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cherry-holmes · 3 months

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Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña

Chapter 15

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Six months ago you spoke with Javi for the last time. Now, you tried to continue with your life without him.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: Angst. Talk of depression. Mention of daddy issues. Brief description of reader’s body. I decide not to give more warnings to avoid spoilers, so keep the reading under your own responsibility, but in general this contains +18 material.

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I knew you

Leavin' like a father

Running like water, I

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

The smell of smoke would hang around this long

'Cause I knew everything when I was young

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Finally, on December 2, 1993, Pablo Escobar died in Medellín, bringing an end to years of violence and fear to the country. Of course, the ghosts of evil would linger over for a long time. The narcoviolence was a vicious cycle that corroded everything it touched. But for now, the police of Colombia and the DEA had shown that there were still good people and hope. Even if ir wasn't completely true.

When you saw Steve's photo in the newspaper, you felt proud of him, of course, but you knew that Javier deserved to be there too. He had given many years of sacrificing his own safety and personal life to fulfill his duty. There was no other American who had done as much for his country than Javier Peña. He deserved recognition, he deserved to be decorated and rewarded for his years of service.

But instead, he was being judged for using unorthodox methods to do his job. It wasn't ideal, but it was effective in the end. Who hasn't looked for alternatives in their most desperate moments? They didn't deserve a man like him. And now he was paying the price.

You hadn't heard anything about him since that last call, six months ago. You didn't know if he had been judged or sentenced yet. And you weren't sure if you even wanted to know.

Days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, weeks had turned into months. While everything around you seemed to continue its normal course, you felt stuck in Bogotá. Memories of warm nights with him, hurried breakfasts in his truck, and cozy dinners at home lingered, haunting you like ghosts of a past life. You tried to distract yourself, to focus on the routine of daily life, but thoughts of Javier lingered like shadows in the corners of your mind. You wore the necklace he gave you on your birthday like a charm. It was your most precious treasure, the three pearls representing the love he had for you and you for him. Your fingertips sought it out every time you felt down, sometimes unconsciously.

You found it difficult to concentrate on something else, your thoughts constantly drifting back to him, to the uncertainty that clouded his future.

You started to think that maybe the problem lay within you, that you were somehow unworthy of having the man you loved beside you. Doubts ate away at your confidence, questioning your worthiness of love in any form. In the late hours of the night, you grappled with the echoes of your past, recalling the pain of your father's abandonment when you were just a child. That trauma left a deep hole of abandonment in your heart, a wound that never fully healed. And now, facing Javier's absence, it felt like history was repeating itself. The two men you had loved the most had left you, leaving behind a trail of broken promises and shattered dreams. Yes, you still had your beloved grandfather, José, but in those moments of anxiety and depression, you couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with you to not been worthy of love.

Your mother wasn't very helping either, as she wasn't very kind towards you. She never asked you how you were now that you came back or told you she missed you. And when everything with Javi happened, she made cruel comments, hinting that for him you were just another woman and that it was your fault for sleeping with him and not respecting yourself.

However, you had your sisters who supported you through the grief, and the love of your abuelo meant everything.

He was a lawyer, and he offered you a temporary job on his independent buffet while you find a job that suit your requirements.

Losing your dream job as a translator in a foreign country, enduring very difficult situations that put your life in danger, and losing the love of your life—all the trauma and heartbreak left a hole in your chest. It felt as though a part of you was missing, as though you were navigating the world with a piece of your soul torn away.

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The Saturday sun bathed the cobblestone streets in a warm, golden glow as you emerged from the church, your heart still echoing the hymns of worship. Beside you, your beloved abuelo walked, his arm linked with yours, his weathered face radiant with the peace of faith.

"What do you want to eat, papá?" You asked him.

"Sarita told me about a new restaurant," he answered as your mother joined his side, "She said they have delicious barbacoa and consomé."

"I don't think you should eat that, papá," your mother intervened, her brow frowned. From the look on her face, you knew she was going to confront Sara for craving such food for grandpa. "The doctor said..."

"The doctor said many things, María," he replied firmly. "I'm going to die anyway, so I'm gonna eat my birria!"

You smiled to your abuelo's stubbornness, and although you knew that your mother could be right, you just couldn't help but want to fulfill his cravings.

"Okay, papá, we all going to have barbacoa," you promised.

Before your mother could say anything to you, your nephews and nieces ran by your side, pointing towards the churro seller.

"¡Tía, cómpranos churros!" they shouted, and you found yourself outnumbered by them.

"Okay, okay!" You smiled as you watched them bouncing in front of you. "Everyone line up by height and ask the señor de los churros nicely for yours."

Your nephews and nieces cheered at unison and ran towards the vending cart. Both your sisters insisted on pay for their own children churros, but you told them that you wanted to buy churros for everyone.

As your sisters and their husbands agreed with your grandfather and your mother to all go to eat to the restaurant Sara propose to your abuelo, you tried to help the churro's vendedor not going crazy with all four children. All of them were under ten years old, so you can imagine how noisy and playful – and troubling – they can be.

As the kids devoured their churros, you juggled between keeping an eye on them and ensuring they didn't wander off too far. Their laughter filled the air, echoing against the cobblestone streets as they ran around in playful abandon.

Guiding your nephews and nieces back to your family, you barely noticed the bustling activity around you until a familiar voice pierced through the chaos. "I've always known that you look even more beautiful around kids."

You froze in disbelief, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. You turned around and saw Javier standing there. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the sight of him. He looked different, yet somehow the same—the same rugged charm, the same warm gaze that had always captivated you. His mere presence was like a jolt of electricity, sending shivers down your spine and stirring emotions you thought long buried.

As the reality of his presence sank in, a whirlwind of emotions swept through you. Part of you wanted to run into his arms, to hold him close and never let go. Another part wanted to push him away, to confront him for leaving without a word, for breaking your heart with his silence.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the pain and regret reflected in his gaze—the same pain you had been carrying in your heart all these months. And in that moment, all your anger and hurt melted away, replaced by a flood of overwhelming love and longing.

"Javi?" your voice cracked, eyes inevitably flooded with tears. ''How...?''

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I shouldn't have left you like that."

Without another word, you closed the distance between you, your heart pounding with anticipation. Javier's eyes softened as you reached out, your arms trembling as they closed around his torso. The touch was electrifying, sending a surge of warmth coursing through your veins.

You couldn't understand exactly how he was right there, what happened during all those months?, how the hell did he found you? But he was there, he was between your arms again... His warmth, his scent, his beating heart beneath your ear, were things you thought you would never feel again.

"¿Tía?" you heard the little voice of Ana, the youngest of your nieces, as she pulled the skirt of your dress. "Is this Javi? The boy you always cry for?"

You glanced down at her, innocent eyes wide with curiosity, and then back at Javier, uncertainty clouding your thoughts. How could you explain the complexities of love and loss to a child?

"Ana, come here," Silvia, her mother, approached to grab her. She looked at Javi and then back at your watering, reddened eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you answered, a smile prompting on your lips, blush coloring your cheeks. It was the first time in a long, long time that you felt a genuine sense of emotion and happiness since you arrived in your birth-town. "Silvi, this is Javi. Javi, this is my sister."

Javier extended his hand towards Silvia, a warm smile gracing his lips. "Nice to meet you, Silvia," he greeted, his voice gentle and sincere.

Silvia's expression changed upon recognizing his name. Her eyes softened as she shook Javier's hand. "Likewise," she replied, her eyes flickering with curiosity. Of course, she had memorized his name and appearance through the photos you had shown her and Sara of your time in Colombia with Javi. Your sisters had wiped your tears and listened to your heartbreaking cries for him.

You saw your family approaching you, everyone seeming curious and expectant. Your hands were shaking, your heart felt like it could punch through your chest. So had so many questions, so many things to say to him. Suddenly, you felt overwhelmed.

"Buenas tardes," your abuelo approached to you. You recognized that look on his face, the same he had every time you or your sisters met a new boy. Your abuelo had always been the jealous kind, but in a sweet way.

Javier greeted your abuelo, extending his hand in a gesture of respect. "Mucho gusto, Don José. Javier Peña," he said, his voice resonating with genuine warmth, remembering your grandfather's name.

Your abuelo's eyes twinkled mischievously as he shook Javier's hand. "¡Ah! So you're the famous Javier," he replied, his tone tinged with playful teasing.

Javi looked at you with a playful arched brow, causing your face turned completely red, like a tomato. You were the most gorgeous tomato he had ever seen in his life.

"Everyone, I want you to meet Javier," you said, gesturing towards him with a smile. "Javier, this is my family."

Your sisters and their husbands exchanged glances, their eyes bright with curiosity as they greeted Javier warmly. "Nice to meet you, Javier," Sara said, extending her hand.

Javier shook her hand with a polite nod. "You too. You must be Sara."

Sara chimed in, her excitement palpable. "Yeah, it's great to finally meet you in person."

Your mother, who had been observing quietly, offered a reserved nod of acknowledgment, her expression unreadable.

As the greetings subsided, Silvia turned to Javier. "Hey, why don't you join us for lunch at the restaurant? We'd love to have you."

Before Javier could respond, you interjected gently, "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a private conversation with Javier first. We can catch up with everyone later this afternoon at home."

Javier's stomach churned at your words. "Have a private conversation" sounded like you were about to have a serious discussion. He wasn't expecting you to receive him as if nothing happened, as if he hadn't broken your heart. He was surprised and relieved when you hugged him upon seeing him, but he thought it might have been just a quick reaction, an impulsive action prompted by the heat of the moment.

Silvia's eyebrows raised in surprise, but she nodded understandingly. "Of course, hermanita. We'll see you both at home then."

With a collective agreement, your family bid you and Javier farewell, dispersing toward the church's parking lot with chatter and laughter trailing behind them. You turned to Javier, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling in your chest, ready to finally have the private conversation you'd been yearning for.

"So, shall we take a taxi?" you said finally.

"Actually, I brought my truck," he said, pointing at the park across the street, where you saw a red 90s Chevrolet Silverado.

"You drove all the way here?" The thought of him driving three hours, crossing the border, just to see you stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you. It was both overwhelming and heartwarming to know that he had gone to such lengths to be with you.

"Of course, from Laredo" he confessed.

As you walked across the street towards his truck, the atmosphere between you felt familiar, bringing back a flood of memories. Javier unlocked the truck and held the door open for you, as you settled into the passenger seat, the scent of his cologne enveloped you, filling you with a sense of comfort.

Once you were there, feeling overwhelmed by his return, after everything you had been throgh being away from him, thinking he was even in jail. It was too much, you barely could process it... You finally broke, as soon as Javi closed the drivers door, you started crying.

Javier's heart ached as he watched you cry, his own emotions swirling inside him like a tempest. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering over yours, unsure if he should offer comfort or give you space.

He called your sweet name in a way only he could. You felt shivers just hearing it, reminding you of the power he had over you.

You turned to him, tears streaming down your cheeks, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness, relief, and confusion. "Why, Javi?" you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Why did you leave me?"

Javier's heart clenched at the pain in your voice, the anguish etched into your features. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to face the truth, to lay bare his soul before you.

"I thought I was doing the right thing for you," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was trying to protect you."

You wanted to ask again "why?" but you knew it was unnecessary because you understood why. He was trying to shield you from becoming attached to a convict, a man who was not physically free. It had taken you a long time to grasp the magnitude of the situation and his sacrifice. Javier Peña wasn't a selfish man.

"It's important to me for you to understand that at that moment everything seemed to be against me," he continued, his eyes staring at you with longing and desperation, as he feared you wouldn't want to hear him or wouldn't believe him. "Don Berna betrayed me and forced Judy Moncada to leave Colombia and spill everything about the DEA agent who was foolish enough to trust them. I was told that I had committed a federal crime by getting involved with Los Pepes."

For a moment, the gravity of his words left you speechless, grappling with the enormity of what he had endured. You knew firsthand the dangers and complexities of his work, but hearing the details of his ordeal sent a chill down your spine.

"I had to make a choice," Javier continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I couldn't risk your safety, not when everything was falling apart around me. I thought I was doing what was best for you, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness."

New tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to him, your hand trembling as it touched his. In that moment, words seemed inadequate to express the depth of your emotions, the overwhelming rush of love and forgiveness that flooded your heart.

"I missed you," you confessed, your voice barely contained. "I was devastated. Not only for how things between us ended, but for thinking about what would happen to you..."

Javier's gaze softened as he listened to your heartfelt words. He reached out, gently brushing away your tears with his thumb, his touch sending a wave of warmth through you.

"I missed you too, every moment," he admitted, his voice filled with raw emotion. "Not a day went by when I didn't think about you. Te amo."

"Javi?" you spoke softly, wiping your tears and turning your body to fully face him.

"Yes, bonita?" he said, and your stomach fluttered with thousands of butterflies that had been sleeping, waiting to hear that word he used to call you. Bonita, you'll always be his bonita.

"Kiss me already," you whispered, the words escaping your lips before you could hold them back.

With a tender smile, Javier leaned closer, his gaze softening as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. The air between you crackled with anticipation, the weight of months apart dissipating with each heartbeat.

As his lips met yours, a surge of warmth washed over you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering deep within. You let out a shaky moan when his tongue met yours, sending electricity to your core.

Javi growled at your reaction. He was so needed of your touch, your kisses; that skin-to-skin sensation he sink in when he made love with you. Cause even during the darkest moments when he feared he might spend the rest of his life behind bars, he couldn't bring himself to be with anyone else. He was yours, in body and spirit.

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You and Javi were hungry and had so much to talk about. So you guided him through the city, searching for somewhere quiet to eat and converse. As he sat across from you at the table, perusing the menu, you still couldn't believe he was actually there—free and as handsome as ever. It felt like years had passed since Bogotá, the last time you saw him. Or maybe you suddenly died, your heart finally giving up missing him, and that was heaven.

Javi finally looked up from the menu, his gaze meeting yours. "Everything okay, sweetheart?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes as his broad hand reached across the table to touch yours.

"No... I mean, yes!" you said, your voice trailing off. "It's just... I'm so, so happy you're here, but I still can't process what happened."

Javi smiled, his eyes reflecting a mixture of tenderness and longing. "I promise, mi vida, I'll never leave you again," he vowed, his words a silent promise to cherish and protect you for as long as he lived.

The waiter approached, and you both placed your orders. After she left, you spoke again. "How did you find me?" you asked with genuine curiosity.

Monterrey was a sprawling metropolis, and in the '90s world, finding something or someone without an address or a phone number was no small feat.

Javier leaned forward, his expression radiating warmth. "It wasn't easy, but I remembered when you told me about going to church every Sunday with your family," he began, his voice low and intimate. "I recalled the name of the church and the municipality, so as soon as I arrived in the city, I searched for it. It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to get a lead, and it paid off. I found the right one."

You nodded, deeply impressed by his determination and resourcefulness. He was a proper DEA agent who spent years looking for and taking down sicarios. Of course, he was going to find his girlfriend on the first try. It was very sweet how he would do anything just to be with you, though, to have you back.

