#we have the same backstory too slightly

[microbihon]

He's so cool He's like SUPER DUPER cool

[phenphoenix]

Husk and nifty up next! They are a bit harder since their personalities aren't explored as much. However I still had fun thinking about what to do with them!

In this AU I’d say that husk never was an overlord. Since we don’t know much about nifty and Al’s relationship, which I’m going off of for the sake of this AU, I’m just gonna say that Charolette helped husk in a time he needed it and thus made a deal with him. His personality is also a bit of a shot in the dark as well because that too doesn’t have lots to go off of. But if I had to guess I’d say that husk at his core is a caring person, and can see through any facade. So in this AU *Husker* has those same traits, but with that more silly and slightly sadistic tone that Nifty has.

Nifty or rather Niff. Is basically just Nifty with that grumpy old drunk vibe husk has. And as for backstory I’d say that she was an overlord. And made a deal with charlotte to save her power. But instead of a gambling issue, maybe it was more of an obsessive behavior. Which is something shown in the show. Anyways this obviously backfired and she now works as the bar tender of the hotel. I’ll draw it eventually but the actual bar doesn’t change in size. Instead she just has this goofy stool she uses.

Now since this isn’t a like total swap and Al was still the radio demon at one point that made me wonder if I wanted it to still be his deals the two are under. But I’m on then fence about that because he would likely free their souls. Not wanting to force them to help like how he does in the show. So I figured why not have it be Charolette? It would make sense for the AU being a swap and all, and also give more depth to her overall. I have some more ideas regarding her and Al but I’ll do it in a separate post.

Full image

MASTERPOST

[ladydostoevsky]

Idk of request are still opens, but if no you can just ignore this haha.

Sooo can you do an escenario of hua cheng x male!reader x xie lian where the reader was the best friend of xie lian before xian le fell and like with the power of character backstory they knew hua cheng aswell.

That was like the context, but my request is like:

After the 800 years of previous events, xie lian, hua cheng and the reader meet again at the banyue arc(with xie lian meeting hua cheng fisrt ofc) and when they saw the reader (who ill suppose died by saving xie lian from something and u know, ✨️drama✨️) they can't belive it cus his soul should have been banished and welp. After the end of the thing (timeskip) when the reader tries to leave after helping em' with the mission, both xie lian and hua chen stop him from doing so. But why did M/N tried to leave as fast as possible? Hoho, well let's say he accidentaly inhaled a flowers scent wich had an strong afrodasic and didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of his dearest friends and tried to leave (failling miserably) and we all know both of our bois are so fricking touch starved at this point and here is where the smut makes it's presentation. (idk much about that so u can just wite it however you'd like, but reader should be the bottom oh yes hahah)

ik its a large request so if its too much just ignore me haha 😭.

A tender touch🌺

Xie Lian & Hua Cheng x m!reader

Warnings: nsfw, 18+, novel and donghua spoilers, little bit violence, breeding, m!sex

A/N: I’m not the best when it comes to smut, especially when it’s threesome so warning, this is really cringe🥲 but I hope you like it

The floor of the temple was icy, freezing, just like the atmosphere which surrounded them. Fear seeped through y/n, who was kneeling on the cold ground, before the altar of a temple on which Xie Lian was chained on. He didn’t know if he was more afraid of the creature, the monster with white half crying-smiling mask or this thing hurting Xie Lian - his prince, his best friend, his beloved. The latter. In his hand, was the little ghostfire who tried to keep them out of the temple and warn them. y/n felt pity for it.

He bowed down, his forehead touching the ground. ‘’Please. I beg you. Take me. Have mercy on His Highness. Whatever you plan to do, please take me instead of him.’’ y/n straightened himself a little and looked with teary eyes towards the white clothed creature, pleading, ‘’I beg you… punish me for whatever he has done,’’ he whispered desperately. ‘’Y/N! STOP IT! I FORBID YOU TO SAY ANOTHER WORD. YOU WILL NOT SACRIFICE YOURSELF FOR ME!’’ Xie Lian screamed. The creature laughed out loud, slowly moving towards yn, like a predator. ‘’DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM, YOU FUCKER. LEAVE HIM OUT OF THIS.’’ The Crown Prince screamed but to no avail, the creature ignored him. y/n gulped as he got closer. ‘’My my, are you a brave one,’’ he stopped right in front of him and crouched down to be on the same eye level, the little ghost still in his hand, ‘’and so stupid. Willing to give your life for someone else's sins and choices.’’

y/n eyes widened slightly after the realization. He whispered to the mask in front of him, ‘’kill me instead then.’’ The little fire started to glow even more, little sounds coming from it. ‘’Oh I will. Let’s see what face His Highness will make after it.’’ The next second Fang Xin pierced through y/n.

y/n looked at the ground, in shame and sadness. He didn’t dare to look His Highness in the eyes, or even San Lang, who he knew was actually Hua Cheng. ‘’I don’t understand…how?’’ The Crown Prince was in shock, in disbelief. Xie Lian saw his best friend being killed in front of his eyes by White No-Face. Same as Xie Lian, Hua Cheng felt some kind of betrayal and hurt, he - being a little pitiful and weak ghostfire - also was in that temple and saw everything. If he really somehow survived, why didn’t he come looking for His Highness? It has been 800 years…

‘’Tell me, how are you here? What happened to you?’’ Xie Lian asked, his earlier shock turning into a sadness. y/n looked at San Lang then Xie Lian. ‘’Did you really think he would have let me die? That easily? My life was worse than hell, a constant torture after that night.’’ He looked away from them, towards the darkness of the cave. All hidden and locked up memories coming back to him. ‘’He did that only to torment and manipulate you. And me.’’ Xie Lian let out a sight he realized he was holding. Hua Cheng’s eyes were full of sorrow. They looked at each other then back to y/n.

He looked at Xie Lian, ‘’I’m sorry, Your Highness. After that, I didn’t dare to show my face anymore. Not like the monster would have let me. I was afraid. I hated myself for I couldn’t save you in the end. I blame myself till this day. You had to go through so much because I was too weak to protect you.’’ Hua Cheng’s dead heart warmed in that moment. After all, he felt the exact same way. He blamed himself for not protecting the two when they needed it the most. But he is here now, and he will protect them for eternity, from now on.

‘’Can you forgive me, Your Highness? I understand if you don’t want to or-’’ Xie Lian gave a sad smile and moved closer to y/n. ‘’There is nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong. It was never your fault, it was White No-Face who did this. I just wish you hadn't been there. I’m sorry you had to go through this, because of me.’’ The prince leaned closer and hugged his former friend. It took the man by surprise but gladly accepted it. The warmth of his best friend being so foreign to him. He locked eyes with San Lang who looked at him with sadness. y/n gave him a sweet smile of reassurance, for which the Ghost King smiled back.

After that the three stuck together the whole mission. y/n and San Lang got to know each other more, surprisingly they clicked immediately. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian still didn’t know how y/n survived that night. He wasn’t a god, neither a ghost so what was he? But they understood that it was not their business if y/n didn’t want to tell them.

Currently, everyone was looking for the Banyue Fern to use as an antidote for the scorpion-tailed snake’s venom. Unfortunately, y/n had strayed too far from the others. He realized it when he found flowers that shouldn’t be growing in a desert. They were bright, colorful and smelled so nicely. They were tempting. They were so very familiar…

NO! The land of the tender! They were the tender flowers that contained strong aphrodisiacs. The moment he realized he backed off. Thank the heavens that these flowers didn’t speak or he would have surely done something he couldn’t even imagine. He ran back to the others, hoping that the aphrodisiac didn’t make it to his system.

After all the hell was over and the mission completed, Earth Master Ming Yi and Wind Master Shi Qingxuan came to take Pei Xiu back to heaven realm. The gods exchanged a few words. Beside Hua Cheng, y/n felt ill. His body temperature had risen after the tender flowers. He was sweating and his knees felt weak. He holds one hand in front of his lower face to hide his reddened face and to seal his mouth. Hua Cheng turned to him, concerned, ‘’y/n? Is everything alright? You seem… sick.’’ Only thing he could do was nod his head and turn away from him.

With every passing second he could feel more sweat forming on his skin, he wanted to let out sounds he thought he could never form. He felt a painful pulsing between his legs. Seeing Xie Lian and Hua Cheng next to him didn’t help, it made it all worse. Slowly, he started to back off but Hua Cheng grabbed his forearm before he could escape. Xie Lian walked over to them. ‘’y/n, what’s wrong?’’ He walked to him and put his palm on his forehead to feel his temperature. ‘’You are burning! You must have a fewer.’’ Feeling his prince’s touch he put his hand over his mouth even harder. He let out weird noises that neither of the two understood. y/n shook his head. ‘’Gege, we have to get him somewhere else. I don’t think it’s sickness.’’

The two brought y/n to an old empty house of Banyue. They put him on the floor, making him sit against a wall. Only sound that was heard was y/n’s constant breathing. With shaky hands he tried to open his robe. ‘’Y-you two… you h-have to leave.’’ Xie Lian was first to react. He crouched down in front of him, ‘’we will not. Tell us what happened?’’

He helped y/n and tore the robe’s front open so he could get some cold air. His fingers brushed against y/n’s hot skin which made him let out a little whine. Xie Lian’s breath stuck, but he didn’t back off. ‘’T-the flowers, t-tender…’’ the arousal he felt made it hard to talk. San Lang came next to Xie Lian and put his hand on y/n’s chest, feeling his fast heartbeat. y/n wrapped his fingers around San Lang’s wrist, not wanting him to pull away.

‘’That’s what I thought,’’ Hua Cheng whispered, mostly to himself. ‘’Please…’’ y/n’s other hand made it to his hard erection. His hand was quickly replaced with Xie Lian’s, ‘’you helped us today so well, it’s only fair if we help you now.’’ The prince and the Ghost King gave a knowing smile to each other. Hua Cheng tore the whole robe to shreds, freeing the whole body beneath it free to the cold air of Banyue. Xie Lian leaned in and kissed his old friend, his- no- their beloved.

His tongue taking the lead and exploring every corner he could find. His fingers ran delicately over y/n soft pink nipples. The man didn’t see the point to hold back anymore and let out all the sounds that were stuck in his throat. Hua Cheng also leaned closer and wrapped his fingers around y/n’s precum leaking cock. He slightly pressed on to the pink tip which made y/n whine against Xie Lian’s mouth.

