him back and snicker when you pull away to rub your palms brazenly along his neatly trimmed scruff-covered cheeks. "Whaaaat, what happened to the sexy beard?!" is your jibing whine as you pout at him.

"Ah, it was getting annoying, and now that it's fairly warm stateside, it didn't make sense to keep it," he tuts and squeezes your purple tunic-dress-clad waist cheekily before he ushers you over to sit and have a drink. "So? How're things?! How's work, and everything still great with Javi darling?"

You let out a mordant laugh as you sit and take the champagne flute he's just generously filled to the top before joining you on the plush couch with his own.

Sasha watches you chug the champagne down, before you sigh out and turn to face him fully so you can give him your best winning smile.

"Well, um, my grandmother passed away suddenly not so long ago…" you declare, and when his expression goes from convivial to incredulous, you add glibly, "I quit my job yesterday. And, Javier quit his job couple weeks before that after blowing up his life here. We fought, and I haven't seen or heard from him since."

When Sasha stares in aghast, albeit woeful worry at you, the snarky laugh bubbles up from your throat as you lean over him to snatch the bottle of champagne from the side table, plop back into the couch, and begin to drink brashly direct from the expensive bottle as you kick off your leather flats.

"Blessed fucking hell…what the fuck happened?" his baritone is rough with concern and confusion, and as if absorbing it all out of sequence, you watch as his eyes crinkle and fill with tears, "I-I'm so sorry. Why didn't you call me?!"

You take a long pull from the bottle, hoping the bubbles of the champagne with fill your belly and set you aloft to fly up and never have to look back at your life.

After a hiccup filters out of you, shame washes your glibness away and tows you under. Makes you feel stupid and inane. Especially when it scalds hot up from your gut thanks to how truly upset Sasha looks for you, and before you know it, your consternation flushes up to the top of your head, making your face burn with mortification. The feelings you'd walled off crash over you now as the compartments fail and fall under the weight of everything, leaving you frayed and unable to keep your brave façade up.

"…Everything just…it just all…it all fell apart…" you choke out as your composure finally caves in and the hurt leaps up to ensnare your breath.

Your vision narrows in at the edges as you start to sob, and before you've realized it, you're crying in Sasha's arms, desperately weeping until sobs wrack your frame and have you breathless and keening.

He'd manage to hastily take the bottle and set it down on the floor before you dropped it in your state of turmoil, and had scooped you into his fierce embrace as you lost yourself to the sorrow and heartache.

Tears run down his face as he rubs your back and lets you get it all out, waiting until the hot press of your spent tears cool on his neck and your sobs have quieted down to the occasional tremulous inhale and exhale of breath.

You curl up on the couch together once you start to shiver from the cool air-conditioned chill of the sprawling penthouse, and when you sniffle and hide your puffy face into his shoulder, Sasha scrubs the back of his hand across his flushed countenance and squeezes you protectively.

"I'm here, my love. For as long as you need me, I'll be here," he whispers in a thick, roughened bass, emotion still heavy in his voice.

Eventually, when you are utterly drained and can't shed another tear, you go slack in his embrace and try to scrape your composure together. Once you're sure you won't fall apart all over again, you muster the effort to shift against him so you can rest your head on his shoulder and press your forehead to his scruff-darkened jaw.

In a hoarse, low murmur, you tell Sasha everything that's happened.

He is quiet the entire time, listening and caressing your back as you go through the sheer litany of dramatic events you've been through since he'd last seen you.

When you finally conclude in the recap of everything, and clear your parched throat to sit up and absently wipe at your cheeks with the back of your tunic's bell sleeves, you stare drearily at Sasha with your red-rimmed, watery eyes and frazzled expression.

Letting the cleansing inhale out through his nose, he sits back and gives you a cerulean-eyed squint before blustering, "How in the entire fuck have you not become some novelist's muse for the sheer sweeping expanse of your suspenseful life that could be the inspiration for a world's bestseller?!"

Blinking at him in tremulous shock, it takes you a moment to appreciate how he scrunches his face – crooking his brows exaggeratedly while he opens his blue eyes as wide as they can go and he twists his lips in faux displeasure at you.

You burst into hapless, smoky laughter before it turns into peels of guffawing giggles while he comically grabs your arms and shakes you goofily.

"Tell me, ma chérie!" he growls sarcastically while you playfully tussle with him on the couch until you funnily slap his cheek. "Gauh! Alright, I take it back. I take it back!"