"I was fuckin' terrified that you were angry with me for leaving you like that," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "Or worse, that you may have someone else already."

You looked at Javier, sensing the vulnerability in his eyes, and felt a pang of empathy. The thought of him fearing your anger or the possibility of you being with someone else touched you deeply.

"Javi, I could never be angry with you for trying to protect me," you said softly. "I was angry and devastated at first, I'm not gonna lie," you confessed, your chest aching with memories of those endless nights of overthinking and tears. "But it wasn't directed towards you, but towards life. I couldn't accept the decision you had to make, but with time, I came to understand that you only wished the best for me, and it was very sweet and unselfish."

You reached your delicate hand across the table to grasp his. "And as for someone else, there's never been anyone else for me. It's always been you."

His eyes softened, relief flooding his features as he squeezed your hand gently. "You're the only one for me, too, bonita. You're the best thing that could ever happen to this son of a bitch."

You leaned forward to kiss his lips. The familiarity of his touch was overwhelming and comforting at the same time.

When the meal was over and both of you were back in his truck, you asked him where he was staying.

Javier glanced at you, his expression thoughtful as he considered your question. He mentioned a hotel downtown, and you recognized it from what you had heard.

"You can stay a couple of days. I want to show you the city and introduce you properly to my family, if you don't mind," you proposed.

"Me encantaría pasar todo el tiempo del mundo contigo, mi vida preciosa," he said, and you flushed at the sweet nickname. "Actually, I was thinking about moving to a hotel closer to your house."

"That won't be necessary. You can stay with me," you offered without hesitation, feeling a rush of warmth at the idea of having him close again. "I'm living with my abuelo y mi mamá."

"I don't want to be a bother," he began, but you took his hand gently and looked into his puppy eyes.

"You're family now, and family never bothers," you assured him. "My abuelo has a spacious house, and you can stay in the guest bedroom. You know, we can sleep together..."

"That's okay, baby. I understand," he agreed, leaning over to place a kiss on your lips. "So, where do you want to go now? Wanna go home?" he asked, turning on the gear.

"Actually," you began, your cheeks burning and your heart pounding with anticipation, "I was thinking that we could go to your hotel."

With a mischievous grin, Javier glanced at you, his eyes alight with excitement. "Can we?" he asked, his voice filled with playful anticipation.

You smiled shyly, nodding as your cheeks turned cherry red. "Unless you want to spend the evening elsewhere."

Javier's eyes sparkled with amusement as he caught your playful tone. "Oh, I'm perfectly content to spend the evening wherever you desire," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

You chuckled softly, feeling a rush of excitement tinged with nervousness.

"Be careful what you wish for, baby," he added, his voice filled with longing. "I've missed you so damn much."

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The hotel room was nice, elegant and spacious. But of course you didn't noticed that at first, as you were very busy devouring Javi's mouth. He guided you towards the bed, hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips; yours cupping his head.

"I love you," he muttered against your mouth, pausing briefly as you unbuttoned his shirt. "You don't have any idea how much I needed you. I couldn't breathe..."

His voice wavered with emotion, and you couldn't help but notice the vulnerability in his tone. Your fingers brushed against his lips, a silent gesture of reassurance. You still had a lot of questions, things that you would like to know, but you were sure that you had a lot of time to do it. For example, when his next move was to get rid of his shirt and you saw the scar on his side, where you knew he had been shot. Your fingers traced the damaged skin, your throat constricting at the sight of him being hurt, where he could have lost his life...

In that moment, you didn't want to cry anymore, to regret things that, fortunately, were in the past now.

"I'm here," your voice was barely a whisper, but he was close enough to hear every word. "I'm not going anywhere."

Javi nodded in agreement, leaning in to meet your lips once again. His skilled fingers unzipped the back of your dress, sending shivers all over your body as his fingertips met your skin. The light fabric pooled around your feet, his gaze darkening as it roamed over your body with desire.

His hands captured your waist, caressing the skin of your ribs and hips. His touch felt desperate, yet gentle. His fingers traced the exposed, soft skin at the edge of your bra, then smoothly moved to unclasp it, freeing the lace that covered your breasts.

You were hypnotized by the waves of heat emanating from both your naked torsos. Restless to relive that skin-to-skin sensation you longed for so much.

"God, how I missed your body," he whispered, almost unconsciously, as he devoured you with his eyes.

Your cheeks flushed even more, a shy smile appearing on your lips. "And I missed your touch, Javi," you confessed back.

With a mischievous grin, Javier glanced at you, his eyes alight with excitement. "Did you?," his voice filled with playfulness. "Did you touch yourself when you missed me?" He wanted to know. You nodded, an innocent gesture that made his cock throb on his pants. "C'mere. Show me," he ordered, leading you to the bed, where he had you lie back in the center.

Javi knelt in front of you, between your legs, your core aching with anticipation. "C'mon, take your panties off," he ordered, and you gladly obeyed.

Pushing your hips up, you grasped the edges of your panties with your fingers and began to slide the garment down your legs.

He couldn't help but hiss when he saw the glistening between your folds, where your honey pooled for him. "Touch yourself, baby, just like how you did when you were thinking of me," he whispered.

You traced a path on your skin, from the place above your belly button, down your body until your delicate middle finger met your slick. Javier was mesmerized as he watched you move up and down along your pussy, taking extra care every time you reached your clit, causing little whimpers to escape from your lips.

Suddenly, Javi felt his pants getting tighter; it was almost painful not to free himself. His hands went to his belt, and he started working on it. "Keep going," he encouraged you, as your eyes followed the glorious path of pubic hair that preceded his cock. You bit your lip, intensifying the movements on your pussy, the sound of your wetness filling the room.

"Don't be shy," he said, his voice thick with lust. "That little pussy looks so good."

You took his word and inserted one finger into your warm body. His breath quivered at the sight; he couldn't contain himself anymore.

"How does it feel?" he asked, as he took his hardened cock out of his briefs. You whimpered at the sight, your walls clenching, as if they were screaming to be stretched by its length. Javi took himself in hand and started jerking off to satisfy his own itch.

"G-good," you mumbled. It was true, but you knew it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock inside you. So you added a second finger to try to calm your urgency, the gushing sounds surrounding you as you moved your fingers in and out of your pussy. But it wasn't enough. You wanted him.

"Javi..." you murmured.

"Tell me, bonita," he responded, his voice filled with anticipation. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you said, without stopping your movements.

"You want me? You want this?" he teased, showing off his cock right in front of you. A pearl of precum glistened on its tip, veins pulsating along its length. Your mouth watered at the sight. "C'mon, take it. It's yours."

He didn't have to tell you twice. You stopped what you were doing and knelt on the mattress to press your body against his. Your hand went directly to his cock, eliciting a growl from his chest.

Javi's cock fit perfectly in your tiny hand as you moved it up and down while kissing him passionately.

You let your body fall over his, and he didn't hesitate to allow himself to be placed underneath you. Your lips then moved to his neck, traveling down to his chest, his stomach... When he realized you were actually going south, he took your chin and made you look at him.

"That's not necessary..." he clarify. He wasn't expecting that.

"I want to," you insisted.

Without another word, you positioned yourself right over his cock, taking it in your hand and placing a kiss on its tip. "Fuck..." he reacted.

You were unsure what to do, as it was the first time you'd done it. You only wanted to make him feel good.

So you tried licking its head, the salty taste on your tongue making your pussy clench around nothing. Then, you attempted to take the head into your warm mouth. You had to open your mouth wider than you expected, your hand gently placed on its base. It was too big, hard, and too long.

You bobbed your head at a constant rhythm, encouraged by the moans and hisses he began to let out. Javi's hand went to your hair, gathering it into a ponytail, both to let you work easily and to clear his view. "Good job, baby," he praised.

When you tried to go further, its head at the back of your throat made you gag, so you had to take a breath. "Take it easy," he said reassuringly as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "You're doin' amazing."

You went back to it, but this time a little lower. "Holy shhh..." he growled, feeling the wetness and warmth of your tongue licking his balls. They tasted salty, heavy on your lips. You closed your hand around his length, moving it up and down to please him. Slurping noises filled the room, amplifying the intensity. "You look so pretty taking my cock like that baby."

You alternated between using your mouth and your hand on his cock and his balls, growing more confident with each movement, trying to take him deeper as you could. Your mouth felt like heaven for him, but he needed to stop. He wanted to fuck to you properly instead of just cum on your tongue. There would be another chance for that.

After a moment, Javi sat on the bed and gestured for you to do the same. You could barely catch your breath before his mouth captured yours, his arm around your waist. You knelt in front of him, providing easy access to your breasts, and he didn't miss the opportunity, capturing one of your nipples into his mouth. You threw your head back, moaning at the sensation, your fingers tangled in his hair.

He worshipped your body, squeezing your hips and back, massaging your ass with his broad hands. Then his fingers found your soaked pussy, taking advantage of how wet you were as he introduced one of them inside you. You whimpered, moving your hips over his hand, desperate to quell the need for him. He added a second thick finger, stretching you so damn good. They slipped in and out without effort, and Javi could feel your slick running down the bare palm of his hand.

Javi licked the sensitive skin of your nipple before shifting to your other breast. He sucked and played with the tip of his tongue on the nipple, just like he did when he played with your clit, like a starved man.

"Javi..." you whimpered.

Once he was satisfied with how wet you were, he guided his cock to your entrance as you instinctively lowered your hips. Both of you moaned as he made his way inside you, stretching your walls. The sensation was painfully familiar for both of you, the feeling of being connected in an intimate, raw way. It was as if you were born for each other, like you belonged together beyond the physical realm.

He didn't waste any time, going straight to help you move over him. Once you understood the assignment, your hips started working almost on their own. "That's it, bonita, give it to me."

You could feel him very deep inside you, his tip brushing against the entrance of your cervix, his balls thrusting against you every time you went down.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him, engaging in a battle of tongues and a tangle of legs.

"Your cock feels amazing, mi amor, la extrañé mucho," you whispered in his ear before you bite his earlobe.

"That's why you wanted to suck my cock?" he asked, his fingers gripping tighter on your hips, urging you to move faster. "My fuckin' dirty girl, so right for me..."

"Wanna see how dirty I can get?" placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him back so he could lie down again.

He was pleased with the view. The curves of your body, every roll, every pore, every freckle, every stretch mark. You were so sexy and gorgeous.

He tried to reach for your body, but you took his wrists and placed them over his head. You started moving your hips: up and down, front and back. At first, it was slow, savoring every inch of his cock slipping inside you. Then, you moved faster, riding him as whimpers escaped from your mouth, joining the skin-to-skin sound of your bodies thrusting together. Your hands went to his chest for more balance as you rode him.

"That's it, baby. Don't stop...fuck..." he grunted, his hands on your ass to help you keep going.

You slowed down when your legs began to ache, leaning down to capture his lips. His broad, warm hands caressed your hair, trailing down to your shoulders and back until they reached your waist. With a swift, smooth movement, Javi turned you around. Before you could process it, your body was beneath his, and he penetrated you again. This time, the soft moan you made when you felt him inside was silenced by his mouth.

"I love you, bonita," he promised, moving his pelvis against yours.

With your hands cupping his head, little whimpers escaping your lips, you echoed the sentiment. "I love you so much, Javi."

His thrusts grew harder and faster, his arms bearing his weight to avoid crushing you. His growls and whimpers were music to your ears. Your lips caressed the soft skin of his neck, your hands roamed everywhere along his broad back. He was lost in you, shivers crossing his entire being every time he reached that deep spot inside you, eliciting cries of his name from your lips.

"You like that, bonita? Hm?" he breathed out, his voice captivated by his own pleasure. "Fuck, I love your pussy."

Your orgasm was so close, he could tell by the way your walls clenched around his length, and the rivers of your nectar emanating from your cunt. You tried to warn him, but you could only mumble as your body shuddered beneath him. "I know, baby... Fuck, I'm gonna cum too."

You felt how he was doubtful about his next move. He wanted you to come, of course, but he was so dangerously close to his own release that he needed to be careful not to come inside you. But you were so horny and lost on the pleasure that you knew you want his load dripping out your pussy.

So you tangled your legs around his torso, forcing him inside you. "I'm gonna cum..." he warned.

"It's okay... I want you to fill me up..." you moan.

"Yeah? That's what you want, honey?" He cooed, his lips placing soft, wet kissed on your jawline.

You nodded, "Ye-yes! Fuck, Javiii!" that's the only thing you could say, as his movements were almost erratic, hungrily against you.

"I'm gonna fuck a baby into you... What about that?" he grunted, the mere thought of it made the both of you shiver with pleasure.

"Yes! Oh my... Yes! I-wa.... I'm wanna have your baby, Javi," you mumbled, so lost on the moment that you couldn't even think about the weight of the words you spoke.

"I'm gonna cum so deep on you that you're gonna smell like me for days, baby."

Those were the words that made you finally lost it. Your entire body seemed to implode for a moment before it exploded on a devastating orgasm. Throwing your head back against the mattress, your nails digging on the muscles of his arms and toes curling as your squirted on his cock. A silent scream of pleasure took the shape of Javi's name.

With one last final thrust, Javier followed you reaching his release between deep-voice whimpers and grunts of your name over and over again. You felt his warm load filling up, mixing with your slick, making you clenched even more, milking him so damn good.

As he felt himself softening, he pulled out and lay beside you as both of you tried to catch your breath again. Finally, Javi wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest, the warmth of his body comforting against your skin. You lay there together in silence, the only sounds filling the room were the rhythmic beating of your hearts and the soft exhales as you both recovered from the intensity of your lovemaking.

After a while, Javier felt your body shake a bit, and it wasn't long before he heard you sniffing. Were you crying? He tried to see your face, but you hid from him with your face against his chest. It was evident that you were crying. He felt a pang in his chest, concern washing over his face as he tried to make you look up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice charged with worry and guilt. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no," you rushed to say, wiping your tears with your fingers as his brushed your hair and placed it behind your ear. "You didn't do anything. I'm just so happy."

Javier's expression softened as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I'm here, mi amor," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm not leaving you ever again."

You melted into his embrace, feeling safe and loved in his arms, the bliss of your orgasms still lingering on your bodies. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. "I really meant it."

Struggling not to fall asleep, since you still had to return to your grandfather's house, you asked, "What?" Your voice was soft, barely audible above the hushed rhythm of your breathing.

"I want to have babies with you." His words hung in the air, tinged with both sincerity and excitement.

You flushed, a warmth spreading across your cheeks as you processed his declaration. Your heart started to beat faster, and you didn’t even think he was completely serious yet.

"Well, we have to get married first, then," you replied, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

"I know,” he added, determination on his tone, “I'm going to ask your grandfather for your hand tomorrow." His eyes meeting yours with unwavering resolve.

"Are you serious?" Your voice was tinged with surprise, a mixture of disbelief and anticipation.