‘’Don’t worry, love. We will take good care of you,’’ whispered Hua Cheng. Xie Lian leaned back, a string of saliva connecting the two. ‘’Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, y/n?’’ Xie Lian said while taking off his white robe. Hua Cheng followed and his red clothing was thrown somewhere he could care less. This time Xie Lian took y/n's pulsing cock and started slowly moving his hand up and down. San Lang latched his mouth onto y/n’s sensitive nipple, kissing and teasing it. y/n moaned their names, feeling himself nearing. ‘’X-Xie Lian…nghh San L-Lang, I’m g-gonna cum.’’ Xie Lian’s other hand played with y/n’s smooth hair, ’’cum for us, dear.’’ He came without a second thought.

The Crown Prince gave him a sweet, loving smile, pecked his darling’s soft lips and started moving towards his abdomen, leaving butterfly kisses behind. He took all of y/n in his mouth, swallowing his cum in the process. With his experience in sword swallowing in the past it wasn’t very hard. He had no gag reflex.

While Xie Lian was busy with y/n’s cock, San Lang used his own precum and saliva as a lube and smeared it on his own hard cock. y/n felt his second orgasm coming. In ecstasy he grabbed Xie Lian’s hair, not wanting him to pull away. ‘’Y-your Highness…mm,’’ The prince started to run his fingers gently across y/n’s body. Being so hot, bothered and sensitive, this act threw him over the edge again and he came deep into Xie Lian’s mouth. ‘’Xie Lian…’’ he breathed out a whisper, barely hearable. ‘’Such a good boy, aren’t you? So good for us,’’ Hua Cheng teased with his low voice. The man beneath let out a desperate whine, knowing what’s coming next. The black haired king leaned closer, giving him a gentle kiss on his forehead and lips. ‘’I’ll try to be gentle.’’ Xie Lian went to y/n’s neck and started to suck marks into his skin.

San Lang positioned himself in front of y/n’s unprepared entrance and slowly entered. Feeling soft and thigh walls around him he let out a grunt, entering inch by inch. y/n let out loud cries from the pain. Tears started to drip down from the corners of his eyes. Xie Lian shushed him, assuring that everything was alright. He kissed the tears away and started to abuse his mouth with his tongue again. When Hua Cheng was finally all in, and confirmed that y/n wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, he started moving his hips. At the beginning it was slow and gentle, as time went by he started to speed up. Rocking in and out like an animal in heat.

He pulled y/n’s legs more towards him to hit that one spot that surely made his darling lose it. y/n grabbed onto Xie Lian to steady himself. ‘’Gods y/n…’’ San Lang moaned, feeling his peak coming. He pressed y/n into a mating position, to look him into his beautiful tear stained eyes while he cums deep into his gore. y/n screamed, feeling overstimulated. ‘’S-San L-Lang… p-please,’’ with a few more pumps he came inside.

After a few moments he pulled out, panting. Feeling himself coming down from his high. He watched how some of his seed tried to come out of y/n. He pushed it back inside with his fingers, smiling, feeling some kind of pride. ‘’You are so beautiful like this. Now my beloved…’’ Xie Lian moved away from his side and placed himself on top of y/n. He already knew that it was going to be a long night.

[somerandomdudelmao]

sitting on my hands, silently screaming because I can't stop thinking about the connection between Casey and Raph and about Casey discovering said connection and So, to temper my hype, I decided to try and find as many Casey-Raph parallels and possible Raph-sourced influences on Casey: (forgive my formatting I am not used to Tumblr) 1. Casey being able to easily mimic Raph's growls, despite having no memory of learning (note: more obvious b/c it happened so recent. though, based on the fact that the other turtles were surprised by Casey making the noise... did Raph teach him?)

2. Honestly, just Casey's protective nature in general? Casey works so hard to protect his family (learning how to carry his much-bigger-uncles, caring to their needs when their vulnerable without question (i.e. tot Leo and Donnie), literally any time he's concerned with the turtle's health))

3. (Slightly-iffy BUT:) Being very conscious of his strength/fragility of others - - which might be a tad silly to say when all his family is bigger and stronger than him, and there is already another connection in that to Leo, but I cannot get Raph ever admitting "I'm the strong one, the big brother, so I need to protect and take care of you guys!!" so I'm calling it a mix of both Raph and Leo

4. The way they hold/cradel the tinies is very similar (note: there might be more reflections of this category but I honestly can't tell b/c most characters are bigger then Casey)

5. Another different, fun pose where they mirror each other pt.3 (except its very obvious)

6. Krang-ified Casey looks a lot like Krang-ified Raph; from the right eye (our left) to the tentacle right arm (our left) to the clawed left arm (our right) to the spikes. too many similarities for me not to at least point it out.

7. Casey and Raph being attacked by (proportionally the same size to them) Tiny Donnies and getting absolutely bodied.

8. This specific expression - - a possible common trait in just adoring cute things? (note: need more data to find this out, cus I did find a similar expression on Donnie, and we can't really see sparkles in Robot!Raph's eyes, but there was one from the show that's rather close.)

... did I over look into some traits that can maybe be explained other ways? probably. did I miss some parallels? definitely, this series is littered with them. but this AU has me by the throat and we are getting backstory on MY favorite of the turtles, so I need to cope somehow. (This is also my first ask. Idk if I'm did it right. I hope it goes through, and at least someone sees it.) (Message to anyone who sees this: HYDRATE OR DIEDRATE, BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T HAVE A DONATELLO WHO WILL REVIVE YOU.)

What a wonderful research

[inbarfink]

So when I talk about how the Winter King is, on some level, far more removed from original-flavor Simon than Ice King ever was - Betty is the most obvious example. Ice King’s whole obsession with princesses and the kidnapping therefore and general romantic neediness has always been a Mad, Sad and Magical reflection of just how much Simon misses Betty.

Even when he was too far too gone to recognize Betty when she was standing right in front of his face

Ice King always carried the hole she left in his heart. Meanwhile, the Winter King has full access to his old memories, he just forgotten her because he doesn’t care anymore. 

Even while he was forcing Princess Bubblegum to dance along in a recreation of that same romantic grief.

But still, I feel like what happened Winterworld version of Marceline is an ever more poetic example, even if figuring out what exactly happened includes a lot of inferences and headcanons.

In “I Remember You”, during yet another emotional breakdown, Ice King accidentally shoved Marceline - and he was immediately absolutely overcome with regret and shame

Because although he didn’t consciously remember what Marceline meant to him, he still retained these feelings of fatherly care and affection. Some sort of core element of Simon’s being that persisted despite the effects of the Magic Crown. Because of that, he couldn't even stand the thought of hurting her, even slightly.

Ice King was capable of doing some fucked-up things in his desperation and madness - but hurting Marceline was the one line he never ever wanted to cross.

But the Winter King?

We only have hints of what went down between Winterworld Simon and Winterworld Marceline. All we know is: 

The Winter King and Winterworld Marceline had the same Simon and Marcy backstory as in the Mainworld, and the Winter King fully remembers it - since he conjures a vision of them during his song. 

Since Marceline’s Ax Bass still exists in its familiar form, it’s safe to say this version of Marceline did reach adulthood and probably had a pretty similar life to Mainworld Marceline.

The Winter King did something absolutely morally repugnant to the Candy Kingdom in general and Princess Bubblegum specifically. Although at the time the Winter King came to being, Marcy and Peebs were still reeling from that centuries-old breakup (assuming there are no other major divergences in the timeline) - I have no doubt that Marceline still had enough lingering feelings (and also maybe general human decency) that she would not stand for Simon’s actions.

And yet the real Marceline is 100% unaccounted for, only her Ax-Bass remains, in the Winter King’s possession. 

Or rather, in the possession of Ice Marcy, an icy duplicate of Marceline as a child living in a gilded cage in the Winter King’s palace - presumably just as lacking in Free Will as the Ice Scouts and any other creation of the Winter King.

The Winter King’s little conversation with Simon about Betty is the best hint we have to Winter King’s motivation for making Ice Marcy. Namely, he suggested making an ‘Ice Betty’ as a way for Simon to get over losing the love of his life. And he’s fully aware that this is unethical - he just doesn’t care.

I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume that Marceline and the Winter King would have some sort of confrontation about what he did to Bubblegum and since the Winter King implicitly compares it to the situation with ‘the dead one’ (Betty)… I honestly think it is not a stretch at all to assume the Winter King killed Marceline. 

And even if he didn’t straight-up kill her, I think most scenarios that fall under Occam’s Razor still involve the Winter King knowingly inflicting a great amount of emotional and potentially physical damage to Marceline. And it definitely involves the Winter King claiming Marceline’s most beloved posession as his own and giving it to a false icy duplicate of her child self he made to replace her. 

I mean, the fact that he even bothered implies that he at least misses her more than Betty. But his discussion with Simon still means he considers replacing her with a nonsapient magic ice construct that copies not the person she was when she was speaking out against him but the child who adored him to be more than a suitable solution. Which is a demonstration that whatever sort of love remained in the Winter King’s heart for Marceline was a very twisted and selfish kind of love. 

Even if you want to argue that the Winter King has nothing to do with Marceline’s disappearance - the fact that this is how he dealt with her being gone shows how much of the love Simon genuinely had for Marcy is now become a hollow and self-centered sort of thing. This is also a form of hurting her.  And again, with the way the Winter King is in general - I think it’s very likely he has a lot to do with what happened to Marceline.

Meanwhile in the Mainverse, the Ice King couldn’t even lightly shove her away in a fit of emotions without being overcome with pain and regret.

So which Ice Wizard really retains more of what made Simon Petrikov who has is? The one who kept his identity and memories but has lost all of the love and care that has once motivated him more than anything? Or the one who can’t remember his name or his old face most days but still retains this ever-persistent echo of his romantic love for Betty and his fatherly love for Marceline even if he doesn’t fully understand where it comes from? 

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: we got trouble in paradise !!!!! same sidenote once more: you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.8K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Excruciating, if he thought about it too long. Fine, if he just sucked it up and went with it. If he didn’t spend hours and hours and hours of his time stuck inside his own head, it was fine.

Your pace.

He was going to have to go with your pace.

If Joe was going to win this... contest he was having, mainly with himself, he was going to have to stick to your pace. Like he had done before. And yea, it was slow. Maybe even stagnant most days. But he had always let you take the lead and had always let you find new normals between the two of you.

It had worked like that when you lived together, and it was going to have to work like that now that you no longer did.

Was it awful?

Yes.

Because in which direction were you even moving? Joe had no idea. You might as well have been going backwards, there was no way for him to tell, and it was eating Joe alive. But he was just going to have to deal with it.

Your lead. Your time. Your pace.