"I can't with you!" you rail and shove him when he pouts at you. "Jesus Christ on the Cross…" is your weary sneer as you sit back and sniffle, busily wiping at your face now with your sleeves. "I'm…I'm so sorry for unloading on you…"

Sasha mordantly grunts. "Stop it," he huffs and pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry I wasn't here – wasn't able to give you the support when you needed it…"

You both go silent and just sit close while you collect your composure. He doesn't expect you to divulge any more, but you surprise him by murmuring, "I miss my grandmother so much. After Javi just left, I had this longing to call her and vent in that split-second of losing my mind, when I'd forgotten everything else…and then I just wished I could take it all back. That I could rewind to before and do everything all over again."

"…Have you tried to reach out to him?" Sasha asks tentatively.

You nod dimly and sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. You take a tremulous breath.

"He said that he would keep trying. That after he tied up loose ends with that case…that he would keep trying to make it work and we'd talk about what we'd do, but he left and…I don't believe him anymore," is your despondent response, and saying it out loud has your heart going numb. "I didn't trust him…I don't trust him at all now, and part of me wonders if I should've ever trusted him—"

"Hey, don't go down that rabbit hole now," Sasha sits up and cups your cheek. "Don't try and talk yourself out of how you felt. It was real. Don't regret it."

Sighing deeply, you nod and bow your head. "It's a moot point anyway. I…I sort of went scorched earth at work, and without my job at the embassy, I really don't have a reason to stay in Colombia anymore," you mumble before shuffling over to retrieve the bottle of champagne from where it sits before drinking a pull from it. When you exhale and offer it to him, Sasha takes it and chugs several gulps. You end up watching his throat work the bubbly down as you remark, "I have to figure out what to do now with my life…"

Grandly, Sasha plops the bottle down on the side table and lets out a charming grunt as he reaches for something tucked under the glass candy dish. "Well, then. At the very least, you can look forward to this!" he announces boastfully as he turns and hands you an engraved, lavishly detailed envelope with your name on it.

You gasp. "Oh my god, the wedding!" is your exclamation as you admire the envelope before opening it delicately to retrieve the lux lace-patterned and golden foiled invitation to your friend's special day. "This is lovely. Oh, I'm such a shit maid of honor—!"

"Ah, stop your fretting! You can come to New York and make up for lost prattling time with Irina," he scoffs irreverently as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. "You can stay with me. It'll be like old times!"

You feel overcome all over again, but now it's for profound love for Sasha, and how he's always so selfless with his affection and care.

He manages to keep you preoccupied the rest of the day over a bevy of snacks and drinks while you think out loud about plans for Irina's bridal shower, and when you inevitably return to fretting about everything, he tows you back to lighter things.

Sasha's just finished suggesting you just take a sabbatical and come stay with him while you decide what you want to do next when the penthouse door opens and a preoccupied Nikolai rushes in.

"Alexander, that twit of a business manager keeps calling and it's pissing me off, so would you get that infernal phone of yours and—" the grumbling man is sneering in a thick Ukrainian accent before he skids to a halt and sees you peering over at him from the back of the couch with wide eyes. "I—forgive me, I wasn't aware you were entertaining."

"He speaks!" is your cheeky exclamation as you smile at how he's glowering busily at you while Sasha sputters amusedly at your side. "I was beginning to think you had a squeaky voice, or sounded like Donald Duck—"

Guffawing at that now, Sasha folds his arms over the back of the couch and buries his brash laughter into his forearms, but fails to rein his mirth in when you elbow him bossily. "Hah! Alright, alright – sorry," he husks irreverently before clearing his throat and sobering in his goofy demeanor when Nikolai glowers and crosses his arms huffily. "What's Ian fretting about now, then?"

"Something about an art dealer," the sentry of a man mutters before waving it off as he makes to exit for his private quarters. "Let me know if you need me—"

"It's nice to see you, Nikolai," you charmingly chime, smiling when he pauses to nod politely at you.

"Nice to see you as well, miss," he mutters almost bashfully before hustling away.

Reluctantly, Sasha bounds up to go retrieve his cell phone. "I'm sorry, ketsele, this'll only take a few minutes, then we can get back to drinking and being stupid!"

You take the moment alone to nibble on some strawberries from the lavish platter he'd had brought up. You are contemplating gorging on a piece of pineapple when he stalks back in moments later, looking annoyed.

"What's wrong?" you pipe as you clean your fingers on a napkin and sit back in the plush cushions of the sofa.

"Ian just told me that the director of the installation at the art gallery in Miami is getting cold feet now because the dealer who recommended 'Worship' for the residency there is getting prosecuted here for corruption and fraud?!" he seethes, dropping heavily into the seat next to you with a forlorn huff. "If the gallery's board of directors votes on it, 'Worship' might be delayed because of that asshole—"

"Wait…is the art dealer's name Santiago Medina?"

Sasha pauses in his harangue to blink over at you in surprise. "Yes, yes, it is," is his musing drone until he deadpans, "Oh shit, so it's true?"