Javier nodded, his gaze softening as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Absolutely serious," he affirmed, his tone earnest. "¿Quieres casarte conmigo?”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a rush of emotions welling up inside you. New tears of joy fell down your cheeks as you nodded repeatedly. "¡Sí! Sí quiero, Javi. Quiero casarme contigo," you admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Then it's settled," he declared, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer to him again. "Tomorrow, I'll talk to your grandfather, and soon after, we'll start planning our wedding."

You nestled closer to him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You still couldn’t believe what was happening in that moment. Just that morning, your heart ached with his absence, and you couldn't imagine seeing him ever again. If someone had told you that same afternoon you would be in his arms again, making love with him, and practically engaged, you wouldn't have believed it. You would have thought it was a cruel joke. And yet, there he was with you, vowing to share a life together.

NEXT CHAPTER

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accio-victuuri · 7 months

Text

Sugar Rush : October CPNs

This was an insane month to say the least, I’m not even exaggerating. Things happened that will go down in fandom history. Our detective skills in looking for places and trying to piece a story was tested and the clowning was at it’s peak. I would have to say that by far, this year, it’s this month that generated lots of noise. Both sides were just throwing sweets at us and we can’t even keep up.

It also proved once more the charm of turtle cpns and why context, history and time is important to fully enjoy a candy:

“The charm of turtle candy is that it is incomplete. It is not a one-time solution. You feel suspicious at the beginning, but you are more sure later, and then at some unknown moment in the future, you suddenly get it. The correct answer, everything forms a closed loop, it's so cool”

• YH poster for WYB is from a BJYX fansite

• On 10/1, there has been some talk about WYB’s hair hiding beneath his beanie when he arrived at the airport to Paris. People’s guess is that he is blonde. Some people are connecting it to the blonde character in the XZS vlog.

People are free to interpret this however they want, as a candy, it appears to ZZ giving us a clue as to WYB dyeing his hair. Personally tho, this person is a member of GG’s staff & his friend who also takes part in putting out the amazing materials we get. People particularly remembered one of them had blonde hair during MFW. Anyway, I understand why people are so happy about this & interpreting it the way they do and go ahead and it this if you want 🍭

It also doesn’t help that the character kinda looks like WYB in Paris which is some next level coincidence. I can’t even with this fandom.

• I’m adding this beautiful analysis of Pie @potteresque-ire about the Mid Autumn festival photos posted by our boys. It’s technically from last month but i already published it before I read this meta. It just gives more weight to the meaning of it aside from how it matches 🌙

• Mengniu exhibit with zz and wyb standees

• Camera/Leica CPN : This has actually become everyone’s favorite candy of the year. It started out so simple and almost like a galaxy brain sort of clowning but both sides ended up “confirming” what we speculated. I have talked about this at length and in different parts below :

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

10/6, WYB continues to show off his camera. Almost all the photos in the set released by YBO, he is holding it, and there are falling cameras on Weibo in that post!!!! 📸

There is also this CPN on what WYB is taking a photo of and with people using google earth and comparing, they found out it’s the number 23. What a beautiful number. He really loves it! ♥️

• Same place, different times. This is so bittersweet to me. One day, they will get that Romantic Paris getaway together 🖤

• XZ 1005 birthday CPNs : one // two 🎂

• A photography studio shared a shot of GG for his bday and the kadian is 18:23. This same company also released a bday photo for WYB’s. They have worked with the boys a couple of time.

• The same description of something being like a film

• Glasswork art piece from France that could have been a gift and souvenir for GG

• Camping site and it’s connection to WYB selfie - At this point, there’s been so many “evidence” collected by bxgs and the most accurate date is really 8/14-8/15 that this “celebration” was done. There are also posts from people who visited the place and a motorcycle “parade” took place, so we know it’s a popular place to ride your moto. It’s one of the “services” they provide and looks like something that WYB took advantage of.

• Is one of the photographers yibo? 📸

• GG’s rope necklace and it’s meaning

• XZS birthday video taking some inspiration from a queer themed short film “we are animals”

• The camping trip was a team building of XZS and YBO?

• Both of them so sexy 🔥🔥🔥🔥

• 10/12 ZSWW rumor house & fake story content 🤍

• WYB’s 10/13 Selfie : part one / part two

• A galaxy brain cpn of XZS 10/13 post’s caption

• On 10/16, XZ released a tribute song which is government sponsored of course. In the past months, the go-to person we usually see singing for these causes is WYB and now it’s XZ. This is not exactly CPN, but i like the way that they are both people seen as positive influences and may be used to sing for certain events. Maybe one day they can do a duet? LOL.

• This one is so funny, there is an interview in a Taiwan TV show i guess. and the question was, “Talk about the general interests of gay men in Taiwan” ; the person answering is also gay and he said it’s : fitness, mountain climbing, raising cats, and Shiba Inu. 😂😂😂😂

LOL. Why does it remind us of two people? It’s so specific. Who have always wanted to raise both a car and a dog (shiba inu) and is currently loving fitness and mountain climbing. They might as well add camping on there 🤪🤪🤪

I don’t really believe in stereotypes and that there is a certain “checklist” that makes you gay or whatever— your interests are personal and what you enjoy. maybe you will be influenced by your environment but just do what you want. Tho I understand why this was so amusing to c-turtles cause they immediately thought of ZZ & WYB when they saw this.

• Even holding the camera is the same 😂✌🏼like a true photographer. Not acting all cute and using a camera to “pose” but actually using it.

• Updated mole signature by XZS

• XZS video x Bottled Joy Parallel. 🫶🏼 ; and the fact that Bobo’s is by Bottled Joy, a brand who is known to be BJYX bias ( allegedly ) . Tho this was most likely filmed before that XZS video. A happy coincidence. && This is the renewal we have been waiting for.

• Luoyang Tourism video uses a BGM of a song by ZZ

• BJYX and Skydiving 🪂

• 130 fake rumors compilation

• Wuzhen Day 3 Yibo shirt CPN ⛳️

=======

See you all next month for another round up! 💛

Previous Posts: Jan-June 2023 / July / August / September

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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druidshollow · 8 months

Note

”its a small thing” you said. “just a quick doodle” you said.

ITS BEEN A MONTH AND A HALF OF OFF THE STRING. not that I’m complaining, I actually have a question!

Did you specifically create Dune and the MurderSquad just for this au, or were they around before?

WHEN I GOT THIS ASK IT HAD ONLY BEEN 15 DAYS WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH. now its been almost a month. but still.

i made every member of dunes group (including her) for the au, except for ten silver roots, who already existed!

^^^you can tell this art isnt as recent because before the cartoon tears phrases has normal sized eyes and not massive saucers

i designed him so phrases would have a friend and not be alone after rivers' collapse. he ended up being part of dunes group because he needed to be phrases' neighbour and they dont really have any neighbours in any other direction, and because having spotty communications is relevant to root's canon story AND dunes au story so it works well for them to share a group

root makes three slugcats in canon! (well, two and a half. he designed the lovers but phrases actually purposed their half) after a long period of time almost all of the Civilizing Divide group has either fallen or gone silent. in an attempt not to be alone, root sends out the Frequencer. this is how he meets phrases! after they meet they create the Lovers together (this is canon timeline)

ive never drawn these three til now and their designs are super likely to be different next time

root never got along with his local group, im thinking thanks to dune. shes got tight ties in the group, and everyone who doesnt like her so much probably likes new whimsy, who is arguably even more gossipy, so dune just spread anti-root propaganda to her whole family

i dont exactly know WHAT root did to earn dune's ire. maybe he ratted her out on or got her in trouble for something very early on before he really understood social norms and since shes so spiteful she just NEVER got over it

(dune being a bully is canon in canon timeline and os au)

#druid draw #oc posting #rain world oc #iterator oc #slugcat oc #root #os root #os dune #off string au #i think ive drawn every member of dunes group once now #i mightve missed a couple #os space #space #dune

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orangecharactersmackdown · 1 year

Text

(sorry for the graphic-design-is-my-passion level editing)

6 brackets! 192 characters! 96 pairs enter, 1 character leaves! (Well, it's weeded down to 6 characters, then we have some semi finals, and THEN 1 character leaves!)

The voting will begin Wednesday, March 15. First, Round 1 of Bracket 1 will be posted, then the next day, Round 1 of Bracket 2, and the day after, Round 1 of Bracket 3, and so on and so forth. They will be under #orange poll. Propaganda (if anyone chooses to make any) is under #propaganda. Each of the polls will be up for 3 days, so each round of voting follows each other.

Under the cut is all the pairs and their respective brackets. Get ready to vote!

BRACKET 1

Garfield (Garfield) VS Applejack (MLP)

Hinata Shouyou (Haikyuu!!) VS Kel (Omori)

Broken Vessel (Hollow Knight) VS Claus (Mother 3)

Cole Brookstone (Ninjago) VS Skylor Chen (Ninjago)

Rory the Builder (Club Penguin) VS Orange Puffle (Club Penguin)

Emma (The Promised Neverland) VS Ava Ire (Ava's Demon)

Raihan (Pokemon) VS Misty (Pokemon)

Dexter Grif (Red vs Blue) VS Felix Gates (Red vs Blue)

Zenitsu (Demon Slayer) VS Nami (One Piece)

Stella of Solaria (Winx Club) VS Amber the Orange Fairy (Rainbow Magic)

Orange Inkling Girl (Splatoon) VS Crash Bandicoot (Crash Bandicoot)

Ernie (Sesame Street) VS Pepe the King Prawn (The Muppets)

Jack (Candies 'n Curses) VS Jack Pumpkinhead (The Marvelous Land of Oz)

Tintin (The Adventures of Tintin) VS Toad (Frog & Toad are Friends)

Orange Blossom (Strawberry Shortcake) VS Jade Chan (Jackie Chan Adventures)

Leo Tsukinaga (Ensemble Stars) VS Ren Jinguji (Uta no Prince Sama)

BRACKET 2

Annoying Orange (Annoying Orange) VS Orange Side (Sanders Sides)

Davesprite (Homestuck) VS Tavros Nitram (Homestuck)

Merida (Brave) VS Scar (The Lion King)

Numbuh 4 (Code Name: Kids Next Door) VS Lazlo (Camp Lazlo)

Nemo (Finding Nemo) VS Marlin (Finding Nemo)

Sundrop (FNAF: Security Breach) VS Jack Kennedy (Day Shift at Freddy's)

Waai Fu (Arknights) VS Jodie Caldwell (Super Lesbian Animal RPG)

Shannon (OK-KO!) VS Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Panette (Fire Emblem: Engage) VS Pandreo (Fire Emblem: Engage)

Marine The Raccoon (Sonic franchise) VS Cream The Rabbit (Sonic franchise)

Kyo Sohma (Fruits Basket) VS Asuka Langley Soryu (Neon Genesis Evangelion)

Hagumi Kitazawa (BanG Dream!) VS Chika Takami (Love Live!)

Pump (Spooky Month) VS Pumpkin Pie Cookie (Cookie Run)

Scooter (The Muppets) VS Gobo Fraggle (Fraggle Rock)

Pukin (Magical Girl Raising Project) VS Top Speed (Magical Girl Raising Project)

Scootaloo (MLP) VS Sunburst (MLP)

BRACKET 3

Darwin Watterson (The Amazing World of Gumball) VS Wander (Wander Over Yonder)

Winnie (Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School) VS August (Cryptid Crush)

Grillby (Undertale) VS Seam (Deltarune)

Phineas Flynn (Phineas & Ferb) VS Candace Flynn (Phineas & Ferb)

Calcifer (Howl's Moving Castle) VS Ponyo (Ponyo)

Juri Arisugawa (Revolutionary Girl Utena) VS Sailor Venus/Minako Aino (Sailor Moon)

Gordon Freeman (HLVRAI) VS Darnold (HLVRAI)

Morshu (LOZ: The Faces of Evil) VS King Harkinian (LOZ: The Faces of Evil)

Aang (Avatar: The Last Airbender) VS Starfire (Teen Titans)

Hamtaro (Hamtaro) VS Heathcliff (Heathcliff)

Cure Soleil (Star Twinkle Precure) VS Cure Sunny (Smile Precure)

Zora Salazar (Epithet Erased) VS Arthur Kingsmen (Mystery Skulls)

Oz (Monster Prom) VS Ritsuka Fujimaru (Fate/Grand Order)

Mo Guan Shan (19 Days) VS Beebi (Wonderlab)

Orange Bird (Disney) VS Peacock (Skullgirls)

Olette (Kingdom Hearts 2) VS Gumi (Vocaloid)

BRACKET 4

Naruto Uzumaki (Naruto Shippuden) VS Narancia Ghigira (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure)

Tigger (Winnie the Pooh) VS Hobbes (Calvin & Hobbes)

Leon Kuwata (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc) VS Hiyoko Saionji (Danganronpa: Goodbye Despair)

Puss in Boots (Shrek Universe) VS Firestar (Warrior Cats)

Torchic (Pokemon) VS Tepig (Pokemon)

Tangy (Animal Crossing) VS Orange Cookie (Cookie Run)

Gordon Freeman (Half Life) VS Chell (Portal)

Amanda O'Neill (Little Witch Academia) VS Lotte Jansson (Little Witch Academia)

Mothra (Mothra films) VS Timid Bookworm (Sky: Children of the Light)

Matt (Wii Sports) VS Daisy (Super Mario Bros)

Levy McGarden (Fairy Tail) VS Hazuki Fujiwara (Ojamajo Doremi)

Futaba Sakura (Persona 5) VS Yosuke Hanamura (Persona 4)

Tracy Reznik (Identity V) VS Andy (Raggedy Ann & Andy: A Musical Adventure)

Vee (The Owl House) VS Coran (Voltron: Legendary Defender)

Yoimiya (Genshin Impact) VS Edna (Tales of Zestiria)

Rena Rouge (Miraculous Ladybug) VS Takao Kazunari (Kuroko no Basket)

BRACKET 5

Tails (Sonic 2, 1992) VS Handy (Happy Tree Friends)

Padparadscha (Steven Universe) VS Jasper (Steven Universe)

Opened Can of Well Cheers (Lobotomy Corporation) VS SCP-999 (SCP Foundation)

The Second Coming (Animator vs Animation) VS King Orange (Animator vs Animation)

Giraffe Furby VS Witch Furby

Chester Cheetah VS Tony the Tiger

Tsukasa Tenma (Project SEKAI) VS Tsukasa Ebisu (Revue Starlight: Relive)

Kuruto Ryuki (AI: The Somnium Files) VS Roman Torchwik (RWBY)

Son Goku (Dragon Ball) VS Ichigo Kurosaki (Bleach)

Velma Dinkley (Scooby-Doo) VS Fry (Futurama)

Saki Nikaido (Zombieland Saga) VS Toralei Stripe (Monster High)

Beelzebub (Obey Me!) VS Tohri Nishikikouji (Hatoful Boyfriend)

Gaius (Fire Emblem Awakening) VS Hershel Layton (Professor Layton)

Retsuko (Aggretsuko) VS Flame Princess (Adventure Time)

Kiri Koshiba (Beauty Pop) VS Sakura Chiyo (Monthly Girl's Nozaki-kun)

Asano Gakushuu (Assassination Classroom) VS Akito Shinonome (Project SEKAI)

BRACKET 6

Mikey (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) VS Dirk Strider (Homestuck)

Troy Barnes (Community) VS Oluwande Boodhari (Our Flag Means Death)

Tigress (Kung Fu Panda) VS Tigress (Carmen Sandiego)

Kim Possible (Kim Possible) VS Tulip Olsen (infinity Train)

Waddle Dee (Kirby) VS Morpho Knight (Kirby)

Ace (Katamari Damacy) VS Shikao (Katamari Damacy)

Kim Possible (Kim Possible) VS Tulip Olsen (infinity Train)

Orange Juice (Inanimate Insanity) VS The Lorax (The Lorax)

Athena Cykes (Ace Attorney) VS Damon Gant (Ace Attorney)

Rio Ranger (Your Turn To Die) VS Gin Ibushi (Your Turn To Die)

Caleb Widogast (Critical Role) VS Neil Josten (All For The Game)

Tracer (Overwatch) VS Samus Aran (Metroid)

Portia (The Arcana) VS Navra (The Arcana)

Sphene (Houseki no Kuni) VS Zircon (Houseki no Kuni)

Penny (Big Top Burger) VS The Sorceress (He-Man)

Ahiru (Princess Tutu) VS Sara (Mermaid Melody Pichi Pichi Pitch)

Kipper (Kipper the Dog) VS Ruff Ruffman (Fetch! with Ruff Ruffman)

#orangecharactersmackdown #masterpost #a few hours later than i expected to get this done but here it is!!#im excited!!#if theres an issue somewhere in here (misspellings etc) lmk

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whaleofatjme1920 · 1 year

Note

Hi! So I had a request for Avatar the way of water where the reader is a huge daddy’s girl and is also like Jake’s favorite because she rarely gets into trouble but when she does Jake gets super angry and disappointed in her but she stands her ground and when it gets to much she just storms away and since then they bump heads constantly and aren’t the same anymore. Could you write how they are forced to make up by the family brcause they just can’t handle the tension anymore? I would be very happy if you use my idea. Stay healthy and don’t overwork yourself!