With your new flatmate, your inside-the-flat behaviour had drastically changed. What was once the exact location of all the intimacy was slowly turning into a place that resembled outside. Where strangers were (Josh). Where people could perceive you (Josh).  

The safety was gone, a little.

When you stirred awake after falling asleep on your sofa, and Joe was still sat by your feet, casually holding onto an ankle still, the first few seconds of seeing him there made you smile. He was watching TV, which was showing something you hadn’t put on, and the changing lights that illuminated him gave you a good look at his profile. At the curve of his nose. At his slightly parted lips. His tongue working along his teeth. Along the inside of his cheek.

God, he looked fucking perfect.

Even with his hair too short and unstyled.

Even with his tongue pushing his face into weird expressions.

You got to wake up slow, felt like you’d been out for over an hour, easily, and loved the little fragment you got of how things used to be. Just the two of you on the sofa. TV on. Soft touches. No one else there to make it weird. To ask questions. To give looks.

Just closeness and gentle affection, a touch of protectiveness as you were being held by the ankle as you’d napped.

But then you heard a kitchen drawer close behind you, and you immediately balled up in a knee-jerk response. You pulled your feet right from Joe’s lap as you tucked in your knees. Ripped your ankle right from his grasp.

And it was silly.

It was just your feet.

Josh likely would’ve seen them on Joe’s lap already.

He would have had to have let Joe in too. You remembered the key you had meant to slip back into his coat pocket but had forgotten about.

All Josh really knew about Joe was that he used to live in the flat, and that you still remained good mates. Close friends. Sort of flatmates still, but not, because, location.

You had gone through every which way of describing you and Joe whilst trying to remain an air of casualness.

Yea, Joe would still come over a lot, since you were friends, you know? Normal stuff.

But then your friend had gone, “Ha. Yea, all right. Good mates. That’s one way of describing it.” Like she’d known anything – she didn’t.

She had no idea.

Not a clue.

She couldn’t have, because you and Joe weren’t like you and Joe were around others.

You didn’t blame her, but you’d quickly changed the subject anyway. Swiftly moved onto a different topic. Asked Josh if he liked pizza, because you had pizza a lot in this flat. Josh did like pizza. But, only without any cheese on. “I’m vegan.” You didn’t think that technically even counted as pizza. But, sure.

It was just your feet.

And it was just Josh in the kitchen, likely not even paying attention to where your feet were.

You realised it a second too late though. Your knees had already been tucked in, and Joe’s face had already fallen. You could see how his eyes darted from you to your new flatmate over the back of the sofa a few times.

In a bid to save yourself, to save the situation, you straightened your legs again and pushed both feet into Joe’s thigh. Masked it as a tired post-nap stretch and smiled through a yawn, doing your best to move on as quickly as you could.

Unbeknownst to you, there had been some quiet conversation going between Joe and Josh. Soft spoken words, no louder than the TV, but not quite whispers either. Voices hushed and kept low because, she’s asleep. And she’d come home and looked like her Friday had lasted a whole month, Josh had chuckled as he picked up the empty pizza box, tidying up.

Joe had scrunched up his eyebrows and couldn’t help his little pout as he’d cast his eyes down to look at you.

“Yea, the pizza sort of gave it away.” He’d said, and for a moment, Josh’s mind swam as it tried to make sense of what Joe’d just said.

And Joe saw, but he didn’t really want to explain it. Didn’t want to tell him that, pizza sort of meant a lot. It was just food, and not even your or his favourite, but there was comfort and routine and pizza sort of belonged to the two of you.

Pizza was yours.

Josh didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, no, this was mine – I had this.”

And, oh, my God, Joe could really fucking kick himself for thinking the worst.

In casual chat, Joe puzzled it together. You’d gotten home. Seemed annoyed. Tired. Overall just in a terrible mood. And Josh had offered you a bite of his pizza – the one he was already eating when you’d walked in. And you’d looked at it for a second and then had gone, “Not hungry. Thank you though.”

Joe was the worst.

He watched you sleep and you looked so peaceful. So soft. He was the actual worst person ever. Drawing conclusions where there wasn’t even anything to be drawn in the first place.

Joe watched you as Josh quietly cleaned the kitchen. Listened as he complained about not being able to open the window in his ensuite, how it would get stuck all the time, and asked if Joe knew anything about that. Joe didn’t tear his eyes away from you as he said, “Yea, she was meant to get that fixed, but ended up just opening the bedroom window to air the room out.”

Your cheeks were slightly blushed, and you sounded a little congested. Joe could hear your breath rumble a bit, like it was getting stuck in your chest. Start of a cold, maybe, he thought, and he knew that it was probably one more thing that had added to all the bad today. All the bad that had made you text him to come over.

To fix it.

And he fucking loved fixing it.

Joe wanted to make you tea and feed you soup and stick you into one of his hoodies. Stuff your hot water bottle into the pocket for good measure. Hold you close to his chest where, sometimes, if he held you there for long enough, you’d suddenly cry. You would sob without explanation, bury your face into his neck, and it was weird but Joe would fucking glow on the inside from the knowledge that you deemed Joe safe enough to get your tears out.

God, he was so fucking gone for you.

Loved you.

Loved you loved you.

Did he not want you to have a nice flatmate? Did he want you to have one that didn’t offer you pizza after a long, rough day? Was he really that terrible of a human being?

No.

He did want you to live with a nice person. One that did offer you pizza after a long, rough day.

It just upset him that it wasn’t him.

He wanted to be the nice flatmate.

Like he had been.

Well.

Fucked that up all by himself, didn’t he?

Joe had to remind himself of all the reasons why he made those personal choices. And the plan had been working. It truly had been. But then you’d just pulled your feet from his lap because Josh was there and... were you embarrassed of him? Was that what this boiled down to?

You pushed your feet into Joe’s leg as you stretched and yawned, and Joe waited for Josh to walk out of the room to tap you just above the knee. To squeeze you there.

You looked up and around, just to make sure you were alone, before you held out your hand that Joe then grabbed hold off. He pulled until you sat up and then, in a rogue move that he didn’t see coming, you leant in to kiss him.

Josh was just down the hall, door wide open.

And you kissed him.

Surprise.

Not moving backwards, then.

It was only short. Just a quick small little thing, but it was lips against lips, and it startled Joe so much, he couldn’t even think to be quiet about it. To not let his lips smack the way they naturally would when giving someone a kiss.

If that bothered you, you didn’t show it, mind too sluggish to catch up to what was happening maybe, and Joe grinned as he softly said, “Hi.” after you broke apart.

“I’m sorry.” was the first thing out of your mouth. You meant for texting him to come over and then promptly falling asleep on the sofa before he had even made his way over. You hadn’t meant to do that.

Joe heard your apology and took it to mean, sorry for the hard flinch away from him, which seemed silly now. You had just gone and kissed him. There was hardly anything left to be sorry for now, was there?

Joe had taken a step forward by being casually intimate with you in front of a stranger - held your feet in front of Josh - and, at first, you had shied away, only to then meet him there on your own terms a second later - be casually intimate with Joe with Josh just in the other room.

A new normal.

Your pace.

It went like that for a while then.

Joe would take your whole hand without asking, only for you to snatch it back and then give him a finger.

Which was fine.

Made Joe secretly smile every time it happened. He started being able to predict it a little too. Knew that if he’d overshoot, he’d end up with what he wanted in the first place too. Which, if you zoomed in on that a lot, could be classified as manipulation.

But you were happy.

So it was fine.

You were trying and so was Joe.

You were trying when, a couple of days later, you found yourself in a pub with Joe and a couple of his friends and he’d convinced you to just get a quick drink, just the one, and yea, that was okay. You could have a drink with Joe’s friends. They were kind, fun people.

You ended up meeting everyone outside, and after a round of greeting, you offered to go get drinks inside. When you came back to join the group, Joe had sat down on a barstool and you went to stand beside him. Handed him his drink. Cheersed him before you went for a sip. And then you felt his hand curl around your hip.

You tried the whole time.

Blushed the whole time too.

You couldn’t hold his hand as you walked home from the pub after that one drink.

But you could accept his scarf getting draped around your neck when he noticed you were cold.

And you were also trying when the two of you were on the tube together, and Joe had spotted someone subtly point their phone at him. Instead of acting like he was alone, like he was just out and about on his own for a second, he sat forward a little and moved his arm to touch your opposite outer thigh. It was meant to be protective, and it did shield you from having your picture taken, but it took a lot for you to not move his arm away and get up to stand near the doors where you could pretend you didn’t even know who he was.

You couldn’t turn around on the escalator to look at him after.

But you could accept the hand on your lower back as Joe guided you towards the exit of the busy station.

You were trying. Actively trying. And it felt like agony if you thought about it for too long. But it was fine if you just sucked it up and went with it.

Joe tried too.

Joe tried his best to be normal about you going out with Josh and some of his friends. Just told you to have a good time. To call him when you got home.

Joe tried his best to be normal when you told him Josh really wanted a dog, and maybe that would actually be so fun, wouldn’t it? You would go to pick out one with Josh, because if it was going to live at the flat, you would have to get along with it too, and wasn’t that smart thinking? Joe had to remind himself that you weren’t getting a dog together, but, that was sort of exactly what was happening, wasn’t it?

And Joe tried his bestest best to be normal when after being buzzed up into your flat, he found your front door left open for him to make his way in by himself, because you were too busy in the living room where Josh was playing guitar and making you laugh by singing about what you were doing and trying to make things rhyme. And then Joe had to try even harder when the song quickly turned into rhymes that made fun of him, which only made you laugh louder.

Yea.

Josh was a nice guy.

But, fuck Josh.

After hearing the giggles Josh was able to pull out of you, Joe became determined to let Josh hear what other noises Joe was able pull out of you.

And for a little while, you relished the attention. Joe had learnt a thing or two about what you liked in bed by now, and he knew how to drag it out for maximum pleasure too.

Joe had laid you down on your own bed, spread you out and undressed you real slow. When you’d gone to grab the hem of his T-shirt, he’d taken hold of your hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss it.

Just you, then.

All about you.

Which was... you weren’t going to lie, this was fucking fantastic.

But it became a little weird how Joe kept turning his head to look at your closed bedroom door every time you let a moan slip out.

It became a little weird how he kept softly instructing you to be louder for him.

“Come on, let me hear you.”

It didn’t feel wildly out of place, but... something felt a little off about it.

You didn’t mention it until afterwards, when you were sat with your backs against the headboard, and you could see how it lingered on his face; something was off.

“Hey...”

Joe was quick to turn his head to look at you, and he immediately smiled to hide whatever you knew was brewing underneath the surface.