You're the bearer of bad news. You explain how Santiago Medina is literally at the center of the corruption scandal involving the Cali cartel paying for influence with the current administration running the Colombian government.

For the most part, he takes it well, and you end up agreeing to spend the night together for moral support.

You both make tentative plans to catch back up after he's done with his business regarding the installation at the museum, and the promise of considering traveling up with him to New York is not one he'll let you hedge on, so you assure him you'll think about it.

Needless to say, you feel unable to completely escape thinking about everything that's happened, and once you're back in your apartment the next day, you end up making some decisions.

Firstly, you call your prima and let her know what's going on, and what you plan to do. Secondly, you make the arrangements to put your apartment up for rent, and are surprised when you get a lot of interest. So thirdly, you are relegated to scheduling for movers and getting ready to pack up your life in short order.

By the weekend, you've packed almost all of your personal effects and labeled the furniture that will be getting put into storage stateside versus what will be going to the house in Medellín, and are preparing your suitcases when you remember you need to unmount and pack your phone. Well, you're actually actively avoiding packing up your closet, knowing there are items there that will throw you into a melancholic funk, so you busy yourself with getting the box the phone came in and prep it for repackaging.

Eerily, you're taping up a box for your office things to go into in anticipation of the landline getting packed in it as well when the phone starts ringing.

Rushing down the hall, you answer it and move into the kitchen to retrieve a marker for the labeling on the box. You pause when the friendly voice of the director from the D.C. DOS office greets you jovially.

"—I heard you're no longer at the embassy in Bogotá! I called around and got your personal number, so forgive me for reaching out like this out of the blue—"

You listen to him eagerly give you a sales pitch, and are about to kindly rush off the phone, but he thwarts you.

"—So, I know you're probably not in the mindset to be thinking of your next move, but frankly, there's a big opportunity opening up, and you're my first choice for it."

"…Ok, I'm listening..."

A few days later, you're finishing helping your cousin pack away the decades of belongings and keepsakes collected in the three-bedroom, one bath home once your grandmother's.

It was very difficult to go through things when you'd started, shedding lots of tears and some needed laughs when you'd find family memorabilia. The movers had collected the furniture and houseware you'd wanted to keep and send up to storage, making way for the furniture from your apartment you'd graciously passed over to balance out the home Miguel and your prima would settle in happy matrimony together.

"I got these in last week. I wanted to give them to you when you'd first come up, but…well, anyway, here," your cousin is remarking as she enters the kitchen where you're currently sat sorting through some knickknacks you'd collected from your grandmother's old bedroom.

Sitting back in the seat, you follow her as she walks around to sit at the table with you before she places an envelope with the photographer's name in laminated lettering on the front.

When you open the flap, your breath catches in your chest.

The glossy photos are crisp and vibrant as you pull the stack from the sleeve and marvel at the prints as you shuffle them one by one onto the table.

The wedding photos were mostly candids taken throughout the ceremony, out in front of the church, and at the reception. A lovely shot of the happy couple is the first. The big group photo in front of the iglesia's flower-rimmed fountain is next, and you feel a lump knot in your throat at you and Javi standing on the left of the bridal party as you glance from it to a candid of you, Javi, and your grandmother sitting in the pew, just before the vows. You hadn't even realized a photo was being taken, because you were looking at each other in the moment.

A tear escapes your eye as you notice how happy your grandmother looks, sitting on the other side of Javi, as she sees you both staring lovingly at each other.

"I like this one a lot," your cousin croaks, feeling just as emotional. She points at a photo of you and Javi dancing during the reception, and his smile as you laugh in mid dip has you snickering and sniffling. "But this one is my favorite."

She points to a photo of your grandmother, you, and Javier all posing while sat at your cake-slices-and-drink-laden table in the reception. Your abuela has a bright smile that lights up her features while you look truly content – smiling just as brilliantly while scooted close to Javier, who looks handsome and boyish all at once with that dimple of his on full display.

That's what does you in. You start to sob, and through the tears, you simper, "These are beautiful. Thank you. I love them."

Shuffling closer, you both hug, and share some tears while reminiscing about the wedding.

You manage to get through some more chores around the house that takes you into the early evening.

You're just taking a break at the kitchen table from dotingly polishing your grandmother's santos before you wrap them in the packing paper to be placed with the rest of the knickknacks you plan to take with you, and your cousin is cooking dinner while she chats with you. It's about that time of day when your aunt will be getting home from work, so she's jokingly warning you she's probably jetting over to see the progress on the house when you hear a car pull up on the street before the distant squeak of the gate being opened echoes over from the outside.

Comically looking at each other, you snicker and prepare for the inevitable. But then you're confused when instead of your aunt barreling into the space from the front door, there's a knock that sounds through the house. Turning to stare surprisedly at you, your cousin vacillates on whether she should go get the door, when you snicker and chime, "It's your home now, girl. The lady of the house should answer the door!"