Sullys Stick Together

[F!Reader, but could be read as gender neutral I don't actually give you any pronouns or code you any way.]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

Spoilers for The Way of Water in here!!

[AN: My apologies this took like a month for me to do,,, I honestly take my time with things these days. Anyways, here's this for you! Just headcanons because my energy is going towards uni.]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Everyone in the family is tired of the passive aggressiveness you and your father are showing towards each other at this point. It's ridiculous how you two just actively refuse to talk about it or even attempt to make up.

Look, it was one mistake. ONE. Your father had already expected Lo'ak to screw around, but you? His golden child? The one who exceeds his expectations? The one who has done nothing but good the entire odd 15 or so years you've been alive? How could you mess around that badly? Making him look like a fool in front of Ronal and Tonowari... He asked you to pull your weight, not throw yourself head first into dangerous situations and actively disobey orders.

And to make it worse, you argued with him! Your anger to defend your brother Lo'ak and yourself had boiled over. It wasn't entirely your fault that you were beyond the reef. Ao'nung and Rotxo were truly the ones to blame! They played a cruel trick on you and your brother and you almost lost your lives in the process! And to make matters worse, Lo'ak took the blame. You wanted to tell Tonowari what had really happened and Lo'ak stopped you!

You tried to really explain this to your father. His anger shouldn't be directed towards Lo'ak or you. Your father didn't care and said that you weren't playing by Omaticaya standards, this was now Metkayina territory, and you all had to play and live by their rules.

What a load of bullshit. Verbatim, that's all you could say. Tail flicking downwards in annoyance, ears pressed flat against your skull - hell you even hissed at your father baring sharp canines to to further your ire at him - you couldn't understand why he was just rolling over and letting the Metkayina lord over him.

How they treated your sister, Kiri, how they almost got Lo'ak and yourself killed, the whispers of how inept you and your family were.... Fitting in here wasn't easy.

That was a rough night. Your father was more than upset with you and the space all of you lived in became awkward, cold and hostile. Your mother spent more than enough time hashing things out with your father but truly only the two of you could make this right.

"Your child has a strong heart," she said. "They take strongly after you. You know this." Your mother's voice was soothing and hushed as she spoke to your father. "Please, all they want to do is prove their point. It was not done in a good way, but they love you and cannot tell why you act and treat them, and their siblings otherwise."

Anyways there's no actual forcing here. While everyone is very tired of you two bumping heads, no one actually forces the two of you to make up. Neteyam might approach your father and try to sway his opinions, Tuk will often do something similar, no one can make things right between the two of you but you. Kiri doesn't really want to do anything either of you are uncomfortable with, as she respects you as her sibling, and Jake as her father but man she doesn't like the awkward energy either. I think she's just much more "teenage angst and sass" in her approaches to BOTH of you.

Neytiri is a bit more direct in her approach, often saying "your child misses you" or something to that effect. She's also a bit more blunt in believing Jake is the adult and he should make the first step to mending the relationship. However, Neytiri kinda gets behind your reasoning. She doesn't like being Metkayina either. She misses the forest. Misses being Omaticaya, and a tsahik in her own right.

Lo'ak argues with his father too. He's got your back through and through and hates that Jake is being such a hard ass on you.

Eventually, things just kinda come to an emotional head and you and your father talk it out. And it's done in that dad way of not actually addressing what had happened but rather understanding all you can do is move forward from the incident and make vague allusions to it later on.

It kinda works - Neytiri gets to stop nagging Jake to speak with you and your siblings can go back to not having to whisper about you.

Jake loves you. Of course he does. You're his child, he will always be your father, that is non negotiable.

But damn, you take after him just a bit too much.

#jake sully headcanon #jake sully x reader #neytiri headcanon #neytiri x reader #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar x reader #avatar x reader #james cameron avatar

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ao3isthehomogod · 2 years

Text

I'm Sorry

Days, months, years?

Lance couldn't tell. It had felt like forever he had stood in front of that pod. That horried pod he refused to take his eyes off of.

"your an idiot, a fucking idiot."

Lance's words felt like daggers in Keith's heart. But he had to understand where the paladin was coming from.

"Seriously this sucks man, I mean this really sucks"

Lance has every intention of sounding angry, but the cracks in his voice and the way is hands trembled while applying pressure to Keith's bare chest was a dead give away.

He was terrified

"L-lance...i'm sorry"

His voice was raspy and unclear, but Lance heard every word.

"No- no we are not doing this."

"We are not having that sappy near death conversation right now."

"You're going to be fine. We'll get you in a pod, e-everything w-w-ill be f-fine"

Lance was surpised it took himself this long, but now he finally broke, hiding his face in Keith's hair.

"-ance?"

Keith tried, he tired so hard, but-

"L-lance..i'm -ired"

The blue paladin shot up, immediatly pressing harder on Keith's wound that was now bleeding profously.

"no- no no no, Keith! Buddy I need you to stay awake! Help will be here soon I-I promise but-"

His voice broke

"please, don'-"

"don't d-do this..."

Their eyes met, both filled to the brim with tears. But Keith's started fluttering.

"-im -orry...Lance."

His eyes closed, and Lance felt his heart stop there and then.

"no! Keith please!"

sob

"p-please d-dont do -is"

another sob

"HELP! SHIRO!? HUNK PIDGE?"

sob

"ANYONE! PLEASE"

sob

"p-please"

He held Keith tight; staring at his pale, sweaty, and nearly lifeless face. And holding back the desperate scream that clawed at his throught, causing him to wimper.

"im so sorry Keith"

"-nce"

"ance!"

"LANCE"

Lance shot up and let out a gasp

"God! Lance you scared the quiznak out of us!"

In an instant Lance felt Pidge's arns around him in a comforting way.

"That must have been one heck of a dream that it kept you that deep asleep. Weve been trying to wake you up for doboshes" -Coran

Lance blinked a couple times, still not fully adjusted to his surroundings. Thats when it hit him.

"Keith-"

His eyes fell on the still occupied pod in front of him. He let out a sigh. There still laid the boy, Keith.

The very boy he held in his arms as he felt his heart stop. Keith...stop.

And just like that, he felt himself crying again.

"H-hey Lance? Whats wrong?" - Hunk

The yellow paladin followed the others gaze to the pod and sighed.

"Lance I know you're worried, we all are but-"

Hunk paused, unable to find the right words.

Just then,

swish

When Lance looked up his heart speed up.

Kieth!

It all happened in slow motion.

Keiths limp body falling from the pod

Lance nearly tripping in his immediate response

And Lance feeling his entire being crumble as his body collided woth Keiths.

The sound of his beating heart comfirming Lance's nightmares to be false.

"Lance..?"

sob

"H-Hey buddy.." "How are you?"

silence

"I-I'm alright, I little sore...how long have I been in there?"

Lance hugged him tighter if even possible.

"About 15 quintants" -Coran

Keith sighed

"Well that explains it..." -Keith

The red paladin brought his gaze back to the boy in his arms.

"Lance?"

sob

"Woah Lance!"

"Hey whats wrong?"

Lance snuggled in the crook of Keith's neck.

"Hey, not that I dislike you hugging me...but your squeezing me really tight."

Lance immediatly lossened is grip. He chuckled nervously.

"Sorry man..guess I got a little carried away"

The rest of the team read the room, decideding-

"We'll give you two a minute" -Shiro

Then they left.

sob

Kieth's attention turned back to the boy in front of him.

"Lan-"

"i'm sorry"

sob

i'm so sorry if I had jus-"

His sentance was interrupted by Keith gently putting his arms around him.

"No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I put you through that"

Lance crumbled and sobbed into Keith's hair. Finding comfort in how much more healthy and warm Kieth had felt from the last him he held him in his arms.

Eventually, they both fell asleep. With the ressurance that the other was safe, and that everything would be okay again.

#voltron #klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #lance voltron #keith voltron #klangst #angst #major character death #major character injury #lgbtq #fanfic #klance fanfiction

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mariacallous · 3 months

Text

In the crowded labyrinth of the open market in downtown Chisinau, the capital city of Moldova, a babble of languages ripples through the throngs of traders hawking a bewildering array of fresh produce, cheap textiles, electronic wares, and much more. A customer may broach the terms of a deal in, say, Ukrainian, and get an answer in Romanian, or propose a price in Romanian and be answered in Russian. Among themselves, the traders from across this diminutive country of 2.5 million, wedged precariously between its outsized neighbors Romania and Ukraine, communicate in other tongues, too.

Moldova is a multiethnic country that wears its patchwork diversity on its sleeve. Particularly in urban centers, the majority Romanians live very much together with Ukrainians, Russians, and the Turkic Gagauz. But the war in Ukraine has completely upended the tenuous status quo that existed before February 2022. The war’s outcome, whether in Ukraine’s or Russia’s favor, has existential consequences for the tiny country nursing aspirations of joining the European Union.

Political convictions in Moldova have long spanned the gamut from aspirations of greater Romanian nationalism to Soviet nostalgia, from pro-Russia patriotism to civic pride in an independent, EU-embedded Moldova. This fractured landscape is also reflected in the country’s geography. Since the first days of its independence in 1991—when the Soviet Republic of Moldova jettisoned Soviet authority and declared statehood, basically for the first time ever—the Republic of Moldova itself has been fractured.

A breakaway, Russia-kowtowing enclave called Transnistria established itself east of the Dniester River—complete with about 1,500 Russian troops that remain there today—while the Gagauz minority, courted by Moscow and Ankara, staked out broad autonomy in the south.

Russian President Vladimir Putin’s first priority is to stop Moldova from joining the EU and integrating with the West, especially since the EU boosted Moldova to candidate status shortly after the onset of the Russia-Ukraine war. But his aspirations may be far wider. Last week, Russia drew the ire of Moldovan authorities by setting up polling stations in Transnistria for its roughly 200,000 residents to vote in the Russian presidential elections held from March 15 to 17. It was a move that harks back to the initial steps taken to absorb occupied territories in Crimea and elsewhere in eastern Ukraine into Russia itself.

“Everything is at stake for Moldova now,” said Alexei Tulbure, the director of the Moldovan Oral History Institute.

If there’s one thing that just about all of Moldova’s peoples agree upon, regardless of political ideology, it is that they have next to no agency to affect the fate of their country—and ultimately, the fate of their own futures. “Moldovans breathe quietly,” according to a Ukrainian saying, mocking the country’s helplessness.

“It’s in the back of our minds,” said Alina Radu, the founder of the independent weekly Ziarul de Garda, of the possibility of the country losing its territory, or autonomy, to Russia. She compared the threat that the country now faces to the first months of the Russia-Ukraine war in 2022, when the Russian military seemed to be on the doorstep of the nearby Ukrainian city of Odesa. Transnistria’s armies seemed to be preparing to lend Russia a hand there. Had they been successful, all of Moldova could have come under Russian domination.

The staging ground for any future assault on Moldova is still likely to be Ukraine. Putin regularly confirms that Odesa is a military priority and has recently stepped up missile attacks there. It is a development that Moldovans are watching with trepidation. It’s one that Moldova’s allies in the West should be watching, too.

Even over its grinding first decades—marred by civil war, raging corruption, abject poverty, and mass emigration—Moldova’s prospects weren’t as starkly imperiled as they are today. Unlike most Ukrainians—who declare that victory over Russia is the only possible outcome—Moldovans have thought through worst-case scenarios.

“If Ukraine is defeated and Russia carves out a land corridor to Transnistria, Moldova will effectively cease to exist as an independent county,” Radu explained. “If they cross the Dniester River to occupy Moldova proper, then most of the population could well flee to Romania and points in Europe.” Her entire editorial staff has fixed plans to relocate to offices in the Romanian cities of Iasi and Bucharest, she said.

This certainly, at the very least, would put an abrupt end to Moldova’s EU and NATO aspirations, which is Washington’s primary concern. Upon signing a security cooperation deal with France on March 7, Moldovan President Maia Sandu—a 51-year-old Romanian-speaking graduate of Harvard University’s Kennedy School of Government—told French President Emmanuel Macron that “our shared security is at stake. If the aggressor is not stopped, he will keep going, and the front line will keep moving closer. Closer to us, closer to you.”

Were Russia to take Moldova, it would open a second frontier with direct access to an EU member state. The United States is obviously aware of this threat and upped its defense assistance to Moldova from $3 million in 2022 to more than $30 million today. The United States and France also provided the country with hundreds of millions to shift its energy supply westward.

Ukraine, according to many Moldovans, including Sandu, is fighting for Moldova’s independence, too. “We’re very grateful to Ukraine,” said Ludmila D. Cojocaru, a historian at the National Museum of History of Moldova in Chisinau. “At the moment, it is the guarantor of our freedom.”