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?” you tried to hide your worry with warmth, which was silly, because Joe’d already seen it.

Joe lifted his arm to throw around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, warm sticky skin to warm sticky skin, and he kissed you on your hairline before casually answering, “Yea, of course.”

And you knew he was lying, but you kept quiet. Silently played with the folds of your duvet over your lap and waited until, finally, you heard Joe sigh.

“Promise not to make fun of me,” Joe started, to which you didn’t respond with words, but instead found the hand that wasn’t curled around your shoulder and intertwined your fingers with his.

Joe took a moment to find the right words.

“But...”

The silence gave your brain time to panic. A million things went through your mind. Every single little thing you’d done that could’ve maybe upset him.

Something was wrong, and you were the problem, because you had definitely fucked up, hadn’t you?

What had you done?

The key.

Fuck.

You kept forgetting about his key. It was there on your dresser. You could get out of bed and give it to him right now if that was–

“I don’t like that there’s a guy in your bedroom.”

And...

Oh.

Was he... was he being serious?

You moved away from him a little to get a proper good look at his face, and followed his gaze to see he was looking at your bedroom door again.

And... oh, God.

You didn’t like that.

That left a weird taste in your mouth.

Made you frown at him. Made you grimace a little.

You understood what he meant. But Jesus fucking Christ.

“Joe...” you started, moving even further from him, sitting up properly now.

“No, I know... I know,” he sighed, lifting both hands that he then dropped into his lap as he made a stupid face. “It’s stupid.”

Which was exactly right.

Joe was being stupid.

Joe had moved out and had forced you to get a new flatmate and now he was being a real child about it. Was calling your former bedroom your bedroom still, which it wasn’t. Was calling your flatmate ‘a guy’, like he was some random dude, which he wasn’t.

“Josh is my flatmate,” you said, trying to make the point that it was normal for him to be in the flat with you.

And then Joe felt it.

Joe felt whatever was inside of his chest, that stupid dark little monster that had been bouncing around in there all night, he felt it crawl up into his throat. Into his voice box.

It was too quick, the reaction too fast.

Joe knew the words were unfair and undeserved and ridiculously accusatory without any real legs to stand on.

Joe heard himself say it. Heard himself snap the words, and they were out of his mouth before he could even begin to try to stop them from even being formed at all.

“Yea exactly.”

That green fucking monster.

Joe saw how your face dropped. Saw the disbelief and the confusion. The did-he-really-just wheels turning behind your eyes that slowly clicked into their yea-he-did slots.

You knew what Joe meant, but desperately tried to find the humour in Joe’s face, because surely, he must have been joking.

It wasn’t a funny joke.

And then, you realised it wasn’t a joke at all.

Joe didn’t smile or laugh. Just looked at you, expression slightly stern but otherwise blank, and holy fucking shit.

No.

You remained calm.

Wanted to fucking scream at him, yell, “What do you think you’re accusing me of exactly?!” and, “Please say that again, but slower, will you?!” but, you didn’t.

Instead you turned around and slowly got out of bed, taking one of your pillows with you.

“No, baby, wait,”

Baby.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I– I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong,” Joe rambled, but you slowly stalked towards the door.

“I’m just,” Joe rubbed an anxious hand across his forehead. “God, I... I don’t know.”

Jealous.

He couldn’t even say it.

But that was okay. You heard him loud and clear, anyway.

“Please come back to bed.”

You reached for the door handle and had already decided you weren’t going to come back to bed. You’d sleep on the sofa and Joe was going to have to think about what he’d just said.

Just before you stepped out, you turned your head over your shoulder and looked at him.

Joe.

Sat in your bed in his old bedroom, chest bared, leaning forward into his own lap like he’d been reaching out for you as you’d taken the four steps it took to get to your door.

And it was the cruelest thing in the whole fucking world to realise right then and there that you... shit.

You fucking loved him.

What he said had hurt, but what he hadn’t said hurt worse. The silent, I know what you are like as a flatmate because I have lived it and now you have another one, rung loud in your ears, and you understood right then that the only reason it felt like your heart was bleeding was because you loved him.

Fuck.

You opened the door without looking, but then heard the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar being played in the living room, and looked towards where it came from.

“Baby,” Joe tried one last time, and one of your hands shot up in warning. He had to stop calling you baby. Had to stop talking all together.

“I’m sorry.” Joe apologised again, voice much softer, much more sincere this time, and you only thought of how Joe wasn’t allowed to be the cause of your pain. Had he not learnt from the past? Had he not listened to you then?

You looked back towards Joe, who was about to open his mouth again to say more apologetic words, you were sure, but you stopped him before he could.

“Joe,” you warned again, but stepped into the hallway anyway, reaching for the door handle on the other side to close it.

Just before you did, you made direct eye-contact with a man who knew he had said the wrong thing at the wrong time, but you just needed him to know extra well.

So you dropped your shoulders and said, “You’re the guy in my bedroom.” before you shut the door.

Joe didn’t move.

Just stared at the wooden panels of the door.

And shit...

You were right.

He was the guy in your bedroom, and why the fuck was he even thinking about anything else?

What else was more important?

Joe had to really force himself to not go after you. You left because you wanted space from him and he didn’t really have any other choice but to take your lead on this one, did he?

Your lead.

Your time.

Your pace.

Fuck.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[vaguely-yandere]

i adore the "mean to everyone but you" trope and i think we need to see that more in our little community here but in a slightly different way than you might expect. (CW: nsfw and degrading)

what i would love to see is the Big Bad Yandere who acts like they're going to chop off your fingers, your toes, beat you black and blue, anything to keep you with them, turns out to be the most pathetic, submissive little thing you've ever had the pleasure of meeting and boy, are you lucky!

they were rude to you at first, immensely so, to the point where you avoided them at all costs. meeting together? need to get there at just the right time so you don't have to sit next to each other. lunch in the same area? you'll eat later. if you see them in a room you're about to enter, you turn right back around and head out, no matter how badly you need to be in that room.

but you have no idea how desperate they are to see you, how hard it is for them to focus when you're sitting next to them, how they adore staring at you and pretending you're eating together when you eat in the same area, how they relish seeing your nose scrunch up a bit, your nostrils flare, your jaw tense, your fists clench, all for you to take a deep breath and keep smiling. (how disappointing. you really should learn how to stand up for yourself, it's fucking pathetic.)

they love you and they hate it because they don't understand it. you're perfect but weak, small, pathetic and for those reasons, they should despise you. you aren't worth their time or anyone else's time! you're useless! but just when they work themselves up enough to hate you until they drop dead, you say a kind word to them or accidentally brush against them and they're right back where they started, hyper aware of every inch of skin covering their body, how hard they're breathing, how fast their heart is racing and how little control they have over their volume. (i have you. i hate how you make me feel. i hate how desperately i want- no, NEED to please you, fuck.. it drives me insane. i fall asleep dreaming of you smiling at me and sometimes, even that thought is too overwhelming. what is wrong with me..?)

they just can't stop themselves! this is the first time they ever felt completely out of control of their body so their first instinct is to be rude and defensive, trying not hard not to let you see just how much you effect them, how they feel their heart pound when they accidentally get a whiff of your scent, how they can hear their pulse in their ears, STRAINING to hear every single noise that comes out of your mouth, how their blood rushes to so many places when you accidentally brush against them and if you touch them on purpose? (touch me! touch me! touch me please, please, you feel so good i- fuck! what is happening to me?!) they smack your hand away and try to hide their face while squeezing their legs together, knees trembling a bit.

doesn't matter how big and scary they are, how strong they are, how cold they are, something about you just melts them and it drives them insane. they're unbelievably confused and head over heels, nearly reduced to tears from pure pleasure when you're around them for longer than a few minutes. (it's not fucking fair! I'm the best, how the hell do you have so much fucking power over me?! how are you doing this?! is it poison?! mind tricks?! tell me!)

if they have a tragic backstory, everything is 10× worse for them. when you touch them they have to tense every muscle in their body to refrain from making a mess in their pants, when you call for them or, god forbid, say their name they whine oh so sweetly and for just a second, you can see the desperate, depraved look on their face before they snap out of it and snap at you. they're whipped for you. addicted. devoted. infatuated. obsessed. even just thinking about you makes them whimper involuntarily and get red in the face, and you fucking bet they're a crybaby. yelling, screaming, fighting, battling, those never make them even tear up but the one time your leg brushed against theirs(fuckfuckfuckFUCK please oh god please please do it again, i need it, i- oh god PLEASE ill do anything, please please PLEASE!), they spent hours in the bathroom, touching themselves and sobbing from pleasure, hoping that you'd come in and see them all pathetic but also terrified their dream would randomly come true.

their emotions quickly start ramping up and up, they're addicted to you. unlike some yanderes, the small things slowly stop satisfying them, they're craving more and more at a rapid rate. they start taking things. pens, pencils, used tissues, left over drinks, thrown out plastic utensils, if you donate clothes then they'll go in and buy them (with a healthy amount of guilt), if you try on clothes at a store, they'll buy them, if you sit down and eat somewhere, they'll sit in the exact same spot when you're done just to try and feel your left over warmth. if it's hot and your wearing shorts, it takes an embarrassing amount of strength not to lick the seat when you leave (i can't stalk you in jail.. besides, when i do get to taste you, i want it to be magical.. fuck that was so cheesy) and when they feel tempted to follow you into bathrooms to truly get closer to you that's when they decide they've had enough.

they'll make you theirs if it's the last thing they do and hope you don't ever realize just how much of a whore they are for you.

[bunnliix]

Love Shot

Inspired by this dialogue prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting "You’re so adorable. I want to pick you up and never let you down."

word count: 1 260 warnings: drinking, alcohol, (not) unrequited crushes, reader getting drunk, reader wanting to get blackout drunk

I was never the type of person to go out clubbing and drinking. Any of my friends could tell you that. I normally stayed far away from clubs, they were far too loud for my taste, and yet here I was on a Friday night, by myself trying to get blackout drunk. There's a bit of a backstory on how I got here, and it all started earlier while I was on campus.

For a bit of backstory, most of my friends I met while in college, except for Felix. Felix and I have been friends since high school. We were both the nerdy type of kids, except that he had the advantage that puberty was nice to him. While I've had a crush on him since I met him, however I valued my friendship with him too much to ever say something. I'd rather an unrequited love, than to lose him over something simple like a crush. It ended up happening by pure coincidence that we attended the same college, but it worked out really well for me. I'm more of an introvert, while Felix is the extrovert who makes all of our friends, and that's more or less what happened.