Chuckling, she sets the rice spoon down and covers the caldero on the stove before wiping her hands on a towel and rushing by you with an irreverent squeeze to your shoulder as she goes. You decide to return back to the santos while you wait.

The one you're currently turning over in your hands is a figure of La Virgen Santa María, and your thoughts tug free the recollection of the last time you'd seen an effigy of the Virgin Mary. You picture the prayer card that had been in the shoebox, and the melancholy it plunges you into distracts you from the voices and the clang of the screen door closing.

It isn't until the sound of thick leather soled footsteps echoing over the terrazzo floor nearing towards the kitchen only to stop at the doorway behind you that you're stirred back from your longing thoughts to turn in your chair.

Your father stands in the threshold of the kitchen.

His broad shoulders and tall stature fill the space, looking just as imposing as he did the last time you had argued with him and stormed away, but instead of the dark polo shirt and tan slacks he'd been wearing that day, he's in a black guayabera with navy blue vertical stripes, and light cream-colored pleated trousers. His leather dress shoes are polished as meticulously as always, and his hair is swept back, but there's more pepper-gray shocked through his thick strands of hair than you remember.

You're so disarmed to see him that you don't immediately register how uncertain he looks as he stands there, trying to find something to say.

"Tesoro…" he rumbles in a tense bass-filled tone, hands fidgeting at his sides as he clears his throat and tries to verbalize his thoughts.

Overcome by your feelings coming crashing down around you like a rickety house of cards, the knot that tangles in your throat has a tremulous sob catching in your chest before you rush up to your feet and toss your arms around his shoulders.

He seems surprised, but quickly wraps you up in a hug and holds you tight as you start to weep.

Your cousin stands in the living room and witnesses as your father's eyes get glassy with unshed tears while he rubs your back, holding you tight as he consoles you with deep baritone shushes. Stifling a sniffle, she leaves you both to have your moment and goes out to the walkway to stop her mother from interrupting the emotional scene when she hears her coming up the sidewalk.

You don't even notice, too far gone in your tears and the comforting haven of your father's presence, completely unselfconscious to the need to be held by your Pá after so long – to feel safe in his warm embrace and soothed by his familiar aftershave and cologne.

Truly, you're filled up with relief as he whispers assurances that everything will be all right. And, in this moment, the world melts away, leaving just the two of you.

Right now, you're just a little girl being comforted by her dad, and for now, that's more than enough.

***

The drive back from fixing the fence along the riverbank had been a miserable one.

His body ached in the worst way – muscles strained, cheeks and back of his neck tender from tanning under the hot Texas sun, and feeling completely downtrodden after spending most of the day distracted and fuming with every drug-running boat that cruised by to rub in his face what a failure his time in the DEA had been.

But nothing more demoralizing could've heralded his current state of being – at his lowest low – than the song that came over the radio while his father drove them home.

Esta canción que canto amigos Es una más de dolor Si es que me ven llorando amigos Discúlpenme por favor

At first, he didn't know why it sounded familiar, but then when the second section sung after the instrumental horns blow in the melancholic ballad, he gets hit with a scalding déjà vu.

Traigo en el alma pena y llanto Que no puedo contener Y es que la quiero tanto y tanto Pero me tocó perder

He can't even stop it from happening. Not with how utterly worn down he felt, and before he could even muster the will to pull himself together, tears stung his eyes before escaping to roll down his cheeks.

Y ahora tengo que olvidarla también Y arrancarla de mi alma y mi ser Y de aquel amor que quema mi piel Que no quede nada

"Javier," his father grouses when he spares a glance over at his only son and sees him rushing to scrub his hands over his face with a terse grunt.

Que no quede huella, que no y que no Que no quede huella Porque estoy seguro que tu mi amor Ya ni me recuerdas

Que no quede huella de ti Y de los besos que te di Para convencerme mejor que yo Ya te perdí

Pulling off to the side of the dirt road, just short of the gravel-paved junction he'd need to turn onto to head back to the house, Chucho put the truck in park and turned to face Javier with worry. "Son—"

"I'm fine, Pop. I-I—" he interjected gruffly and exhaled a turbulent breath before reaching over to snap the volume on the radio all the way down. With the silence of the cab, he mustered the composure to clear his throat and stuff his feelings back down.

Looking anywhere but up at his father's concerned expression, he assured, "…Just got away from me for a moment there…"

Frowning, Chucho had reached for Javi's shoulder to give it a fortifying squeeze and pat before resuming the drive home.