On the other hand, “if Ukraine pushes Russia back,” said Radu, the editor, “the Russian troops will have to leave separatist Transnistria, and it will dissolve.” As far as she is concerned, the peoples of Transnistria—hostages, she called them, to the criminal clique controlling the territory—would be more than welcome to join the Moldovan state in full. As for the alleged gangsters who have lorded over the region for 30 years, they will face justice—if they’re naïve enough to hang around, she said.

Until Russia launched its full-scale attack on Ukraine on Feb. 24, 2022, Moldova’s overwhelming geopolitical preoccupation was with the self-styled Transnistrian Moldovan Republic (PMR)—recognized as a state by no country in the world, not even Russia. Since a brief but bloody civil war in the region that took an estimated 700 lives in 1992, a hard-nosed, Russian-backed mafioso cartel named Sheriff Holding Co. has turned the vertical sliver of land into an entirely captured, one-party authoritarian state that conducts lucrative black-market business from the eastern bank of the Dniester.

The 90-minute minibus trip from Chisinau to PMR’s capital city, Tiraspol, passes a steady flow of traffic in the opposite direction: This workforce, which possesses Moldovan passports, can no longer find employment in Transnistria since its business to the east was cut off abruptly when Ukraine slammed shut the border last year, a body blow to the Sheriff cartel. At the Dniester, a solitary, AK-wielding Russian Army soldier stands in front of a makeshift border, not unlike Checkpoint Charlie in the divided Berlin.

Two flags fly from the checkpoint: the Russian flag and a green-and-red PMR flag that sometimes—but not all the time—sports a hammer and sickle in the upper right-hand corner just as had the flag of the Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic. In the empty, deafeningly quiet streets of Tiraspol, the only image more prevalent than the bust of Soviet leader Vladimir Lenin is the Sheriff logo with its Wild West-inspired star. (“Sheriff” was the nickname of Moldovan police officer Viktor Gushan, who is one of the former Soviet sphere’s wealthiest oligarchs.)

The conflict between Transnistria and the Moldovan state, which never ceded sovereignty over the eastern bank territory, remained largely frozen for years despite international diplomacy to initiate a thawing. As long as the matter remained unsolved, Sheriff’s honchos padded their coffers and Moscow maintained a forward pawn that kept Moldova off balance; through propaganda and puppets, Russia influenced Moldova’s internal politics to the extent that until 2021, all but one Moldovan government reflected positions largely in line with Moscow, much as did in Ukraine until 2014. Interestingly, until the Russian annexation of Crimea in 2014, Ukraine had sided largely with the Transnistrian ruling clique, business and Russian reinforcements flowing over the Ukraine border while Moldova remained tightly in check.

But now it is the Transnistrians who are on the back foot—and not sure how to play it. The narrow lick of land suddenly finds its greatest ally far away, and its residents are well aware that Ukraine could occupy it within a week, Anatolii Dirun, a former Transnistrian politician, told me. Resupply from Russia is blocked by Ukraine. The PMR made a feeble cry to Moscow for help on Feb. 28, but stopped short of calling for it to intervene.

In fact, the gangsters of Transnistria are petrified and thus playing both ends against the middle: Russia and Moldova proper. All of the region’s trade now runs through Moldova proper—and most of that carries on to the EU through Romania. More Transnistrians than ever before work, study, and learn Romanian in Moldova proper, part of a deft strategy by Sandu to integrate Transnistria back into Moldova.

“Transnistria’s leaders are trying to be prudent—as they don’t have much of a choice,” Oazu Nantoi, a member of the Moldovan Parliament who belongs to Sandu’s party, told Foreign Policy.

And yet, the Transnistrian government, in league with the Gagauz and pro-Russian forces in Moldova proper, remains beholden to Moscow and gladly lends it a hand in chipping away at the Moldovan government’s sovereignty.

The fact is, said Alexei Tulbure, an ethnic Ukrainian and the director of the Moldovan Historical Institute, Moldova is an easy target. It remains a very weak state, he noted, and thus wide open to tampering. “We had hoped that the war would consolidate Moldova the way it did Ukraine’s population, bring us all onto the same page. But this didn’t happen,” he said. Polls show that about a quarter of the country is still pro-Russian.

Russia’s chief means to destabilize its targets are bought votes, propaganda, cyberwarfare, and political parties. There are a handful of Russia-friendly (some also Russian-financed) parties that toe Putin’s line to one degree or another. For most of Moldova’s recent history, a combination of these parties had held power. The propaganda is “very strong and very toxic, and it rings like it’s straight from Moscow,” said Mariana Aricova of the Institute of War and Peace Reporting office in Chisinau, whose job is to monitor and counter the Kremlin’s disinformation campaigns.

The Russian campaigns to topple the Sandu government have picked up pace as the Moldovan presidential election, scheduled to take place in autumn along with a referendum on EU membership, grows nearer. And the Sandu government has responded as if its life depends on it, even by banning one of the pro-Russian parties and shutting down six television channels for alleged misinformation.

But “it didn’t really change much because the banned party has regrouped under a new party, and the Russian message gets out through other channels, like the Internet,” Aricova said.

Above all, Moldovans fear being squashed in a power struggle in which they have no say. Many observers see a slow, gentle reintegration of Transnistria into a federally structured Moldova as a first step in the right direction—Sandu’s chosen path. The Sandu government is seizing the moment as a unique opportunity to reconnect with Transnistria—and from there, to bring the entire country, as one, into the EU. The carrots of cross-border employment prospects, full Schengen Area travel rights, European structural and investment funds, minority rights guarantees, and higher wages could be enticing to everyone—save, of course, Transnistria’s criminals.

In terms of a proven mentor, there’s none better than Romania, which has surged to become Eastern Europe’s second-largest economy after Poland. The question is whether Sandu can pull this off without shattering the fragile country in the process. But then, the war raging next door might just take care of that for her.

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buildarocketboys · 4 months

Text

My heart is on my sleeve, wear it like a bruise or black eye

Posted for the day 15 @febuwhump prompt, "Who did this to you?". Crossposted to AO3 here.

"Where the fuck is he?" Patrick said, kicking the bed frame. He grabbed his foot, cursing. That fucking hurt.

"Chill out, Patrick! He'll be here, OK?" Joe was getting pissed at him now. Which was totally unfair. Pete should be the one he was getting pissed at.

Pete had disappeared immediately after the show and he hadn't seen fit to show his face yet. They were supposed to leave an hour ago, heading south for their next show.

He wasn't worried about Pete. He'd wasted too much energy being concerned when Pete clearly didn't give a shit. Plus, at least one security guy trailed Pete everywhere he went at all times now. Mr Bigshot. Mr Tabloid Headline. And he still acted like this. Patrick was sick of it.

"Come on," said Andy. "I need to get some air."

"What, and make us even later?" Patrick knew he was acting like a jerk, and his other bandmates didn't deserve it. Unfortunately, the bandmate who did deserve to take his ire wasn't fucking here.

Joe rolled his eyes. "We won't go far. There's a corner store down the road. Let's get some snacks for the journey, at least. I'm starving."

"You have the munchies." Patrick said disapprovingly, aware that he was sounding more and more like his mom by the word. "From smoking weed."

"Whatever, Patrick, you stay here if you want," said Andy, clearly tired of his shit. Patrick felt a little chastened; Andy didn't deserve this.

"Yeah, we all know it's just the you and Pete show anyway," Joe threw over his shoulder as the two of them left the bus. "Leave without us if you want. I'm sure nobody in Indiana or wherever will notice if you replace us with two session musicians."

"Joe, that's not what I-" Patrick started to say, but Joe had already slammed the door in his face. Patrick huffed a sigh and sat on the bed to wait.

Pete probably wouldn't even bother showing his face here. He had his own bus nowadays, Mr Big and Important, too big and important to actually talk to Patrick. Not that that stopped Pete being all over him on stage every night. Pete'd probably tell the security guy, or the bus driver, and they'd pass it down the line and Patrick would only find out when they were already on the move.

Patrick growled low in the back of his throat and then punched himself, hard, in the thigh. Then he threw himself onto the bed, burying his head in the pillow, resigned to waiting. He tried to pretend that none of this was happening, that this wasn't his life now, that he and Pete were back in Chicago just having fun and playing music.

It worked for a bit. Then someone pounded at the bus door and Patrick was rudely pulled from his fantasy.

Probably Joe had forgotten his wallet or something. He yanked open the door-

-and Pete practically fell into his arms.

Patrick's first reaction was relief. His second was anger.

"Pete, what the-" and then he drew back enough to see that Pete was bleeding from the nose, another cut oozing on his lip. And there was bruising round both of his eyes "-hell?"

He helped Pete awkwardly up the bus steps, incredibly aware of every point where they were touching. He hadn't been this close to Pete offstage in- weeks? Months? He tried not to think about it.

Eventually, they make it to the bed, Pete landing heavily and pulling Patrick down with him.

"Pete," Patrick said, dropping to his knees in front of him so he could examine the damage properly. "What happened to you?"

Pete's lips quirked up in what was probably supposed to be a grin, but his face immediately collapsed again as he grimaced against the pain. "Me? You should see the other guy."

Patrick knew this was false bravado and he did not have time for it, not now. Whoever had done this to Pete...

"Who did this to you? Because I'm going to kill them." He would, too. In fact, he was about to head back out, find whoever had done this to Pete and rip their heads from their bodies- never mind that he was five foot four and in far worse physical shape than Pete-when Pete spoke.

"Patrick, stop."

He did. Even though it pained him. He wanted so badly to make these people pay. Not to mention, these days, whenever Pete wanted him to do something, he usually did the opposite. To spite him.

"Where're Andy and Joe?" Pete mumbled through his split lip.

"They went to the store- that doesn't matter!" Patrick said, shaking his head. He turned back to Pete. "What the hell happened, dude?" As if the epithet could hide the strain in his voice, or the fact that he still fucking cared so much, even now, even after all Pete had put him through. Even though he'd have beaten Pete up himself if he'd thought that'd do him any good.

But he had learned long ago that fighting Pete was the same as letting him win.

"Got beat up," Pete said, like that wasn't obvious.

"But how? By who? You disappeared off after our set and you come back like this?" Patrick could feel himself getting angry again. He tried to push it down - whatever else Pete was to blame for, it wasn't his fault that he'd gotten beaten up. "Wasn't there a security guy with you?"

Pete grinned. His eyes were a little unfocused. "Gave him the slip. Fat lot of good that did me." Pete frowned down at his lap and then, without warning, great, shuddering sobs started wracking his body, each one followed by a sharp hiss of pain as Pete clutched at his ribs.

Patrick rushed to his side, perching on the bed next to him, wrapping his arm around him. "What is it? Did they crack your ribs? Do we need to go to the hospital?"

Pete shook his head. "No, I'm f-f-fine," he managed through the sobs. Patrick looked at him dubiously; he was obviously not fine.

"Come on, Pete, I really think I should call an ambulance, they messed you up pretty bad-"

"NO." Pete's voice was loud and deep and so not like him that Patrick shut up immediately. Pete winced, the effort obviously too much for him. "No ambulance," he continued, his voice strained. "If I go to hospital, people will find out, and there'll be journalists there, and it'll be a whole thing, and everyone on the internet will make fun of me and say they're glad someone finally beat me up, and-"

"OK, OK," Patrick said, because Pete was starting to hyperventilate. "No ambulance." He stroked Pete's back, big, soothing circles, like his mom used to do when Patrick was sick. "None of that would happen, though, by the way. I wouldn't let it. I wouldn't let them get in."

Pete shook his head, but his breath was calmer as he leaned into Patrick's touch.

"I'll go get the first aid kit, OK?" Patrick said. Pete leaned into him harder for a second and Patrick forgot how to breathe. Then Pete nodded.

Patrick found the first aid kit in the back lounge and got back in record time. He opened it up, looking uncomprehendingly at bandaids and bandages.

Pete wasn't looking at him. "I fucked up," Pete said, his voice full of snot and phlegm and tears. "I fucked this whole thing up, didn't I, Patrick?"

Patrick knew he wasn't just talking about tonight. He breathed deeply for a second, in and out, before grabbing an antiseptic wipe.

"No," he said, making his voice as gentle as possible, like Pete was an animal he didn't want to spook. "You didn't fuck it all up."

Pete snorted. "Yeah, I did. You're just saying that 'cause you think you have to be nice to me, because I got beat up. But they're right, those people on the Internet." He furrowed his brow and spit out the words with undisguised self-loathing, "I deserved it."

Patrick's hand tightened on the wipe, and he had to take a second to calm himself and loosen his grip before he started to clean Pete's cuts. He focused on his motions for several long, quiet moments, just breathing in and out and cleaning Pete's cuts as gently as he could, although Pete still flinched every time.

"No, you didn't," he said after a while, cold, clear fury running through him, no longer directed at Pete but at everyone who'd made him feel like this, feel like dirt. "Like, yeah, maybe you fucked up a few times. Big deal. I've fucked up just as much." He took a deep breath, looking Pete in the eyes, brown meeting blue, so Patrick could make sure Pete knew that he meant it. "Doesn't mean you deserve this. Or any of the shit that gets thrown at you."

He threw the wipe down in frustration. "Fuck, I'm terrible at this. Can I at least go get one of our actual first aiders?"

Pete looked at him properly then for the first time that night. He was sad, and broken, and Patrick was pretty sure he was high, but even so, there was a twinkle in his eyes. "Thanks, Patrick," he said, voice hoarse.

A ghost of a smile twitched on Patrick's lips and he leaned his head against Pete's. Then the door rattled open behind them and they jumped apart.

"Have we got some great snacks for you-" Joe was saying. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Pete. "Man, what happened?"

"I'll get the medic," Andy said.

The rest of the night was kind of a blur for Patrick. Most of it was spent watching Pete argue with their first aider about going to the emergency room.

The man was biting his lip. Patrick felt sorry for him - the most he usually had to deal with was hangovers and the odd crew injury from moving equipment. "I really think you should go to ER, Pete," he was saying for the umpteenth time that evening.

Pete didn't even answer. So Patrick answered for him.

"Does he need to go to the ER? Medically speaking? Or will he be OK if we patch him up and give him painkillers?"

"He really should-"

Patrick raised his eyebrow and the man shut his mouth.

"But he doesn't need to, I suppose. Someone will need to stay up with him though, make sure he doesn't have a concussion."

Patrick nodded. "Good. I'll do that." He tried to put on a friendlier face, although he wasn't sure it worked. "Go get some rest once you've fixed him up, it's been a long night."

The medic nodded and finished patching Pete up before leaving.

Pete smiled at him. "You're gonna be my nurse, then, Pattycakes? You know, I've got some great fantasies involving nurses..."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Glad you're feeling better." His eyes found Joe and Andy in the room. "You guys should take Pete's bus," he said. "Get some sleep."

"No way, dude. We're staying with you."

"Yeah," Andy said. "Pete's ours.” He gripped Pete’s shoulder. “We're in this together."

Pete looked genuinely touched. "You guys..." he said.

If only I’d known you getting beat up would be the thing to bring us together, I’d have let someone do it to you years ago, Patrick thought meanly. He knew he should be glad of Andy and Joe's friendship, but he'd been hoping to get some more time alone with Pete. It had felt like they were close to something, that if they could only keep talking they'd finally be able to get out of this place they'd been trapped in.