Most of that isn't really important though, to be honest, except that I still have the biggest crush on Felix, six years later. He and the rest of our friend group, affectionately called "Stray Kids" for some reason or another, are the campus hotties. Which means I get to see girls upon girls try and shoot their shot with all of them, and for most of the boys, I don't give a shit who they date. I however get way too envious sometimes of the girls I see hanging around my best friend. Chan, the eldest of the friends, was sitting with me while we watched the boys have fun. 

"Are you ever going to say something to him? About your crush on him?" He questioned me. I turned to him like he was crazy. We've had this conversation a million times, and it was never going to happen. 

"I've told you Chan, he'd never like me that way, and I'm never gonna jeopardize my friendship with him over a stupid crush." 

"You'll never find out if he likes you though, if you never say anything." He retorts.

"I don't wanna find out if he doesn't like me. Besides, there's a good chance I could mess things up between him and I, and I'm not taking that chance." I stood up, and moved to leave the table, grabbing my things as I said goodbye to Chan. I really didn't want to deal with the guys nagging me to finally ask him out, it just made it worse. I headed home, before having the stupid idea that I should go out and drink instead of staying home, but impulsive decisions are a thing I do a lot.

I know it's kind of a shitty reason to be out trying to get blackout drunk at a bar, but honestly I couldn't think of anything better to help me deal with the pain of not being able to tell Felix I like him. I was about four drinks in, and already on my way to being wasted when I felt a hand land on my shoulder. I look back, my vision already blurring to see Felix behind me. "Hiii Lixieeee!" I giggled, waving at him. He grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the bar, while I took my drink with me. 

"Lixie, where are you taking me? I was having a good time at the bar~" I pouted at him, my words slightly slurring. He stopped suddenly and turned to face me, leaning down to cup my face in his hands. 

"Why are you out drinking? This isn't like you." He asked me, looking concerned. 

"Why are you so concerned, Lixie? I'm just having some fun and letting loose a bit. Aren't I allowed to have fun?" I shoot back at him, some frustration coming out in the process. I chug down the rest of whatever was in my glass, feeling the burn as it made its way down my throat. Felix reached to take the glass and put it somewhere out of my eyesight.

"Chan told me where you were. He was out with a couple of the other boys and they saw you here by yourself. You never go out to bars, why are you even here? If you wanted to drink, I would have brought over stuff, and we could've had fun at your apartment. Why are you doing this? Tell me, please?" He questioned me, begging me to answer him. 

I assume it was my lack of self control, but I blurted out, almost angrily at him, "I'm in love with you, okay! I've been in love with your cute face for the last six years, and I can't bear seeing you with other people. I want your eyes on me and only me. And I was never going to tell you because I didn't want to ruin our friendship." I couldn't bear to look at him after that. Felix went silent, and I started getting tears in my eyes, which started falling when the man started chuckling.

"You’re so adorable. I want to pick you up and never let you down." That made me look up at him in surprise. "Did you never think I wanted you too? I've wanted you so badly, wanted to call you mine. I was too scared that you wouldn't feel the same way. Oh baby, I think we've both been idiots for a little too long." He pulled me into a hug, resting his head on top of mine, before saying, "How about we head home now, yeah? We can talk about this more in the morning, when you're sober." I don't have it in me to do anything more than nod.

He takes me back to his car, opening the passenger door and helping me in, before going around to the driver's seat. He started the car and drove us the short ride to his apartment he shared with a couple of our friends. I was still a bit too intoxicated to walk by myself, so Felix assisted me up into his apartment, and then into his bedroom, having me sit down on his bed while he found clothes for me to wear. He set them out on the bed, pushing me to change into them while he went and found a spare toothbrush for me to use. By the time he returned, I had changed into the shirt he left me, but decided not to put on the shorts. He handed me the toothbrush, and since I had been here before, I knew my way to the bathroom. I quickly washed up, feeling a bit less wasted by the time I returned to his room. Felix was already waiting on his bed for me to get back, and ushered me into his bed and under the covers, while he laid down on top of them. 

I looked up at him, and softly asked, "Can you hold me while I fall asleep?" He nodded, blushing and moved under the covers with me, as I rested my head on his arm as his other one came around my waist. 

He softly kissed my cheek as he whispered, "Good night." It didn't take me long to fall asleep in his arms, feeling the happiest I had been in a while.

[oonajaeadira]

Nadie Espera un Milagro (No One Expects a Miracle)

Fandom: Narcos / Javier Peña

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Reader: Sassy, confident, American ex-pat female who finds her parents a little tedious and enjoys both her independence and her job as a high-level admin at the DEA. No physical descriptions, no use of y/n.

Rating: T

Warnings: era-”appropriate” behavior of men towards women in the workplace (but a lot better than it was, Steve and Javi are actually pretty respectful). Overbearing and slightly infantilizing parents. Author doesn’t know anything about politics or law enforcement.

Summary: When your parents come to visit you at your job in Bogotá, you figure it’s just easier to paint a picture that will put them at ease. The idea is simple. The plan is flawed. The execution is just fluff.

A/N: Written for my Year of Tropes (part of @yearofcreation2023​) Fake dating seemed like an easy trope for a busy month, which is why I chose it for February. (Whoops. Happy April!) With all of these tropes I like to challenge myself a little and I feel like the character choice alone for this one was challenge enough for me. Not only do I not know anything about politics and law enforcement, I haven’t written Javier much. And, of all the boys I do write, I feel like he’d be the least likely candidate to participate in and fall for fake dating, so I had to figure out how to make it believable for myself. Which is why there’s more plot than I intended and reader ended up with some backstory. This is season 2 Javi, obviously not canon, and maybe a bit too soft, so sue me for yearning. Yes, reader’s parents are cartoon versions of my own parents, why do you ask?

“Well hey there, sunshine,” a wisp of smoke accompanies Steve’s greeting as he leans back in his chair and crosses his long legs at the ankle to the side of his desk, leaning over momentarily to stub the cigarette out into a shared ashtray. “We don’t often get the pleasure of a visit–looks like you remember we exist.”

“Ha ha. I could say the same about you. Did you boys finally get your morals whipped into shape, or are you just over the thrill of making me break the law for you every other week?”

There’s a halt in the clack clack clack of Javier’s typewriter as he turns at the sound of your voice. Standing to reach across the desk, he scrubs out his own cigarette, makes a futile attempt to wave away the smoke, and watches you descend the stairs into their working arena. “Hey, Sully,” he smiles like a man not accustomed to it and rests his hands on the waistband of his ridiculously out-of-fashion jeans. “That’s a new dress.”

You flash him a grin and shake your head. “Stop. Don’t waste your flirting on me, Peña. You know I don’t need greasing.”

He only shifts his weight to one hip. There’s no response but a compliant tick of his jaw.

It’s second nature with Javier. He knows he’s good looking. Knows all he has to do is flash those puppy dogs and throw some attention, and ladies will give him anything he wants. You love it and hate it. Hate it because it’s insulting to be targeted for manipulation just because you’re a woman. But you love it because the man is Javier Peña and you’d be lying if you said those big brown eyes weren’t beautiful and you’re happy to have an excuse to have them pointed your way with warmth rather than the chill he reserves for the more bureaucratic workers. It’s a safe kind of crush, the kind you can play with as long as you never expect too much.

Javier’s been stopping by your office since before there was a Steve Murphy, buttering you up and asking for favors–access to a file here, a release stamp there–hell. You’ve expedited more requests on his behalf than all of the upper cabinet combined. And how many times have you distracted the clerk in tapes archives just so Javi could walk by and flash a request form without having it scrutinized for certification?

Every request starts the same, with his awkward little smile and an actual compliment. And every mission accomplished gains you a “Thanks, you’re a miracle worker.”

“Like Anne Sullivan?” you’d asked after the tenth or twentieth time.

“Huh?”

“Anne Sullivan. Hellen Keller’s teacher. The Miracle Worker.”

That caught him off guard. “Uh, yeah. Anne–?”

“Sullivan.”

“Right. I guess you’re an Anne Sullivan. I’d be lost in the dark without you.”

You’d allowed yourself to be charmed. “Careful there, Agent Peña, or you’re gonna make me rather fond of you.”

Nothing makes a grown man blush faster than to out-flirt the flirter. Not that it was hard with Javier. He was adorably miserable at it.

But it was always fun to watch him try…and to periodically beat him at his own game.

Once Steve landed in Colombia, you got two for the price of one. But Murphy knew you could see through his games and didn’t even try. It endeared you to him that he approached you sincerely. And you knew you could always do the same with him.

“As a matter of fact, it IS a new dress,” you chirp, twisting your shoulders one way and then the other, fluttering your lashes and fanning yourself with a hand in a mock display of coy preening. “My parents are flying in tonight and I’m taking them out to dinner.”

“I thought the trade conferences weren’t for a few days,” Steve frowns and shoots a concerned glance at his desk calendar.

“They’re not. But they’re coming through to spend some time with me and tour the city. Mixing business with pleasure. That’s…um…actually why I’m here. I need to cash in a favor.”

Javi chuckles as he settles back into his chair, throwing one heel and then the other onto the desktop. “Time to pay the piper. Name it.”

“Actually,” you cringe, turning to Steve, “I thought I’d ask Murphy here.”

Throwing a surprised but self-satisfied grin over at his partner, Steve puffs out his chest. “Well I guess I can be the hero for the day. Anything you need, sunshine.”

Thankfully Javi seems to feel the need to show he’s not offended and returns to his typewriter to peck out his report. Good. This is an embarrassing enough ask. You don’t really need witnesses to this.

“So, this is going to sound like a big deal but it’s really not. My relationship with my folks is just…complicated,” you assure him, priming the agent for the stupidest thing you’re ever going to ask for in your life. “It would make my and everyone’s life easier if I was seeing someone? Because then my mother wouldn’t bring it up and pressure me and irritate my father, and he wouldn’t worry about me here so much thinking I’m a woman all alone…it’s just…it’s…,” you sigh, irritated. “This is so dumb.”

Clackety clack clack ding whirr. You look up to see Steve gaping at you.

“Are you asking me to pose as your boyfriend?”

Silence. You’re sure if you turned to look over your shoulder, you’d see a frozen Javier, two fingers of each hand hanging above his typewriter like a little T-Rex.

Oh for a trapdoor or hand of god…. Suck it up. They owe you.

“Yup.”

“Uh….”

You expected this. “I’m not asking you to make a show or….they’re coming in tomorrow and I thought if you were here you could just meet them for a second. And if you’re not, I could just point to your desk–”

“Doll,” Steve releases a confused laugh, “I’m married, you know.”