The next day, after a fitful night's sleep, Javi had been up and dressed in a worn pair of jeans, soft denim shirt with snap buttons, and his battered work boots. Having pointedly ignored and weaved a path around the boxes as well as his luggage from Colombia still waiting to be unpacked to instead head downstairs, he'd grabbed a belt and slipped it through the loops of his jeans as he went.

Even though his back aches and his knees were protesting as he hustled down the stairs, Javi was getting himself ready for another day of toil on the ranch, even if it killed him. After all, he'd decided to get in the swing of helping with the drudgery he'd grown concerned was getting too much for Chucho to do mostly on his own, even with his cousins lending their time around the busier seasons.

His father was just coming back in from the porch with the weekly milk, butter and egg delivery that got dropped off by his primo before taking the rest to market in town.

It was a tradition since he was a kid, and even though it'd been years since his uncle had passed on, his prima Lucía kept it up. He was about to comment that things must be good over on that side of the family land when the house phone started ringing. Hustling to go answer it while his father stored the items in the fridge, he figured it might be Spencer calling again to "check in" and make sure he couldn't change his mind about getting back to work at the DEA.

"Peña Residence."

"Holy shit, Jav!" the boisterous greeting from Steve has him gritting his jaw and his shoulders squaring up. "You won't fucking believe what I just heard—!"

"Jeez, isn't it a little early to call and ply me with gossip, bud?" he grumbles as he turns to see his father begin to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"No man, listen! I just left headquarters – was there for that task force operation I told you about, and the news is all over the building: That asshole Stechner got bounced out of Colombia and is going up before a Congressional committee. CIA's basically burn noticing his ass for a bunch of shit that was leaked, and word is he got taken down by someone in the embassy—"

Javier's jaw drops as Steve details more, but his mind reverts him back to what Marisol had told him about the message she'd meant to give you. What was it?

"That her plan worked."

She'd said it so triumphantly, before teasing that she was sure he'd find out the details once he got back home. Holy shit.

Steve's boasting stirs Javier back as he smugly twangs, "—It's gone up the chain at DOD and DOJ, so he's finished. Someone said the dossier was filled with unsanctioned covert ops stuff, and supposedly it all got sent over to the powers that be in D.C. by some Vice Admiral, which had me thinking your badass mamacita pulled off the ultimate takedown."

But before he can keep crowing about the gossip, Javi cuts in with, "Steve, I gotta go. I'll call you back when I can, alright?"

He hangs up and bounds out of the kitchen to grab the keys to the truck in the bowl on the side table in the hall. "Pop, I'll be back in a couple of hours—"

"What?! Where are you going, mijo?" Chucho follows him out to the front hall where Javi is currently grabbing for his tan windbreaker jacket in the coat closet.

"I just gotta take care of something. I'll be back," he hastily explains as he rushes out the door.

Thirty minutes later, he's parking in the lot across from a building he hasn't been in since before he'd shipped out to Colombia, and when he comes in the door, even at the early hour, the receptionist looks up and is nonplussed to see him.

"Agent Peña?"

Of course, she'd know his face. He was sure Spencer had sent his DEA badge photo around to every field office since he'd gotten back stateside, and with the glances he'd gotten through the halls at the headquarters building in Virginia, he had no doubt his reputation preceded him – for better or worse.

"I need to see Growman," Javier had ordered, not asked, dispensing with all pleasantries.

Looking tense, she'd began to respond, "Um, well, he isn't in yet—"

"I'll wait."

The steel in his voice is only matched by the iron of his stare, so she'd quickly nodded before reaching for the phone to call the deputy director for the Laredo field office.

A few minutes later, and the man ambles out the security door leading to the offices and waves Javier in, looking surprised but intrigued.

Before they're even completely down the corridor that leads to the office spaces, the man was drawling, "Shit, man. Does this mean that resignation thing was a load of—"

"Are you aware you have boat runners smuggling drugs day in and out across the border, going up the tributary from the river, right along my family's property?"

Skidding in step, the deputy eyes him warily before ushering Javi down the rest of the way to the director's office. "So, this is technically a personal inquiry—?"

"Listen, Todd, I don't really care to discuss it with you, seeing as you can't do jack-shit to resolve it yourself, so I'll wait for Growman," Javi cuts in with finality.

Thankfully, the man in question rounds the corner, and after greeting Javier warmly, he takes him into his office and waves the deputy off.

As he rounds his desk to sit in his cushy chair, he began to remark, "Mike Spencer said you might come in here at some point once you got bored with retirement—"

"Nate, I'm going to be very clear here. I spent all fucking day yesterday watching drugs being smuggled up stream, just a stone's throw away from my property. Beyond the fact that I could go over your head to the brass and tell 'em you're letting these bastards get past you in broad daylight, I'm going to say this once: If you don't stop the drug traffic from going up river in my backyard, I will go to every newspaper from here to D.C. and namedrop you as being asleep on the job, and I'll do it in my personal capacity while still being the guy that took down an entire drug cartel," Javier levels in a terse rasp, voice hitting a low register as he leans forward with his hands on his hips to add gruffly, "Do we have an understanding?"