But never mind. A night shooting the shit with the band it was. Patrick genuinely liked Andy and Joe, which was why he was mad at himself for resenting their presence so much.

But he was the one whose hand Pete was squeezing. So.

Things went back to normal the next day, pretty much. The medic declared that Pete did not have a concussion, although he should take it easy. So obviously, he'd insisted on playing tonight.

Patrick couldn't find it in himself to act disapproving. He was too thankful to have Pete there, even if he was more subdued, less talkative than usual.

Patrick didn't usually talk at gigs at all. He hated it, hated the idea of all those people looking at him and listening to the stupid shit that was bound to come out of his mouth. That was why he let Pete do the talking for him.

He realized that he'd let Pete do the talking way too much. Which explained why Pete looked over at him confused when Patrick cleared his throat into the mic before they played Saturday.

"You might have noticed," he said, not used to the way his speaking voice boomed out of the speakers, "that Pete looks a bit worse for wear today."

Scattered, nervous laughter, rumbling in the crowd. Patrick swallowed and continued.

"Some fucking assholes beat him up. They beat up my best friend-" Patrick hadn’t expected to get choked up, but he was- "and he still came out and played for you all tonight."

People cheered and clapped. There were a few whoops in the crowd.

"If I ever find out who did that to him - well, let's just say, they're gonna be hurting in the morning. That's if they wake up at all." Patrick probably shouldn't be threatening to kill people live on stage, but fuck it. He wanted people to know that he meant it. He wanted Pete to know that he meant it. He wasn't gonna stand by and let Pete take shit anymore.

The audience was hushed now, almost silent. Patrick cleared his throat and said one more thing.

"And if any of you, or your friends, or your friends' friends, think this is funny, if you go online and make jokes about Pete Wentz getting beat up, if you laugh with your friends about it - just know that I hate you. Fall Out Boy hates you, and you're not welcome at any of our shows in the future." He cleared his throat. "That's all."

The crowd was anything but quiet now, a cacophony of whispered conversations turning the stadium into an echo chamber.

Pete laughed into the mic, breaking the tension. "Well, uh, thanks for that, Patrick."

"I meant it," he said. He knew he was pushing it, ruining the vibe, but he didn't care.

Pete just shook his head at him. Patrick had expected him to look grateful, or at least fond, but he just looked dead behind the eyes again. Patrick felt tears prick at his own. "Let's just play the song, shall we?" said Pete.

Cheers from the crowd. Patrick nodded and they started playing Saturday, like they had hundreds of times before.

Patrick could feel the tension in the room, from the audience, from Pete, from his bandmates. That definitely hadn't been the smartest thing he'd ever done.

But right now, he played the song he'd written, the one he'd played hundreds of times before with his best friend in the world. And when he looked into Pete's eyes and sang, "More than an hour," it felt more like a vow than ever.

There'd be consequences later, but right now, this was all that mattered.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday15 #febuwhump2024 #peterick #fob #my writing

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batmansymbol · 4 months

Note

I hope this isn't a weird or too random question (and if it is, feel free to ignore ofc!) but I was wondering if you had any advice for someone thinking of writing full-time? The obvious question is, of course, can one make a living from it even if they're not like Stephen King or GRR Martin or something? Do you have any tips from your experience that you would have found helpful when first starting out? <3

Hi, sweet anon! Not weird at all. I'm happy to chime in with some (long) thoughts.

Firstly, yes! Authors can make a full-time living from writing even if they're not GRRM &c. I know a number of full-timers, and some of them aren't even NYT bestsellers.

As a caveat, I know very little about the indie/self-publishing space, so the following is based on my experience in traditional publishing.

I spent around 2-3 years writing books full-time. I no longer do that, and don't plan to return to it unless I have a big commercial breakout. It was just a never-ending parade of financial stress. It's hard even to give "tips" because so much is out of your control -- but if you're considering trying to write full time, you should definitely know what you're signing up for.

Here's an average situation for a non-bestseller trying to full-time it:

Let's say you've published two books, and your third is on the way (awesome!). For your first two novels, you got advances of $40,000, but maybe they've only sold 15k copies apiece -- not enough to "earn out" your advance and start making new money. So, you're not making a cent off your older books. Probably won't for years.

Let's say your book 3 is supposed to publish in June 2025, and it sold for more than your last books: $75,000. Pretty good! Advances are usually divided into thirds these days: 1/3 on contract signing, 1/3 on delivery of the fully edited manuscript (D&A), and 1/3 on publication. So that makes a $50,000 salary this year, yes?

Kind of. Right off the bat, your agent gets 15%, so that would make a $42,500 salary. A little tighter, but still seems doable. Also, you need to make estimated tax payments to the IRS. So, let's ballpark your taxes at $7,000, state and federal, which you'll pay in installments throughout the year.

Contract negotiations take a few months as usual, and let's say in April, you get the first payment: your first $21,250. Nice.

Unfortunately, your editor's swamped, and 2 months go by before they send you edits. When you get the letter in June, you're like -- shit, this is a more extensive revision than I thought. You start rehauling the novel, but after your month-long deadline passes, it's still not right. You take another six weeks before you're happy. It's now September.

Suddenly money is very tight. You got $21,250 in April, but since then you've paid $5,250 in estimated taxes, and every month you pay $2,250 in rent, health insurance, and food. You were supposed to have your second payment already, because the contract's estimated D&A date said September. But you still need to do line edits. You now have $2,500 in the bank. You are very aware that this will last a little over a month.

Your editor gets back after a few weeks, having loved your revision, and has sent you line edits. Thank God she didn't want a second round of bigger edits. But it's now October. You rush through the line edits, turn them in after a single jam-packed week. You have $250 in the bank. Your D&A payment is now due.

A week goes by. Where is the payment? You email your agent. She badgers the publisher. They say the payment will be sent through in a pay run next week, so after agency processing, it'll be with you in early November.

You have $75 in the bank. You start putting everything on your credit cards. Then your utility company makes a direct withdrawal from your checking account. You wake up to an overdraft notice and zero dollars in your account. Holy shit, you think, why did I choose this career. November hits. You are late on rent. Maybe you should start drawing from your retirement account, which you put $5,000 into, one time, three years ago?

When your payment arrives, you're not happy so much as ready to cry with relief. You start paying off your cards and sending late, embarrassed Venmos to your friends. You can finally stop declining invites to hang out because you have no money.

And by then it's November, and you're realizing that you really need to be thinking about your next book. If you were working smart, you got a jump on it earlier in the year, when your editor was late with your edit letter. Let's say you wrote an entire first draft back then, between January and June. (Which, to be clear, IS fast for a novel, do not believe the ridiculous standards of writing speed you see online.) If you now take six months to mold that first draft into actual art, then send it to your agent next May, and she wants changes, and you submit in July, and it sells after an average couple months on submission, you won't get your next contract payment until January, 2026.

ARE YOU ANXIOUS YET?

The above scenario is ordinary. An editor having a delay on an edit letter for a month or two, or an author getting stuck and running over deadline for a month -- that stuff is barely worth commenting on.

And there are all sorts of other bumps in the road. Let's say the publisher has turnover in the contracts department. Immediately, that'll be a delay on your signing payment. I've waited 6 months for a contract payment before. I've waited months for a simple email reply from an editor because the company was going through layoffs.

Add more people into the process, and it gets slower. Are you working on IP, let's say a novelization of a TV property? That team might take months to get back to you even on your proposed outline. Working with a freelancer or cowriter? Add weeks or months to every step. In publishing, you spend half your life waiting. You know what doesn't wait? Rent, taxes, and health insurance.

Anon, this is the shoestring, desperate kind of full-time author existence. If you're doing a little better -- still midlist, but better -- you might have earned out one or more of your backlist titles. That means you'll get additional royalties twice a year, usually April and October. That will help.

Or maybe you're a super-fast writer who's always, always juggling multiple contracts and shooting drafts in and out of your door. That's a decent way to make a healthy living as a full-time author, but you'll need to complete multiple books a year, for sure.

This is why I have a survival job half the week that pays my rent. The stress is still there, but it's less frequent and less intense. Honestly, given my sales figures, which are (checks notes) bad, I'm lucky to get to keep doing this after five novels. Because the biggest looming threat is that if you don't break out, editors will start shutting the door immediately because of your lack of established audience.

The only really reliable way to pay your bills is to break out. Then if your editor leaves your publishing house, and you get reassigned, and that pads 3 months onto the editing process, or whatever, it doesn't matter. You'll have actual, substantial royalty payments twice a year. Your advances will always be over six figures. You can live a normal life where you're not staring into the murky distance, wondering when some payment is going to soar out of the night and into your terrible bank account.

Or ... you can just get a day job. And you will get paid biweekly, reliably, on SPECIFIC DATES!!!, forever. When I tell you this shit was life-changing for me. Good God.

Obviously the biggest problem in this whole post is the bit where I wrote "every month you pay $2,250 in rent, insurance, and food," and worried if I was, in fact, lowballing that amount. What a broken world!

Anyway. Best of luck with the writing, anon -- no matter what your experiences in or around the industry, I hope the work itself continues to feed your soul.

#reply #publishing #advice

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athenswrites · 8 months

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15 Questions

@void-botanist had an open tag for this one and I wanted to play! I'm tagging @the-down-upside-finch @worldsfromhoney @from-the-depths-into-your-soul @aquadestinyswriting and whoever else wants to play! (Tagging @thetruearchmagos to see this and play if he wants)

I'm answering these as Piers Hall and Grady Yensey, from the start of Knight of Dawn!

Are you named after anyone?

Piers: As far as I know? No one. I don't even know who named me. I came to Adele as "Jillian Piers". Grady: Actually yes, Grady was my grandmother's name. She died of IR about two years before I was born.

When was the last time you cried?

Piers: It's been at least three months Grady: Liar, you cried the night before your coronation. Piers: Did not! Grady: Did too! Piers: [huffs] Grady: The last time I cried was *also* before Piers coronation but it was stress more than anything.

Do you have kids?

Piers: No, but I would like kids one day. Grady: No.

Do you use sarcasm?

Piers: Obviously not Grady: They use it just a little too often. I don't typically use sarcasm though.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Piers: Probably the giant scar on the side of my face. It looks like a weird acid burn scar, but not quite. It's from when- Grady: What you notice about others, Piers. Piers: Oh....you asked the first thing I notice about other people...probably if they ALSO have scarring from IR. Survivors are rare. Secondly, whatever they're wearing. It's the active choice they make about their appearance and tells me a lot about them as a person. Grady: For me, it's how they introduce themself, and the titles they use. Piers and I both work with a LOT of different people from varying backgrounds and statuses so it's important to know how they want to be addressed without making it awkward.

What’s your eye color?

Piers: Green-hazel. They've faded a little as I've gotten older. Grady: Brown now, but apparently I was born with bright blue eyes.

Scary stories or happy endings?

Piers: Scary stories! Grady: Happy endings, all the way. I am an avid reader of cheesy, trashy, lesbian romance novels. I'm currently in the middle of one that's set in the wild west.

Any special talents?

Piers: I can bend my back far enough back to stick my head through my own legs. I also can fall asleep after drinking four cups of coffee. Grady: I used to be able to play piano when I was younger. Now, I consider my special talent to be able to dead sprint in high heels. Chasing down people in the Palace teaches you a lot.

Where were you born?

Piers: Honestly, beats me. Officially, I was born in the Palace. Grady: I was born in one of the hospitals in downtown ATLZoS. I don't remember which.

What are your hobbies?

Piers: I like playing chess, going on research deep dives, and watching conspiracy theory videos. Grady: I consider reading my main hobby, but I spend a fair amount of time baking and playing military sim games.

Do you have any pets?

Piers: I've never had a pet. Adele was allergic to most furry creatures and Marcie hated snakes and lizards. Grady, didn't you- Grady: [Swatting Piers] -I used to have a fish but it died because I accidentally forgot to feed it.

What sports do you play/have played?

Piers: I mean, I don't really do formal sports but I do some mixed martial arts and weightlifting. Grady: Same as Piers, but I also played tennis for a little while.

How tall are you?

Piers: Six foot, one inch! Grady: Piers is about five-eleven and I'm about five-six. Piers: Boooo let me have my fun. Grady: You're still growing which shouldn't be happening, but it is. I'm sure you'll at least hit six foot soon.

Favorite subject in school?

Piers: I loved geo-politics and history! Literature is a close one too. Grady: During my Academy time, I really enjoyed mixed martial arts classes and naval strategy. To this day, I somewhat regret not choosing RG Navy. I had high enough scores. Piers: [giving puppy dog eyes] But then you would have left me.

Dream job?

Piers: If I wasn't Monarch, I'd probably still pursue a career in politics. It's so much fun and I wouldn't trade it for the world. Grady: I do want to be Captain of the Royal Guard one day, which should happen when Gavin retires in ten years or so.

#tag game #writeblr #character #character questions #writing #nytf #athens answers #athenswrites #writeblr ask game #wip #character development #character writing

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art-of-manliness · 3 months

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Odds & Ends: March 22, 2024

Thymes Frasier Fir Reed Diffuser. Our family took a spring break trip this week, and the lodge we stayed at had this amazing, manly smell — a mixture of fir, cedar, and sandalwood. I loved it and wanted my house to smell like that, too. I asked a clerk at the hotel what the smell was, and she told me it was from a Thymes Frasier Fir Reed Diffuser. You fill a reed diffuser (a jar, essentially) with fragranced oil and then put the reeds in the diffuser, and the sticks absorb the oil and waft its scent into the air. When I got home, I immediately bought a bundle for our den. Can’t wait for our house to smell awesome. Books Are Cheap. Upcoming AoM podcast guest Jake Knapp makes the case that books are a bargain. They’re usually $15 to $25 each. And think about all the value you get for that money: Books synthesize months and often years of research and thinking into an accessible package. If it’s a non-fiction book, you’re likely to get one or two good ideas that can improve your life. If it’s a fiction book, it can provide hours of entertainment and might help you see the world in a different way. You can get books for free at the library, of course. But when I see a book that interests me, I don’t hesitate to buy it. It’s a great return on investment. The Chief: The Life of William Randolph Hearst by David Nasaw. William Randolph Hearst created a publishing empire that spanned the country in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. He pioneered yellow journalism and was a lightning rod figure who attracted the ire of business leaders and Theodore Roosevelt. I didn’t know much about the guy, so I picked up this tome of a biography about him by David Nasaw. I couldn’t put it down. I learned that Hearst came from money (his dad was a 49er who struck gold), a mama’s boy (he depended on his mother financially all through his life), and ran for the US House of Representatives, mayor of New York City, governor of NY, and even president of the United States (he lost all of those elections except the first, but played a huge role in transforming the Democratic Party). There Will Be Blood. There Will Be Blood is a character study in what happens to a man who becomes ruthlessly consumed with besting his fellow man — with winning at all costs. Daniel Day-Lewis, in what may be his finest performance (though his turn in Gangs of New York comes close), at first garners the audience’s sympathy and admiration, only to invite their repugnance as he loses his humanity in the pursuit of ambition. This hauntingly-produced movie leaves a lasting impression, and it’s just as good on subsequent watchings as it is on the first. One of my all-time favorite flicks. Quote of the Week Measure your health by your sympathy with morning and spring. If there is no response in you to the awakening of nature, if the prospect of an early morning walk does not banish sleep, if the warble of the first bluebird does not thrill you, know that the morning and spring of your life are past. Thus may you feel your pulse. —Henry David Thoreau Help support independent publishing. Make a donation to The Art of Manliness! Thanks for the support! http://dlvr.it/T4Tf2J

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cleverwordsandotherstuffilike · 11 months

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1. There are 300,000 items in the average American home (LA Times).