“Yeah, but Connie’s not here. Like I said, they won’t delve. If I just point at a man, they’ll accept it and leave it alone.”

“So you’re going to lie to your parents.”

A confident nod is your first response. “Absolutely. And if you’d met them–when you meet them–you’ll understand why that’s best. Or you won’t. You really won’t get to talk to them long enough to find out. Just give a couple of handshakes, be nice and I’ll move them along. It’s that easy.”

Gritting his teeth, Steve gives a disbelieving shake of the head. “I dunno. I mean, the ruse won’t stand if they mention my name to anyone. Why me? Why not that new guy in the mail room who’s been watching you walk away?”

“Jimmy?” you scoff. “Yeah, no, not my type.”

“Really. Dark hair and pretty blue eyes and a six-pack he doesn’t mind showing off isn’t your type?”

“Wellllll, when you put it that way…sure he’s not your type?” Now it’s Javi’s turn to huff a silent laugh and you give him a conspiratorial smile before rounding back on Steve. “He’s dull, Murphy. My parents know me well enough that I’m not going to go for dull. So take that as a compliment. And he’s a bedpost-notcher. I don’t want to encourage that kind of behavior. I may be lacking in male companionship but I’m not that lonely. Yet.”

Your no-nonsense, shut-em-down tone quiets both of them and for a moment you think you’ve won. But his response makes it obvious you’re going to have to cash in all your chips.

“Still. There are enough single guys around here–”

“Because,” with one hand on the corner of his desk you lean in to conspire even though his partner is three feet away and can obviously hear you, “most of them are a bunch of lazy sit-abouts and you’re always out and busy. It not only paints a good picture, it’s the perfect excuse not to join us for dinner because my mother will do her best to insist. And,” you wheedle, lowering your voice further, “because you owe me.”

“I would counter that I owe you a lot more than he does.” Javi keeps his voice at a stage whisper in mockery of your own and shrugs as you and Steve swivel your gaze to him. “What.”

“Lying to the Assistant Trade Rep of the Western Hemisphere about intimate relations with his daughter sounds like a good time to you? You can have it.” Steve taps your shoulder before pointing at his partner. “He’s not hitched. Why not Javi?”

Rolling your eyes, you stall for time as you try to find a better answer than the truth, but when one doesn’t come, a sigh paves the way. “Because you dress more respectable than he does–”

“Hey.”

“--and my mother is judgy!,” your heartfelt insisting pushes through, doing your best to placate Javi–handsome Javi–who really does know how to keep the last decade’s fashion in fashion. “Javi, you’re lovely and you look good and I don’t want you to change. But my mother is going to take you for a ladies man, which you are, you know you are, and she’s going to pick apart your choices with wanton disapproval which is almost more unbearable for me than not being attached to anyone at all because then I’ll spend hours defending you for nothing–”

Steve and Javi finally break and their sudden laughter shuts you down. It’s all you can do not to give both of them the finger and a good ol’ fuck off.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve says through his trailing amusement, taking his turn now to placate. “Fine. We’ll make ourselves scarce and you can use the imprint of my ass in this chair as proof of warm-blooded human male. But maybe a false name, yeah? Like…Peter or…Harvey or something.”

“Harvey?” Javi scoffs. “How about Dick. Dick Bob Jones.”

“That sounds like a hillbilly name.”

“Yep.” ________

According to your mother, your apartment is “charming,” the streets of Bogotá are “interesting,” and the department headquarters are “surprisingly up to date.” In the car on the way to the office, you managed to dodge most of her questions about your personal life, dropping one-word answers before pointing out the window and explaining certain buildings or neighborhoods.

As promised, Agents Murphy and Peña are out in the field when you walk your parents past their desks on your way through to your own department. “Well,” you wave with half commitment at it and move on, “looks like he’s out doing his job and catching those bad guys. Too bad. Maybe next time.”

The crisis is momentarily averted, but while your father ducks into a nearby restroom, your mother can’t seem to let the matter pass.

“So what does he do then? He’s a cop?”

“I told you. He’s a DEA agent. He’s on the team trying to stop the drug trade from reaching the States. Have you heard of Pablo Escobar?”

She scoffs and looks past you. “Everybody has heard of Pablo Escobar, dear. That naughty man. Oh. Oh! Is that him?”

“Hmm? Escobar?” Following her gaze and turning to look back into the atrium, you’re gifted the sight of tight jeans stretching over a familiar backside and tanned arms yanking open drawers on Steve’s desk, obviously looking for something. “No, Mom, that’s just–”

But before you can correct her, she’s striding over in her Prada heels, ruffled blouse bouncing and pearls clicking, reaching forward into an eager handshake as she interrupts the very visibly hurried agent. “It’s so nice to meet you!” she chirps. “You must be Harvey!”

“Mother–!”

Javi stops digging, having found the warrant he was looking for, looking up in surprise at this forward, fussy, American woman, his lower lip hanging in a soft V, before taking her hand courteously and introducing himself, “Javi.”

“Oh, I knew I was right! The minute I saw you I knew you had to be her Harvey, you’re certainly her type.” Her hospitable countenance flickers only for a second as she takes in his tight shirt. “She says you’re quite the cop.”

“Mom, Javi’s a government agent and–” As you catch up to her, the momentary confusion on Javi’s face melts into understanding spiced with just a hint of amusement. “--and, as you can see, he’s in a hurry so–”

“It’s okay,” he beams, continuing to shake your mother’s hand. “I can take a minute to meet the woman who raised mi milagra.”

What.

Something in your brain hits the panic button and your mother chatters on to him as your backup generators whir into gear. He gives her his full attention, smiling as she babbles about how proud she and your father are of you and how nice it is that you’ve found someone to spend time with and…did he just say–

“We’ve got a lead on a collaborator and I was just ducking in to grab some paperwork,” he explains, waving the warrant in one hand. But his other hand– “What a lucky coincidence” –dips behind you– “that you happened to stop by,” –slides across your back– “because my girl here has told me so much about you,” –settles on your hip– “ma’am,” –and pulls you flush to his side.

It’s a smirk. A smirk that he has the brazen balls to grace you with then, and it’s hard to tell if he’s fucking with you or if he’s just really enjoying being your hero and sharing a joke that only the two of you know about.

And it’s equally hard to tell if you’re about to laugh or swear or….melt… he’s holding you so tightly and he smells like cigarettes and his surprisingly light cologne… his shirt is damp, your blouse is damp, it’s a humid day and you’re sticking together a bit and he wears such fitted clothes and one of his few buttons is strained enough to give you a peek at his smooth chest beneath…

“Well, if you have to go, Harvey, I don’t want to distract you from your work, but my husband is using the facilities and he’ll be sorry to have missed you. Will you be working all evening? Why don’t you come join us for dinner! You know how well my daughter cooks and she’s making her carbonara for us–”

“Mom–”

“Your carbonara?” Javi questions you before turning back to your mother and squeezing you tighter against himself, causing you to stumble closer. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Her delight is evident. “Oh wonderful!”

“If you’ll excuse me though, my partner’s waiting. I’ll see you tonight, honeybunny.”

The world tingles a moment as a mustache and warm lips bush your temple and then you’re watching broad shoulders and slim hips swagger away from you and up the stairs.

Honey…bunny? Honeybun–

Fuck.

“Javi! Wait!” You hold up a hand as you pass your mother. “Stay here for a second, I have to…I forgot to tell him… uh…”

He stops at the top of the stairs, leaning in, anticipating your quiet brand of ire. “Your mom’s sweet.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“What. Seems to be going well, I mean, apparently, I am your type, so it all works out. I think that performance down there earned me a dinner. I fucking love a good carbonarra.” The glare you serve him loses its bite under his soft smile lacking in any sarcasm or hazing. This is the Javi you know, the conspirator that finds you working late at night and is grateful for your help in the file room or in the microfiche lab, the one that noticed yesterday that your dress was new. Doing you a favor. What else would you expect? “If you want, I’ll wear baggier pants.”

“No, just…” you sigh. “I should give you my address–”

There’s a thing he does with his smile, something that gets you every time, a little jaw tick that comes with a quick downward bounce of the eyes and a single shake of the head. “Don’t need it. I know.”

“Okay, but…. Wait. What?” You call after him as he trots toward the door.

“I’ll come hungry!” _____

“Sir,” Javi bobs his head in reverence as he meets your father’s handshake. It’s above and beyond your requests, as is the cleanup of the five-o-clock shadow, the change to his black button up shirt, and his showing up on time. And in true commitment to the bit, he didn’t even knock, just came in and found his way to the dining area like he spends most of his time in your apartment.

“Good to meet you, Javi.”

“Dear,” your mother chirps from her watchful eye at your shoulder by the stove, “it’s Harvey.” She doubts herself. “It is Harvey, isn’t it?”

Completely disregarding your mother’s interjection, your dad gestures to a spot across from him at your modest dining table set for four and offers him a packet. “Sit down, sit down, agent. Smoke?”

“Ah,” Javi falters, and when you turn your head to your shoulder, you catch him checking in with you out of the corner of your eye. “She…doesn’t let me light up in here.”

“No? Heh. Well. I don’t know how she does it but it’s always been her way or no way. I see she’s worked her magic on you.”

“That’s for sure.”

You can’t help but smile as you give the noodles another good swirl in the pot and set the spoon on the counter. That little display just earned him a treat. Pulling out two glasses from the cabinet, you give a generous pour of the whiskey you picked up on the way home especially for him and bring them over to the table without a word for the two men.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” hums your father.

Javi glances at the glass, then up at you and your cocked eyebrow that queries him don’t I get a ‘thank you sweetheart’ from you too?

But oh, he came to play.

Ignoring the glass and taking your hand, his thumb skips across your knuckles. “You need any help, hon?”

There’s a microsecond between you where laughter is very very possible. The game is on. So you up the stakes by pushing a little curl of black hair behind his ear before trailing your fingers down to pinch his chin. “No, baby. You just relax and enjoy yourself.”

The smallest flush of pink and flash of panic that you catch on him as you turn away (only because you’re looking for it) tells you that you’ve won this round.

Back at the stove, your mother’s taken over, having drained the noodles and now attempting to pour the sauce into the noodle pot rather than your tried-and-true method of bringing the pasta to the sauce pan.

“Mom! Could you not–”

You see it coming a second too late, the sauce hasn’t thickened properly and a good portion of it misses the pot and splashes onto her blouse.