The director eyes him dubiously before drawling, "So I guess the rumors are true."

He knew what he was referring to. "Check it out: that's Javier Peña, the Crusader," he recalled overhearing in the lobby of the DEA building weeks prior. The sarcasm of the musing and the glances he kept feeling spoke volumes.

It was fine by him to live up to that hype.

"Care to find out for yourself?" Javier contumely challenged, eyes dark and features etched with promise.

Stonily, the other man leaned back in his chair before deadpanning, "…I'll get it handled."

"Good," Javier remarks, turns, and storms to the door to exit before pausing to look back at the man. "Don't make me come back here."

With that, he exits the office and stalks down the hall, out the security door, through the compact lobby, and out the building. He gets in the truck and doesn't look back as he drives off.

A short while later, and he's walked into the Sherriff's department.

The heat from the sun was radiating in the foyer, so he rushed through the vestibule and right up to the information desk.

"I'm here to see Deputy Miranda. Can you let him know—"

"Holy smokes, is that you, Javi?!"

He paused to turn just as a very familiar dispatcher was ambling over at him with a bright smile. Unable to suppress his crooked smirk, Javi drawled, "Hey, Pam."

"Well, as I live and breathe! I didn't know you were back in town," the spry woman exclaims as she pulls him in for a jovial hug. "Come on in with me," she offers as she simultaneously holds up her hand to the front desk rookie and chimes, "No need to fret, hun! This one here's got all the clearance he'll ever need," before looping her arm around Javier's and escorting him back to the bullpen.

"Look what the cat dragged in, boys!" Pam shouts out before kissing Javi on the cheek and leaving him to the room filled with mostly friendly faces in order to clock in for her shift.

"Check it out!"

"It's Mr. Laredo himself!"

A bunch of the fellas catcall tauntingly at Javier as he makes the rounds to shake hands hello, pat shoulders and shake his head wryly at the hazing.

"Hey, hermano!" Manny pulls him into a bear hug, giving Javi no quarter until he relents and hugs him back. "What the hell, y que haces por aquí, güey?! How long you been back in town?"

Clapping him on the back, Javi leans back and rumbles, "Not long. Listen, I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere private?"

"Ehm, sure. Yeah. Hey, Carl. Can you finish taking this log down to filing for me?" Manny grabs the folder and hands it to one of the other deputies.

"Sure, John. And I'll only charge you one of those pastries Heidi made for yah," the other man chuckles as he goes.

Rolling his eyes, the man nudges Javi to follow him down to one of the conference rooms that's currently unoccupied. As they go, he can't help notice how his uniform accentuates some muscles he hadn't remembered his buddy having much definition in from the last time they'd hung out, but before he can comment, the door is shut and the inquisition begins.

"Alright, what the hell you up to now that brings you over here asking for favors before 8am?"

Yep, John Emanuel Miranda, 'Manny' to his very close friends and family, always was able to read Javier before he said a damn thing. After all, the two had been friends since elementary school, when Manny had come in mid-semester. His family had immigrated from Monterrey, Mexico, and one day when he struggled to find his locker due to the language barrier, Javier had walked up to him and offered to help. When he couldn't find a table that looked friendly enough to go sit at, he saw Javier waving at him enthusiastically from a table at the back of the cafeteria, inviting him to come sit with him. He eventually came out of his shell more, and over time, he and Javier were best of friends, and eventually he learned enough English to befriend Javier's friends, and ever since, they were partners in crime – and extracurricular activities at school – before following each other into the police academy and then onto the Laredo Sherriff's Department.

Javi still remembers the time Manny introduced himself to some of the other kids as John, and how he'd asked what that was about. "My dad told me he named me John Emanuel Miranda so the gringos would be nicer to me. He figured if I had a white-sounding first name, it would be harder for them to be mean. So, to gringos I don't know well, I tell them my name is John. If I like the person enough, eventually they can call me Manny."

He'd just realized he'd told Steve a while back while they'd been waiting for Navegante about his best man John driving him to the chapel before he'd told him to pull over, and is amused by the fact he'd likely referred to him as John because Steve was a hillbilly who hadn't earned the privilege to know him as 'Manny,' when he shakes himself loose of the recollections and clears his throat to answer his friend.

He tells Manny about the smugglers, how he'd demanded that the DEA handle it, and how he'd decided it'd be a good bet to have the sheriff's department aware so if the agency dropped the ball, his guys could be aware and be more vigilant.