2. The average size of the American home has nearly tripled in size over the past 50 years (NPR).l

3. And still, 1 out of every 10 Americans rent offsite storage—the fastest growing segment of the commercial real estate industry over the past four decades. (New York Times Magazine).

4. While 25% of people with two-car garages don’t have room to park cars inside them and 32% only have room for one vehicle. (U.S. Department of Energy).

5. The United States has upward of 50,000 storage facilities, more than five times the number of Starbucks. Currently, there is 7.3 square feet of self storage space for every man, woman and child in the nation. Thus, it is physically possible that every American could stand—all at the same time—under the total canopy of self storage roofing (SSA).

6. British research found that the average 10-year-old owns 238 toys but plays with just 12 daily (The Telegraph).

7. 3.1% of the world’s children live in America, but they own 40% of the toys consumed globally (UCLA).

8. The average American woman owns 30 outfits—one for every day of the month. In 1930, that figure was nine (Forbes).

9. The average American family spends $1,700 on clothes annually (Forbes).

10. While the average American throws away 65 pounds of clothing per year (Huffington Post).

11. Nearly half of American households don’t save any money (Business Insider).

12. But our homes have more television sets than people. And those television sets are turned on for more than a third of the day—eight hours, 14 minutes (USA Today).

13. Some reports indicate we consume twice as many material goods today as we did 50 years ago (The Story of Stuff).

14. Currently, the 12 percent of the world’s population that lives in North America and Western Europe account for 60 percent of private consumption spending, while the one-third living in South Asia and sub-Saharan Africa accounts for only 3.2 percent (Worldwatch Institute).

15. Americans donate 1.9% of their income to charitable causes (NCCS/IRS). While 6 billion people worldwide live on less than $13,000/year (National Geographic).

16. Americans spend more on shoes, jewelry, and watches ($100 billion) than on higher education (Psychology Today).

17. Shopping malls outnumber high schools. And 93% of teenage girls rank shopping as their favorite pastime (Affluenza).

18. Women will spend more than eight years of their lives shopping (The Daily Mail).

19. Over the course of our lifetime, we will spend a total of 3,680 hours or 153 days searching for misplaced items. The research found we lose up to nine items every day—or 198,743 in a lifetime. Phones, keys, sunglasses, and paperwork top the list (The Daily Mail).

20. Americans spend $1.2 trillion annually on nonessential goods—in other words, items they do not need (The Wall Street Journal).

21. The $8 billion home organization industry has more than doubled in size since the early 2000’s—growing at a staggering rate of 10% each year.

becomingminimalist.com

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bigbadripley · 1 year

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Chapter 16 - fue mejor

Marc Spector/Steven Grant(Jake Lockley?) x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn’t help but notice how familiar he was.

Warnings: Heavy language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma, prison/kidnapping/murder mention, heavy Jake flirtation, alcohol, smoking, **I won’t be exhaustive with the smut warnings. All you need to know is Steven gets laid, unprotected p in v, jealous!Marc** mention of previous sexual encounter (hate!sex, respectfully) Safe travels!***

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list

"Desde la primera vez que me probaste Duro dejarte ir cuando lo haces así Te hace sentir bueno cuando me Tratas tan mal, tú Me diste más de lo que te pedí Told you "I'm ready," so why won't you let me?" -"fue mejor" by Kali Uchis

The circle made with red marker on the calendar magnetized to the fridge beamed in Simone's eyes as she sipped her coffee. Every tool used to track days were marked the same, so she would remember as if one wasn't enough.

The day had come much faster than she anticipated, and she was anxious as hell about it. Red circles on calendars signified important dates for Simone, and this was a date she had been dreading for the last three months.

It was time for her quarterly visit to inmate JW-0290, John Walton.

She only took Walton as her patient three years ago, once the psych who worked there realized the inmate needed one-on-one visits. That was when his lawyer called Simone, and she took the job, thinking a visit every three months wouldn't be so bad.

Every time she saw Walton, she left with a feeling of unease. The man gave her the jeebies, and she soon realized that though he had committed a horrible crime, he didn't need to be in prison.

He needed to be evaluated by a team of doctors in a mental facility with around-the-clock treatment. Not just her on a quarterly visit.

Simone took the final sip of coffee from her floral mug and sat it in the sink, heading out for the day. On red circle days, she never deviated from her routine, keeping everything in order from when she woke up to when she left the prison like it was the Ides of March.

This included taking a cab to her destination instead of her car in case she needed a drink to calm her nerves afterward. There was never a time when she didn't need something stiff after meeting with Walton, so this also became part of the routine.

She lit a cigarette the moment she stepped out of the heavy metal doors of her stonewalled building, but the cab she called soon came into view. She felt ready to tackle this and unprepared all at once, running through everything in her head nervously.

Pen. Pad. Phone. Apartment key. Smokes. Wallet.

Everything she needed was on her person, so she was ready to head out. Upon opening the door to the cab, she slipped into the backseat and smoothed out her gray dress pants upon placing herself into the leather cushion.

Before Simone could speak, she looked up and saw a familiar face in a newsboy cap turn to greet her. The last time she saw the men who shared this face was during a moment of weakness a week before after receiving a come hither text and feeling a need for an orgasm that wasn't caused by her own hand. She had not seen or spoken to them before that, not since their fight, and hadn't seen or spoken to them since the random booty call.

She missed them but couldn't express it, even if it seemed immature and petty.

Seeing Jake was not on the agenda today, just like seeing Marc or Steven wasn't. It nearly spooked her out of the seat her amble ass sat in.

"Oh, what the hell." She said under her breath as soon as the face registered in her brain. A wide smile spread across the lower half of Jake's face, seeming genuinely happy to see her, having not seen her since the night they supposedly slept together. The night everything seemed to cave in around her.

"What's up, doll? Where ya headed?" He asked, seeming entirely unphased by her presence, unlike her. She provided the address, and the gears turned in Jake's brain as the location came to him. "The prison?" He ticked an eyebrow upward.

"Work," Simone answered shortly. She wanted to keep things as professional as possible and make as little conversation with Jake as possible for fear of saying too much. She already couldn't bare to see his hopelessly handsome face.

Jake nodded once and turned back around, putting the car in drive. "Ah, whatcha do?" He asked, peering at her from the rearview. He secretly hoped she hadn't told him before, and it slipped his mind.

"I'm a psychiatrist." She answered, staring down at her rosy red fingertips.

Ah, so she's a doctor. Jake thought before he took note of her unamused tone and inability to look at him. "Shit, did you tell me that already? I'm sorry." He apologized before she could give an answer to his question. She had to have told him that already, and that's why she wasn't too keen on looking at him. Simone expelled a nervous laugh,

"No, I haven't told you." She informed.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed them as Jake tried to put together why her usual energy was suddenly low like it was. It had to be because they fucked, right? "Don't have to be so awkward, Chi-town. We only woke up next to each other one time." He finally spoke up, trying to bring the mood up a little.

From the rearview mirror, Jake saw a hint of a grin in the corners of her mouth. He was chipping away at whatever was bugging her; he just had to keep at it. She exhaled sharply and snickered,

"It's not that. I'm just a little peeved that you know my name but keep calling me Chi-town." She said, finally bringing her eyes up to look at his in the mirror through her thick eyelashes.

There she is. Jake thought. He took a second to admire the look before responding. "Sorry, Simone. See? I remembered!"

"But you can't remember that beautiful night we shared?" Simone teased, followed by an eye-roll, genuinely amused by him.

So much for professionalism. She thought to herself.

Though it was clear she didn't remember either, Jake was surprised at her ability to crack a joke about the situation. It made him wonder what had her down in the dumps, to begin with. His mind wandered back to that night in the quiet, wishing he could conjure the memory and cursed himself for being unable to. What he could remember, however, was Simone calling him that name again, and a pinch of jealousy struck him.

That's right. Marc. The boyfriend.

"So, I'm guessin' I don't have to worry about that boyfriend of yours, eh?" He asked, wanting to confirm if he needed to quit while he was ahead to avoid any more complicated entanglements with a spoken-for woman. Exquisite or not, Jake had morals.

"Nope. Not with him anymore." Simone answered, crossing one clothed leg over the other and directing her gaze out the window. She wasn't lying but needed to remind herself who she was speaking to. Even if the voice and eyes weren't identical to Spector's, the man still walked around in his skinsuit and had ties to the Egyptian god that terrorized her once-best boys.

"Bad news bears for him, lucky me though. Maybe you could refresh my memory of that beautiful night we had." Jake said, tuning his voice to make the line seem like a joke, knowing good and well he would have no issue if the opportunity arose now that he knew she was single.

Simone could feel his eyes burning her from the mirror, prodding her to look at him. It was a good joke, a great one, even. It even garnered a laugh and a blush from her, which would have stopped his heart if he wasn't driving.

"Pick your battles, Bronx." She replied, turning his hometown into a nickname as he did to her, meeting him in the mirror again without a second thought. His eyes were quick to dart to hers and go from warm-natured to dark, serious, and nearly lustful as they locked on to herself and refused to let go.

"Sabes que mi nombre, muñeca." He growled, telling her: you know my name, doll and asserting that he caught her nickname. Jake wouldn't have minded if it wasn't for her affinity to call him everything but his actual name. He wanted to hear her say it, not Bronx, Marc, or anything else.

The way Jake looked at her and the tone of his voice made Simone quake internally, and her throat dried up, every bit of liquid in her body falling lower. She uncrossed her legs and pressed her knees together as close as possible. She wouldn't show weakness, not today.

"Sí, Jake." She said before snapping her eyes away from the mirror and back to the window. She gave him what he wanted without the expense of falling apart, and it was all she could spare today.

It was music to his ears, though.

The short ride that remained was silent and consisted of limited eye contact until they got to the guard gate of the prison." Welp, here we are." Jake announced, putting the car in park out of the way of entry so Simone could get checked in on foot. She felt her nerves return as she pulled money from her wallet and handed it shakily to him.

"Keep the change." She insisted, once again giving him way more than she owed. Jake held the money in his hand momentarily and turned halfway around in his seat,

"Can I get a kiss as a tip instead?" He asked, wagging his eyebrow to playfully entice her. She let out a similar snicker to before and shook her head,

"Not happening today."

It was the answer he expected, even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Regardless, he wanted to see her again.

"Alright, well, we gotta stop meetin' like this, Chi-town. Gimme your number."

Simone looked at the time on her phone and realized she needed to go, but figured she would entertain the man one last time. She pulled her notepad out of her bag with her pen, scribbled her personal number on the corner of a blank page, and tore the piece off, tucking it into his hand. "Gotta jet." She said quickly, opening the door to the cab.

Jake skimmed the phone number just as well as he did the money she paid him, marveling at how neat it looked. "Adiós, hermosa." He called out. He got one more good smile from her before she shut the door and took off toward the guard gate.

In the most ungentlemanly fashion, his eyes drifted straight to her shapely ass in the gray dress pants she wore. Professional, tasteful, sophisticated, but thick as oatmeal.

Hate to see her go, but I love to watch her walk away. Jake thought to himself before finally pulling away from the prison.

Simone went through all the usual steps when getting past prison security: identification, shoes off, bag in the box, metal detector, then clear to pass. As always, she was accompanied by officer Bradley through the prison as they trekked to the block they held Walton on. He had highly thick eyebrows that clashed with his shiny, bald head and had a large build, but his voice didn't match his hardened look at all.

"Your man's been in solitary. You caught him on a good day, luckily." The officer told her. She heard this nearly every time she came around, so she didn't know the difference between Walton's good days and bad. She supposed his bad days were what landed him in solitary. "I've got money bet he'll be back in there before the week's end."

"He's a sociopath, Bradley. He doesn't mind solitude, so it doesn't feel like punishment."

"Gotta follow protocol still, Doc. That's why you come around, though, I reckon. You'll get him out of our hair."

"My reports are only half the job. His attorney has to be the convincing one."

They came upon a large metal door to a room with thick glass windows lined with wire. Simone's patient was inside, cuffed, and sitting at a table bolted to the floor. "As always, give us a shout if you need anything, doc." Officer Bradley said as he opened the visiting area for her to enter.

Clutching her pad and bag close, she walked in with steady breathing and her chin up as if the inmate could smell fear. He always looked exactly the same: receding hairline with gray patches, a lazy eye, scrawny but tall, and the worst teeth she'd ever seen. Still, he greeted her politely.

"Morning, Doctor," Walton said with his heavily posh accent. Simone gave him a smile and good morning in return before placing her notepad in front of her and turning on the voice recorder app on her phone. She uncapped the plastic pen she kept specifically for these visits due to Walton being triggered by pen clicking, and thus began their session.

As if they had never left, Steven woke up in bed just mere hours after Jake drove Simone to the appointment. He scanned the room, stretched his limbs, then called out to Marc to see if he would answer.

He didn't. It had been the same since he came out the week before to bring in Simone, and though her meeting them was nice, it was laced with her true intentions the second she walked through the door: she wasn't ready to fix things. She didn't know if it could be fixed.

Simone slept with them, separately as always, but she and Marc exchanged words before he had her. Marc shut down again after that, thinking it would improve things, but it only caused him to miss her more.

Of course, Steven also missed her and tried to introduce the conversation after they made love, but she had nothing to say. Marc didn't take kindly to this, unsure why she wouldn't help them figure out how to make it work.

They tried on their own for two weeks and couldn't figure out anything to get a conversation going with Jake. He was completely closed off and unaware of them, just as they were of him. Everyone was in limbo, just like their relationship with Simone.

It was a pretty heated argument, the kind you only get when two people love each other but can't stand to be around one another due to some sort of quarrel or irreconcilable differences. Simone said Marc and Steven lied, but Marc disagreed even though Steven apologized. The disagreement quickly became a power struggle that became what would only be described as hatesex. They were frustrated and took it out intimately.

Then, Simone was gone again just as quickly as she came back. She was tired of fighting, and so was Marc, so he also left. This left Steven to try and figure things out on his own.

Marc was in shambles, just as he used to be when they fought as kids. Only during those times was everything temporary. They would give each other the silent treatment for a few days and then return to it like nothing happened. They're adults now, so now it seems permanent.