There’s commotion, a shriek and an overreaction, and you reach for a towel to catch the sauce before it stains, but the towel is dirty with spills and bacon grease and you’re both trying to keep the sauce pot from toppling off the stove. “Just…hold still, Mom, here…let me get a clean towel–”

“I’m on it,” Javi jumps up, heading down the hallway.

Great. Here’s another thing splitting your attention from timing the sauce. “Javi??” you call, “The towels are–”

“I know! The cabinet behind the door!”

How did he….doesn’t matter. The woman who raised you is in need of someone to mother her at the moment and you’re doing your best to calm her down before she causes even more of a mess. In a matter of moments, your stand-in man is back with a hand towel and you join her at the sink to help her dab it off.

“Oh, well this is just dandy,” she whines. “Now I have to sit here in a wet blouse in nice company…”

“It’s fine, Mom. You can wear one of mine.”

“The pink one or the blue? She can change in the bedroom,” Javi gestures, offering to show the way. “Ma’am?”

“Uh…the…blue….” This time you don’t have time to veil your shocked and confused expression. If Javi truly notices it as your mom swans by him, he doesn’t let on.

The rest of the evening is uneventful and pleasant, your father and Javi carrying most of the conversation as the older man drills the agent on the particulars of the cartels and Escobar’s influence with his communities, how it’s affecting customs and trade, and what that means for the conference your father is here to attend in his duty to the Trade Rep.

After a couple of hours, he makes it known that it’s time to get back to the hotel, that he has an early morning as his boss is flying in.

“Already? Dear! You boys spent all this time talking shop and I have all kinds of questions for Haaavi.”

“Well, my bride, you’re just going to have to wait to satisfy your curiosity. I’m sure it will keep.”

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?” Javi asks just as you take a sip of water and try your best not to choke on it. “If you’d like to try some of the local specialties, I know a place not far from here. Sancocho to die for, made fresh every day.”

The fire in your eyes is shielded, soft, but directed straight at the side of his face, hot enough that he can surely see it from his periphery if not feel the flames. The corner of his mustache rises the smallest fraction of an inch.

“That sounds a real treat, son,” your father says, rising and crushing Javi’s shoulder in a squeeze. “Tomorrow night then.”

Javi joins you at the front window when they leave so you can wave them off, having the balls to wrap his arm around your shoulder as you do. Once their car pulls away into the night though, he retracts it and ambles back to the table, gathering up a few stray plates and taking them to the sink. “Well, that went well.”

When you don’t answer, he turns to find you with a level expression and your arms folded across your chest. “What was that?”

He has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“We are going to address tomorrow night in a minute, but I’d love for you to explain to me why you know the location and the layout of my apartment, Agent Peña.”

Now he catches up, nodding slowly and returning to you at the window. With one hand on a hip and the other pointing to the nearest streetcorner, he explains, “Did you see that car that pulled out of there after your parents? Security. I sat in a car in that exact spot for three weeks after you were appointed to the agency. Couple days while you were at work,” he waves a hand, gesturing to the apartment as a whole, “I spent quite a few hours in here on a deep scan for taps.”

Now it’s your turn to carry the surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Standard procedure for government employees to be shadowed for a probationary period, eliminates the suspicion of inside involvement. You got a deluxe security detail treatment on top of it because…well. Your…family’s connection to Washington.”

He’s kind enough to wait for you to process this. “Wait. You mean,” peering outside at the location he indicated, noting the straight-line view into your living room, “you watched me? For three weeks???”

He turns back in search of his glass. “You dance when you’re happy. You could stand to be happy more often.” Giving you the time it takes for him to pour another finger of whiskey to stew over this, to grind through the gears of your mind and work out if you might have done anything embarrassing under the gaze of the DEA, he finally assures you, “Don’t sweat it. You’re usually a stickler for keeping your curtains closed. It was about as uneventful as a watch is possible to be.”

“So this is what they pay their agents to do? Babysit a government employee’s daughter? That seems below your pay grade.”

He downs the drink and shrugs. “I was lower on the pole back then.”

“Not that low.” But then…. The jaw tick presents itself again. His lack of eye contact confirms a sudden suspicion. “My…father paid for it.”

His nod hangs silent and sorry between you.

Independence. That’s why you took this job. Something you thought you could do on your own without your father’s help, run away from America, go live abroad and work somewhere new, somewhere exotic. How naive to think–for three years now–that you’ve done all this on your own.

The embarrassment burns.

Javi slowly runs a finger over a plate, raising a dollop of sauce to his tongue. “This is good. You’re a hell of a cook, Sully.”

It’s meant to lift your spirits, make you feel accomplished at something in your life. It’s appreciated.

“Thanks. It’s not that complicated.” Moving past him into the kitchen, you pick up your tongs from the counter and quietly start heaping half of the leftover meal into a bowl. “What’s this place you’re taking us to tomorrow? You’ve seen what a holy terror my mom is about food.”

He comes to lean against the refrigerator. “Dos Rosas Cocina.”

“I know it. Good choice. Atmosphere’s… rustic, but the food’s amazing.” Tying the bowl up in a clean towel and placing it in his hands, you sigh, all the stupid, terrible tension you didn’t know you were holding this evening seeping its way out. “I can’t believe you’re electing to spend more time on this little act.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t remember thanking you, but thank you.”

“What’s this?”

“Leftovers. Lunch. Enjoy.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“You’d better.”

Later, after the dishes are done and the leftovers stowed, you curl up on the couch with the novel you’re battling your way through. But not a single page is turned. An hour goes by as you think through the interviews and steps you took to get this job, to land your working visa, to find this apartment in a nice part of town, how easy it had all seemed at the time, how accomplished you’d felt. And then there was that little look of realization and regret in Javi’s eye. That he knew. That he was the one that slipped and let you figure it out, that he never told you before. That nobody told you before. Had you come off as stupid in that moment? Innocent? Naive?

You need to confront your father about it. Probably not tomorrow, not in front of Javi. But soon.

Dammit.

You’re not getting any reading done so you turn off the light and head to bed.

Your pajamas are folded and the bed’s been meticulously remade.

Of course.

No wonder it took longer than it should have for your mother to change her blouse.

How is it you get to be a grown ass adult and your parents will never see you as anything but their little girl, even at this age?

________

“Soooooo, how’d you two meeeeet?”

Having arrived early at Dos Rosas Cocina, Javi already has a drink in him, so your mother’s question earns a contented smile. “Well–”

“At work, Mom. Obviously at work.”

It’s not a lie. It was at your desk. He needed something notarized and your new stamp hadn’t arrived yet so he wrote his direct extension on your desk pad, asked you to ring him when it did. You remember thinking that his eyes wandered too much but couldn’t be mad when you realized yours must have too if your first impression was that his pants were a good fit.

Later that night you’d come here, to the Cocina, charmed by its walls lined with picture frames full of the owner’s ancestors and descendants, how it seemed to be the center of time itself reaching backward in it’s colorful mountain-style decor and forward in its state of the art cashier’s computer and cd jukebox.

The owner had served your meal himself and sat down to chat with you, to practice his English, he said. It was a slow night and you had nowhere to be and he put you at ease right away.

“Dos Rosas,” he explained, “it means two roses. You see the sign? One red, one white. You know what it means?”

You shook your head and smiled, mouth full of some heavenly empanada.

“The red rose is for love. The white rose for friendship. Dos Rosas is a place my father made where he wanted guests to come with love and friendship.” And then he produced a single white rose, slipping it into the vase on the table. “For your luck. You are welcome here, friend. Someday you will bring someone who will share a red one with you, si?”

It had been a favorite place ever since.

Javier had been there that night too, now that you remember it. Sitting in the dim corner away from the basket lamps, nursing a beer and a plate of arepas, the curtain of his cigarette smoke nearly hiding him from view. Back then he was just the agent who needed some papers stamped and who just happened to be at the same restaurant that night.

Hindsight and new information reframes the nearly-forgotten memory now. Of course. He must have been tailing you then.

“I think,” Javi says as he drapes an arm across the back of your cane chair and leans in, “she understands where, milagra. But what she wants to know is that I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

Your response comes with a sweet smile that hides a challenge. “I know. You watched me for three weeks straight.”

“And then some.” He doesn’t let your jab throw him off the act. “And then there were the times I had to get into the file room for nothing in particular, just a reason to come down and talk to her.”  On the contrary, he hooks a foot around the leg of your chair and yanks it closer to his own, effectively throwing you against his chest. “She used to laugh at my flirting; made fun of me, thought I wasn’t serious.”

The clench of your stomach, the cold wave of your blood pressure dropping, every method your body has to signal and react to danger begins to take over as Javi keeps you locked from pulling away with one arm, hazy smile inches from your face, his  heavy-lidded gaze dropping to your mouth.

A warm hand folds gently over one of your own, floating it upward, his fingertips guiding your palm until he ducks his head half an inch to meet your knuckles to his lips. Big brown eyes beg at you and that cold wave rebounds now as a hot tsunami.

And all you can do is stare, stare at this display of tenderness that seems so very unlike the Javier Peña you know. Gone is the indifferent agent, the shielded ego, the preference for solitary. As his kiss lingers on your hand just a second longer than necessary, you get a glimpse behind the curtain to the man beyond. For one moment you witness a vulnerability and care, a fleeting tease of what it must be like to have his perfect attention, his devotion. It’s literally breathtaking.

And then something in him stalls, shifts, as if he notices the same in you.

Is he going to kiss you? Should you kiss him? Right here in front of your mother? Why is he so warm? What is that amazing cologne? Is his shirt unbuttoned further than usual? Is that a cymbal roll in the music coming from the jukebox or is that your blood rushing in your ears? Does he always breathe this forcibly? How have you never noticed that little crease in his bottom lip or realized just how dark his eyes were?

Just as his tongue flicks forth to wet his lips, your father returns from the phone booth in the back.

“Well, false alarm. Seems the ambassador just had some bad fish, but it’s passing. Conference is still on.”

Oblivious to your predicament and drawing your mother’s attention, he’s happy to answer her questions regarding the type of fish and how long it was prepared, and she offers her wisdom to nobody in particular as to preventing such a thing as food poisoning. Neither of them notice as you slowly twist yourself out of Javi’s loosening clutches and both of them obviously assume your hasty retreat has more to do with wanting to powder your nose than calm your racing heart.

The restroom is one small room, looking like a much older sibling to the restaurant itself as if it had been built first and the rest of the building added later. You count fifteen cracks in the wall over the solitary, rust-stained toilet before a knock falls on the door, momentarily spiking your softening anxiety. It’s an old man’s voice enquiring in Spanish if you’d fallen in.