"Ni madres…yeah, we'll handle it. I know a lot of people who would happily patrol the waterways more to make sure those hijo de putas don't cross near their land," the man responds soberly as he eyes him reassuringly. "So then, you doing all this because you plan to stay for good, Javi?" he followed up, as he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.

"…I'm doing it because I don't want that shit happening in my town. Let alone right in my family's backyard. And I knew you wouldn't either, which is why I'm trusting you with it," Javi responded curtly before sitting in a chair and rubbing his hand crankily across his features, struggling with his cigarette craving hitting hard after trying to go cold-turkey. "For now, though…yeah, I'll be home for a spell. Helping Pop out on the ranch while I figure out my next move."

"Well, excellent! So, then you'll be free to be my best man."

Having not expected that, Javier had lifted his face from his hand to balk at him, mumbling, "What?"

Manny gives him a kilowatt smile, shoulders proudly winding back as he tells him, "I popped the question, and Heidi said yes. We're getting married in a few months, so I'll need you to be my best man."

Stunned, Javi takes a minute to stand and clamp both hands onto Manny's shoulders before giving him a wry shake and pulling him into a hug. "Congrats, huevón! She finally wore you down—"

"Ah, no mames, cabrón," Manny scoffs and shoves Javi comically. "We all can't be eligible solteros forever!"

Javier is in much better spirits by the time he gets back to the ranch, and while his father is peeved with him, he just tosses his tools into the back of the truck and hops in before ordering him to drive out to the northern pasture.

By the end of the day, the dirt and sweat of hard labor actually felt good to him, and Chucho can't help affectionately patting his arm while they moseyed back to the truck.

"Whatever you ran off to handle this morning, seemed to help pick your spirits up, mijo," he'd commented, as he put the tools in the back of the truck.

"Yeah…" Javi retorted as he tossed his work gloves into the back of the flatbed and smirked. "Just making my way while I'm here, until I figure out whether I'm cut out for this ranchero life—"

"Oh, I've given up on that one a long time ago," Chucho cut in slyly, smiling as he got in the truck.

Snorting, Javi got in too. "I'm trying, Pop."

"I know. And this viejo appreciates it, but we both know you'll get stir crazy and find what you're meant to do next," he fondly assures as he starts the truck. "But I'm grateful all the same that in the meantime, while you figure it out, you're spending it here, Javier."

It feels good to hear.

So, he opens up, and tells his dad the news about Manny and Heidi on the drive back to the house.

Once his father parked in the driveway over by the storage garage, Javier was feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He was in such a good mood, that he'd been in the middle of remarking, "Maybe we can go into town for dinner? Haven't been to Jaime's folks' spot for barbeque in a while—" but then he stopped dead in his tracks when he was up the walkway and spotted a big box left on the porch, right in front of the screen door.

"I thought all your things were delivered already," Chucho remarks as he comes up beside him.

"Yeah, they were," Javi mutters as he goes up the porch steps and grabs the box. It's heavy, but manageable, so he'd put it down on the nearby porch chair so he could look at the tracking label.

His heart sank when he saw the sender's address.

Chucho perceived the way Javier deflated, so he quickly opened the screen door and unlocked the door. "Bring it in, mijo," he instructed gently as he held the screen open for him.

Vacantly, Javi picked up the box and brought it through the threshold to be put down in the living room. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at it blankly until his father had retrieved his pocket knife and held it out to him.

It took everything in him to slice through the tape and pop the lids open.

His belongings – the ones he'd kept in your apartment – are packed meticulously into the box, folded and arranged in the most efficient way he's ever seen.

The look on Javier's face was everything Chucho needed to see to know where the box was from, and knows his son is brooding with self-loathing, so he put his hand on his back.

"Son, I don't want you to let this eat you up—"

"It's not. It…it won't, Pop," Javi snapped before easing his tone and diverting his gaze. "I'll, uh…I'll take this up, shower, and we can go to dinner."

With a frown, he nodded and watched Javier pick up the box and make a hasty retreat up the stairs with it.

When he made it up to his room, he dropped the box onto the floor by his bed, and intended to storm off to shower, but he ended up just staring down into the representation of the last vestiges of his life with you, feeling plunged into a sadness he'd been holding at bay.

He'd been distant during dinner at the restaurant, and pensive on the drive back to the ranch, so his father had deliberated about just sitting him down to hash it all out – to insist on him needing to vent and purge his feelings about the whole matter once and for all so he could work to heal from the breakup and not wallow in his despair.

The chance is thwarted when they come into the house to the house phone already ringing.

Mechanically, Javier had marched to the phone and picked up the receiver.

"Peña Residence."