It felt like she was slipping through his fingers, and he thought she was in his grasp when he texted her, but he was wrong. Infatuation was a hateful thing, sometimes, and though he was happy to have her body, mind, soul, and everything in between under him that night, it felt dirty to let her leave after. Like they could do nothing but fight and use each other.

They refused to wash the sheets because they smelled like her still. Kept her toothbrush in the bathroom. Dreamt of her. Day dreamt of her. Fucked their own hand at the thought.

It did make them feel good that she stopped by, at least. She could get another conquest if she wanted. She still chose to come over. This meant there was a chance. Steven wasn't going to let that pass him by.

The decision to go to her apartment was his alone. Marc wanted to stay back, had it in his mind that she would come when she was ready, and feared bugging her would only further her disdain for him. He wanted Moni to miss him.

Last I checked, she was the one who left. Why are we even here? He thought as Steven knocked on the door. In a twist, they got Joyce, who looked like she had just arrived home.

"Oh, Simone's not here-" Joyce cut herself off, squinting and studying his face to find something that told her the name of the person she was speaking to.

"Steven. And I just wanted to see how she was doing." He told her, smiling nervously. Joyce snapped like she came to that conclusion herself,

"Yep, Steven, the gentle one." She said. Steven found it touching that she referred to him that way. Marc, on the other hand, wondered what he would be. "Simone's on her 'field trip' day." She added air quotes, "I'll let her know you came by, though."

After her session, Simone realized she was correct in getting a cab again: she needed a drink but decided to head home for it this time and shower. She pulled her phone out and called the company, then remembered the last couple of taxis she'd called.

"Can I request to not get Jake Lockley this time?" She asked the man on the other end. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the banter, but she wasn't sure if she had the willpower to hold herself back upon seeing his face again.

"Lucky for you, Lockley's off the clock right now. Why? Need to file a complaint?"

"Oh, no, just keep running into the guy. Wanted to see if that was something I could do. Send whoever."

They did send someone she'd never met or seen, which was refreshing. She enjoyed a decently quiet ride home, thinking of how the session went before her mind returned to the fact that Jake was off the clock.

Does that automatically mean Marc and Steven are on the clock, so to speak? Probably not. Jake doesn't just pop out to drive his taxi and leave when he's done. He's gotta be up to more than that.

When Simone got home, she dropped her bag and let out an audible sigh to mirror how she felt: exhausted.

"I take it, it went normal." She heard Joyce call out from the living room. Simone sauntered over to get her roommate in view,

"The man's not fit for a prison, but they won't listen to me. He has a laundry list of issues, but his clear-cut sociopathy should have been enough to send him to a facility instead of supermax. Maybe even The Raft... his lawyer failed him."

"Are you excusing his behavior?" Joyce asked, playing devil's advocate. Simone snickered, thinking that would be an impossible task. The man was dreadful.

"Absolutely not. It's not like Walton snapped one day and decided to kidnap those girls. He had it in him the whole time, but his brain needs to be looked at by a team, not just me. He has someone new on his prison hit list whenever I see him. Doesn't write it down. It's all memorized." She explained, sounding amazed. The man was polite, mild-mannered, and probably wouldn't draw much attention to himself in public on the outside.

"Are you on that list?" Joyce asked with a laugh. Simone spotted the bottle of tequila in the china cabinet on the far side of the room,

"You know I am. Every time I visit, he says I need to see him more." She shuddered, grabbing a crystal glass from the cupboard before walking to the cabinet. The thought crossed her mind as she realized she would have little time for her usual patients if she spent more time seeing the inmate. That would spell bad news. That would put more high-risks like Laura in jeopardy. "I need a drink."

She didn't like tequila much at room temperature, but she felt there wasn't any time to chill it. Joyce scooted to the edge of her chair and leaned forward, studying Simone as she poured the clear liquid into the glass. "You've been drinking a lot more lately. You alright?"

"I'm fine. Just keep thinking about a lot of things. Laura, mostly."

"Go see her."

"I can't. I can't shake the feeling her family doesn't want me there." She admitted, taking a good swig of the liquor and impressing Joyce by expertly keeping a straight face. There was a brief silence between them that was only interrupted by a sipping and gulping sound as Simone finished off the two fingers of alcohol before pouring another finger. Finally, Joyce spoke up,

"Steven came by after you."

Simone put the cap back on the bottle slowly after hearing this, realizing it was the answer to her question to herself from earlier.

"You sure it was Steven?" She asked.

"The English one." She confirmed. Simone nodded quietly and took her glass to the loveseat next to Joyce's chair. "It was awfully sweet, actually. He just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Yeah." Simone sat, placing the glass against her temple and silently staring into space.

What a fuckin' sweetheart.

"You've got that look again. The 'I should call him' look." Joyce called her out. Simone removed the glass from her head, wishing the liquid was cold again so it would actually feel good on her face.

"Shit, look who's playing psych now?" She said with a laugh. "What a fuckin' nightmare."

As for the man himself, Steven sat in his flat, cross-legged on the floor, with a handheld mirror propped in front of him by a bunch of books he'd already read. He stared into it with intention, trying to summon this Jake fellow like he was Bloody Mary.

Marc was the only one around, and he knew it. There would be no luck this time, not without Moni. He felt it in his bones.

"He's not gonna come out. We've tried this." Marc said, speaking to Steven through his reflection. Steven's neck went lax, and his head fell forward with a groan,

"Don't be a pessimist. It worked for us!"

"Because you started digging, I could snake my way into your consciousness. We can't do that with Jake if he believes he's the only one and isn't trying to fight for the body."

"So we would need Simone."

"Exactly."

They sat quietly for a moment before there was a slight knocking at the door. It was nearly too gentle for them to hear, and if they were still talking, they probably wouldn't have.

Steven stood up and walked to the door, thinking having a visitor at this time of day was strange. He opened the door and, like he summoned her instead of Jake or Bloody Mary, Simone stood waiting. His heart nearly leaped from his chest.

"Hey, Stevie." She greeted him with a nervous grin. She was twiddling her thumbs, clearly regretting coming by now that she was actually here. Regardless, she was happy to see him, and the feeling was mutual. He stepped aside to let her come in, and she proceeded, looking around aimlessly at the clutter, trying to find something to focus on. "Joyce said you came by..." She started but trailed off when she turned to face him.

Steven perked up, thinking his efforts wouldn't amount to her coming over.

Maybe change is in the air. He thought to himself.

Marc, on the other hand, remained unconvinced. After their last interaction, he doubted they would reconcile so soon, though he wished they would.

"I just wanted to check on you. A lot's been happening, and I'll do my best to help." Steven responded. Simone found him sweet, and Marc found him to be a suckup.

She wasn't drunk, out of her mind, or anything that would impair her judgment. She just needed to feel his lips after the day she had. After all, he said he would do his best to help. She approached him steadily, not rushing or in desperation, but she got to him and interlocked her hands over his neck as she gently brought her lips to his.

Simone's mind raced, still enjoying kissing and being around him, remembering why she refused to go to anyone else no matter how mad she was, regardless of whether she didn't plan on getting back on track with their relationship. They were adults, and her intentions, though devious, were clear.

"Delightful. Undress and get on the bed, sweetheart." She said with a tender voice as she pulled from the kiss. Steven does precisely what he's told to do. First, the shirt, pants, and boxers, and then on the bed. He was sitting up with his legs straight out in front of him, waiting as she removed her own clothes. He watched, interested in her every move until he started to stroke himself.

"Don't touch, Stevie." She demanded. Steven quickly moved his hand back to his side, realizing the error.

"Sorry." He said with a slight blush. She placed her hand on his chest and guided him to lie back.

"Just don't let it happen again, or I'll have to tie you up. Understood?" She told him, still holding her tender tone. Steven nodded,

"Yes, darling." He answered attentively. Simone found that Steven responds best to gentle authority. She takes extra care to do everything she does and says as delicately as possible to match his soft nature.

As she watched his kind eyes, her clit ached like it was being teased, and yet she hadn't been touched yet. It was no wonder she took to the handsome man what felt like forever ago, just as well as he took to her.

She straddled overtop of his painfully hard cock, allowing him only to feel the wetness between her folds as they blanketed him. This part always drove him nuts, her taking her time, but he knew he needed to resist her teasing.

Simone began slowly grinding against him, only moving slightly, but the friction, paired with how soaked she was, did enough for her. Steven, though enjoying himself, couldn't help but want to pick up the pace. He was impatient, needy even. He wanted to be inside her but knew that Simone would give him what he wanted when she was ready and if he was good.

Steven knew how to be good for her, yet his impatience got the best of him, and he gripped her hips and began pressing his pelvis into her harder, trying to get more of her to wrap around him.

For Simone, though this felt fantastic, it simply wouldn't do. "Tsk, tsk, Stevie baby. You know better." She said, still gentle with her tone but harshly pushing on his chest to keep him steady. Steven immediately felt guilty for getting greedy and knew what came next. He lost his self-control, and he had to be restrained.

She delicately took his wrists and lifted them above his head. She wasn't using force, but he knew he needed to be punished, so he allowed it to happen. She found the leather binds they kept attached to the headboard and put them around his wrists, making it nearly impossible for him to touch her now.

"I guess I deserve this, yeah?" He asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear her talk to him more. He loved her voice. Simone smiled down at him, making his heart flutter with her beauty.

"Yes, you do. I was going to let your slip up before slide so you could touch me, too. I guess not now, hmm?" She said, finishing the sentence with a hum of pleasure as she continued rolling her hips. "I was going to let you put your hands all over me. You would have gotten to feel my tits," She continued, speaking more breathy now. Steven's eyes drifted closed, imagining it as she told and massaged her clit against him. "I would have let you hold my thighs, run your hands over my ass..." She trailed off as she watched him lose focus under her.

Simone's wetness coated the underside of his cock, and the feelings and thoughts running through his head put him a few steps ahead of her. She knew he was having difficulty holding back even though he was trying his best to be her object of pleasure. She tested him a bit more.

"You like it when I rub my pussy on you like this?" She asked him. Steven groaned at her words, thinking about how pretty she made those dirty words sound.

"Yes, love." He answered, gritting his teeth. Simone picked up the pace a bit as she felt the fire build inside her, inching closer to orgasm as she watched Steven's face. He was apparently hanging on by a thread from the twitching of his thighs under her. He was ready to cum, and that simply wouldn't do.

Simone lifted herself off him and sat at his side, examining the dribbles of precum leaking onto his belly. "You're too close, sweetheart. We can't have that."

"I'm sorry, I can't help it." He apologized, subconsciously pulling at the restraints, aching to have something on him again. She loved when he got like this.

"It's okay. I know you can't. We'll just have to work on that, won't we?" She asked, implying what her next event was. Steven hated edging, but he hated coming too soon even more. He wanted Simone to use him as long as she needed to. Typically, when he can last until she comes one time, he gets rewarded with his own.

Simone walked on her knees to the top of his body, gingerly running her fingers through his tousled hair. Steven stared lovingly at her, wishing he had her to do this all the time, hoping she would come home. To be closer to her again was something Steven pined for. He knew Marc also did, but god damn, was that man dead-set on making sure she crawled back first.

"Ready?" She whispered politely. Steven nodded frantically, excited for what would come next. Simone gave him a long kiss on his forehead before she turned around and placed her left knee on his other side, backing herself against his stubble. She leaned forward in doing so and wrapped her hand around his cock, feeling it twitch in response to being touched again.

Steven started rolling his tongue over her sensitive nub with delight, happy to make her feel good as she stroked him slowly with her hand. She sped up as he sped up, hoping that the other would get them across the finish line.

Each time Simone sensed that Steven was getting too close, she would stop and drop his cock, causing him to hum with frustration as he sucked and nibbled her. She was about to cum, but she couldn't let him have relief first.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You're doing so good." She moaned as his tongue circled faster. She had left his hard-on alone, focusing on her orgasm as he coaxed it out of her. "Yes, Stevie, yes!" She exclaimed as she was on the cusp of completion.

Steven was confident now that he was doing a good job, lips and chin covered in her sweet juices as she clenched her thighs tighter over his ears and climaxed with a fury of bad words that only she could make angelic. The sweet sounds made him smile under her proudly.

Simone got off his face, trying to hide her wobbling to keep the guise of strength she had. Sitting back at his side, she could see the gorgeous, bound Englishman's smile, slick with her wetness, and felt she owed him a compliment.

"Fantastic job, sweetheart. Are you ready to feel the mess you just made of me?" She asked. Steven nodded with delight, excited to see what she had in store. Simone reached for his binds and undid them before guiding him to sit up. She pressed her breasts against his chest and sat slowly down his length with a hiss, adjusting to him on entry.

A heavy exhale escaped Steven, finally feeling her warmth around him. Simone wrapped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him as she slowly rocked her hips. Kissing Steven was always gentle; he wanted to ensure he did it right each time. Kissing was like a talent of his, consistently in sync as his tongue explored Simone's.

Steven's hands caressed the soft skin of her back, moving with each move she made. Up, down, swivel, rolling her pelvis to feel him push against every spot that made her unbutton little by little. She pulled away from the kiss when she felt his heart beat faster as he drew himself to climax.

"Not yet, sweetheart." She demanded, still moving her hips up and down, in and out. She was close, but not nearly as close as he was.

"I don't think I can hold it much longer, love," Steven admitted. He did everything he could to keep the pleasure down as she denied him release. Simone grabbed the sides of his face and pressed her forehead to his, prompting him to look into her eyes,

"Wait for me. I'm almost there." She choked out, moving faster now. His tip rutted against her g-spot repeatedly when she pushed herself into this position. She started to feel the build spill over, coming unglued again.

"Cum now, Stevie. Now!" She cried out, feeling the climax rush out of her.

Steven felt her grip pulsate around his cock. That, along with her command, caused him to pull her closer to him as he erupted into her. Simone's movements grew shakey as her knees grew weak and weary of riding, so Steven did his best to pick up where she couldn't to finish riding out their orgasms, thrusting himself into her a couple of times before they came to completion.

Steven fell backward onto the bed, taking Simone with him and pulling her in tighter. "You're proper gorgeous, darling." He complimented, burying his face in her neck. She smiled and kissed his forehead,

"Thank you, sweetheart. You're handsome as the devil and far more polite." She said.

Steven trailed tiny kisses along her neck, enjoying the snuggle while he got the chance to. It made him wish he could stay this way a bit longer, drift off in her arms, and wake up with her again. It had been so long since they did that. Simone wanted the same thing.

There was only one way to really get to the bottom of her feelings, and she knew it.

"I might be able to help with the Jake issue." She said, breaking the peaceful silence. As if Marc had been in control the whole time, he was the one who responded.

"Why the sudden change?"

"Because it's bonkers, and I'm worried. No matter how I feel about you, I want you to be okay." She said, pulling out of the embrace now that Steven wasn't in front. She didn't want to fight anymore. "But I'm going to need your full cooperation, Marc. No matter how crazy my methods may seem." She told him sternly. Marc nodded,

"Of course. Anything."

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