"Hey, Jav. Sorry to call again, I know you said you'd call back, but…uh, well, I thought you should know," Steve is prefacing in a much more sober tone now than he'd had earlier in the day. Javier grunts for him to continue, so Steve explains, "I came into the office straight from the airport to catch up on memos and shit. I had a voicemail message that was just a few seconds of quiet before the person hung up. I thought that was weird, so I asked if anyone had called during the day when the calls to my line were getting redirected. The dispatcher logged one from a woman, who'd called my direct line, but didn't want to leave a message…and I can't help thinking that could've been your girl."

"…When was it?" Javi asks, throat tight as he feels his father's eyes on him from his vigil at the kitchen entryway.

Steve tells him the timing for both calls, and Javier feels an ache behind his sternum.

"—Wish she'd left a number. Sorry, man. Just figured I'd let you know," Steve is remarking, pulling Javi back.

"No, don't worry about it. Thanks for calling, Steve. Give my love to the girls."

As soon as he hangs up the phone, Javi is ruminating, and for some nagging reason, he's compelled to go up to his bedroom and dig into the box now.

"Sorry, Pop. We'll talk tomorrow, alright?" he tells his father as he rushes by and bounds up the steps.

He hears his father shout up a hasty goodnight while he hustles into his room and proceeds to dig through the box, putting every item and article of clothing on the bed as he empties the contents.

Once emptied and tossed aside, he takes stock of everything, trying to mentally itemize all the things he'd ever had at your place, hoping for some elusive clue he has no clue about finding or why, until something that is not present in the bunch jumps out at him.

His gray college shirt is missing.

Leaning on the mattress, he disbelievingly marvels at the missing belonging, and something he wasn't even aware he still had now began to blossom in his chest.

Hope. You kept it, because you didn't want to part with it, because maybe…maybe you still hoped to see him again.

Overcome, he sits on the bed and grabs the shoe box he'd put on his nightstand, took the lid off of it, and retrieved the photos of you among the other items of importance strewn over them: his mother's rosary beads, her prayer card, and the little Virgin Mary glass paperweight she'd gifted him when he'd gotten into college.

Everything held so much meaning to him, and seeing them all together allowed that hope to radiate deeper in him.

And for the first time, he felt like there was enough – that he had enough to go on.

So, as soberly as possible, he did.

________________

Read Chapter 39: Longing

Spanish-English Glossary:

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"

Sabes = You know

Santo Cristo = Holy Christ; Saint Christ

Doncito = Slang for gentleman/young man, said in the diminutive

Guapo valiente = Valiant hunk

Agua fresca = A non-alcoholic beverage made of fresh fruits, blended with sugar and water

Lancha = A motorized, boat; dinghy used to go up waterways

Porfiado = Stubborn [male]

Cerveza = Beer

Mejico = Mexico

Prima = Cousin [female]

Iglesia = Church

Santos = Saints; Catholic figurines used in a home shrine/altar

Caldero = Cauldron (old school rice cooking pot)

Guayabera = Traditional Latin American button down/formal dress shirt worn by men; usually worn by men to look distinguished

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Pá = Short for 'Papá' which means father, or poppa

Mamacita = sexy lady; foxy woman

Hermano = Brother; bud

Y que haces por aquí, güey = And what are you doing over here, dude

¡Ni madres! = Coloquial Mexican phrase, meaning "No Way!" "You're kidding me!"

Hijo de putas = Sons of bitches

Huevón = Dummy; goofball

Ah, no mames, cabrón = Ah, quit fucking around, asshole; akin to "Quit busting my balls, man"

Solteros = Bachelors; single men

Ranchero = Rancher [male]

Viejo = Old man

Song translation: Esta canción que canto amigos This song I sing friends Es una más de dolor It's one more pain Si es que me ven llorando amigos If you see me crying friends Discúlpenme por favor Excuse me, please Traigo en el alma pena y llanto I carry in my soul sorrow and weeping Que no puedo contener That I can't contain Y es que la quiero tanto y tanto And I love her so much and so much Pero me toco perder But I get lost Y ahora tengo que olvidarla también And now I have to forget it too Y arrancarla de mi alma y mi ser And rip it out of my soul and my being Es aquel amor que quema mi piel It's that love that burns my skin Que no quede nada Let's have nothing left Que no quede huella que no y que no Don't let there be a mark that doesn't and doesn't Que no quede huella Don't let it be traced Por que estoy seguro que tu mi amor ya ni me recuerdas Because I'm sure your love doesn't even remember me anymore Que no quede huella de ti Don't let there be any trace of you Y de los besos que te di And the kisses I gave you Para convencerme mejor que yo To convince me better than I do Ya te perdí I've already lost you

The song referenced and translated above is "Que No Quede Huella" by Rodolfo Aicardi. It’s featured in Season 3 of Narcos, and I suggest checking them out on Spotify.

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