You’re far from convinced that you’re ready to face or deny whatever’s going on in your heart. But you wash your hands–one of them still stubbornly holding the tingle of Javi’s lips and mustache against it–surrender the room, and find your way back to the table where the man who is not your boyfriend leans forward on his elbows, spinning stories for your parents.

“But we’re zeroing in on him now. He’s made more than a few mistakes and we’ve just barely caught them by turning around at the right second. It’s only a matter of time.”

A smile pulls wide over your father’s face as he leans back in his chair. “That’s what I like to hear. Damn, son. I admire your tenacity. We’re lucky we have talented young men like you down here catching the bad guys.”

“And we’re also lucky to have you here looking after our daughter,” your mother helps.

“Thanks, Mom, I can take care of myself. I mean, that is,” To one side, you feel Javi’s focus tilt your way, “as long as Dad’s willing to pay for it, I guess.”

Silence blankets the table as the waiter sets down four bowls of sancocho, a plate of flatbread, a candle, and a red rose in a vase in front of you all before hastily retreating.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Staring at the rose and trying to sort out your thoughts, you’re not sure why you chose this moment to bring up the subject. Maybe your body is just in fight or flight mode and perhaps you’re diverting your fluster to this deep-seated frustration. Something is shaking the cage of your heart and wants out, wants to cause some damage–

–but Javi’s hand comes to a gentle rest on your knee, soothing whatever savage beast had awakened, somehow turning frustration and fear into calm strength instead.

“I know about the money, Dad. I appreciate the help, I really do. But it’s okay. You don’t have to pay anyone to babysit me and pull strings just to make my life easier here. I came to Colombia to challenge myself. I can’t do that if you’re sneaking in and slapping training wheels on me all the time.”

For a split second it looks as if he’s going to deny it, play dumb. Instead, he softens.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ll have to forgive me. Your mother and I can’t help but look out for you. It’s what we’ve done all your life. It’s a hard habit to break.”

The confirmation stings, but you can’t deny that you set yourself up for it. “Did you do the same for Kennie?”

“Your sister has a husband and a family. She doesn’t need us to look after her anymore.”

A frustration wells up inside, burning, humiliating, full of futility. It doesn’t matter what you accomplish, how many times you have to prove yourself, they’re just not going to change. They’re never going to overcome what their generation has held as truth all their lives, even past the recent wave of feminism and push for equality. They’ll never ever see you as complete unless there’s a man involved. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.

And perhaps that’s the conclusion that makes Javi’s actions feel like the only heroic course as he rubs a side hand over your back and explains, “Sir, you don’t have to worry about her. She’s capable. Thriving. She’s in no danger here. If there were any threat at all, she could hold her own. And even so, I’d do my best to make sure trouble never came near her.”

“Oh, Haaavi. You’re so good to her. She’s so lucky to have you.”

With a defensive flick of a hand, he continues. “It’s not luck, ma’am. And it’s not goodness. It’s simply part of my job. Even if she was nothing to me but another clerk that’s too smart and too bold for her position, I’m an agent first. As a U.S. citizen and employee of the DEA, I’m going to put her life before my own. With all due respect–and I’m sorry to be so blunt–but to doubt that she or any American isn’t safe here is an insult to Colombia, to me, and all government agents on a professional level.”

The hard drag of conviction in his tone. The realization on your parents’ faces. The understanding sinking in. The steadying warmth of his arm around you.

“But she doesn’t need me. She doesn’t need anyone. Most self-sufficient and confident woman I’ve ever known. I’m the lucky one; lucky she’s bored enough to keep me around. Must be for entertainment.”

Wow.

And all at once, you regret that you hadn’t taken the chance to kiss Agent Javier Peña. ________

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a ride back to her apartment, son? It’ll be faster.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’d like to walk her home.”

Javi takes your hand in his, waving at your parents with the other, and quietly pulls you away from the car window down the dark street toward your place.

Half a minute later he’s still silent. And still holding your hand.

It feels awkward not to let go. And yet rude to do so. So you find a middle ground and squeeze instead, “Thank you. For that. Back there. I hate that I have no power to convince them of my autonomy on my own, but I think they just needed to hear it from…”

Who? A man? A government employee? A “cop”? A workaholic who is cranky most of the time because he disregards his own health and safety and refuses to sleep in his never-ending quest to quash every last cokeslinger within a thousand-mile area?

His nod and squeeze in return says he knows. “You know it’s love, right?”

Your heart trips over his words. “What?”

“Your parents love you. Doesn’t matter how old you get. Doesn’t matter how far you run. Doesn’t matter how long the flight is and how repulsive they find the local guaro, they’re gonna love you.”

In the shared laughter that follows, your hands naturally part and you double over, remembering the look on your mother’s face after tasting the aniseed liquor Javi ordered for her.

“It was so beautiful!” you crow. “She tried so hard to smile and be polite…and the tears! You could almost see the fumes pushing out of her tear ducts!!!”

“It broke my heart to do it to her, but she insisted I order for her–!”

It’s not often you see Javi laugh and smile–really smile–with unrestrained joy. Playful smirks, weary grins, the occasional shy blush perhaps, yes. But it’s not until this moment that you see him genuinely happy. It takes years off him, as if he’s shed responsibility like a coat and gone skinny-dipping into life for a minute. His eyes crinkle deeply when he truly smiles, they shine and sparkle. Like stars on this dim street.

The giggles and chuckles continue as you near your block and it’s in a resurgence of his that he casually just reaches out and takes your hand again, as if dropping it had been a little mistake that needed correcting.

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so awkward. It should be, but it’s not. It’s like you both decided it doesn’t have to be and yet, it doesn’t have to mean anything either. If anything, a shared happiness. A familiarity.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

“Hmm?” His attention is slowly returning to the street, constantly scanning, every second a chance to gather information, find the next piece of the druglord puzzle.

“This. Being the perfect boyfriend. Having someone’s parents just think the god’s ass of you for once. Playacting chivalry.”

That last bit sobers him. “Yeah, well, at least I can put on a good show.”

There’s something in the response that rings…tired. You’ve hit on some old hurt, some buried regret. Knowing Javi, addressing it would only cause him to close off and dig it in deeper.

“Well, I’m enjoying it. I feel like I’m getting good value for all of the favors I’ve done for you and prettyboy Murphy. You’re good at this. A girl could get used to it. That story you told my mother about how we met? Let nobody tell you that you don’t go above and beyond in every way, Agent Peña.”

You can’t see the little grin that pulls at the far corner of his mouth, but you know it’s there. An eyebrow cocks. “So you’re saying my tab’s clear? I can put in a new order to the miracle worker?”

“Order up,” you laugh. “After all, now that I know Dad’s pulling strings, who’s gonna fire me? Bring your worst shenanigans!”

It doesn’t have quite the reaction you expect from him and he stops just short of the steps to your apartment building, deep grooves forming between his brows. “You know, it’s not unusual; landing any job has a lot to do with who you know. Keeping it is the part that’s all you. Even if you didn’t get it on your own, you still made it your own.” When you can’t seem to meet his eyes, his tone softens. “You’ve got a lot to be proud of here. Why did you feel like you had to perfect some image of your life by toting me around?”

Flustered, you scoff and jump at the chance to dodge the question. “I’ll have you remember that I asked Steve, not you. You’re the one that jumped at a free meal.” It doesn’t work. His stance demands an honest answer, his face says it’s required more for your sake than his. “It’s… a long story. There are checkboxes in my family… my sister got married and had kids and I never did. I never really felt it was important… or that anyone would put up with my attitude. i’m not exactly the picture of perfect wife material. I mean, of course I’d like to find someone someday, but it’s never been the main goal… but my parents–”

“I couldn’t do it,” he says. Not an agreement; an admission. Simple. “I walked away from the altar. Left her standing. It just felt like there was a responsibility there to be ‘the husband’, and–like you said, same thing–check off the boxes. I didn’t know if I could check off the same ones everyone else thought were necessary.”

It takes a moment to say anything. To move past the fact that he’s just confided a piece of his past and his personal life to you. That he’s let you in. It explains a little about why he doesn’t get close to anyone, why he prefers feminine relations without hangups. Which makes this admission very weighted and precious. You see that he trusts you not to judge. And perhaps it’s his way of letting you know that you’re not alone in dodging the tried-and-true life path.

“Everyone had expectations. You thought you couldn’t be a good husband. So you ran away to join the DEA because you knew you could do that spectacularly.”

Now it’s him that can’t look at you. “I wouldn’t say that I’m doing that well–”

“Javi.” That catches his eye. “You’re a damn good agent. I know you’re going to get the job done. Why the hell do you think I’ll jump at the chance to break every rule in the goddamn department to help you do it? Like I said. Who’s gonna fire me now if I do?” Something shifts in him, like he’s been slapped or sharply woken. As if it’s something he’s been needing to hear and didn’t have the right person to tell him. You’re suddenly honored to be that for him. He needs it. And so you gift him a little more. “Obviously you don’t have to do everything by the book to be good at something. Look at the past couple of days. Thank you for being nice to my folks. And for the encouragement. That’s all it takes sometimes, you know? You’ve been a damn good stand-in boyfriend. Your little stunts included, you asshole. That’s what made it fun. I’m sure you would have been a great husband.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it with a tick of his jaw. Regrouping, he gives you a pained look to say, “I’m sorry that you feel you were lied to…with the surveillance and all. And that’s how you found out. I meant what I said back there, Sully.” He swallows. “All of it.”

It’s so serious and vulnerable, an obvious effort for him to say. He’s a good man, Javi. You’ve read the reports. You’ve heard the rumors. He may keep others from getting too close, may come off as flippant and impatient or pour his focus into his work. But his moral center is pointed in the right direction and he’s the first person to discard his own needs in favor of someone else.

It’s probably what overwhelms him–caring about others but not allowing anyone to care for him–bubbles up so far that he has to visit his girls to vent it. He says they’re his informants, everyone’s heard that, but nobody buys that’s all it is. He needs to be cared for, but the money keeps him safe, keeps the lines drawn. It’s an exchange he can allow himself to make.

Something about that suddenly twists your heart. You could ask him in. You could take care of him. It’s tempting. It’s what he needs.

But you’re not sure if the inevitable fallout and distancing is what you need right now. It would be too easy to want him to stay.

It’s fine to fall in love just a little with Javier Peña, as long as you don’t expect too much.

Instead, you squeeze his hand. Big and warm and gun-callused. “I know you did. Good night, hero. Thank you.”

He lets you go, this transaction settled. Doesn’t ask anything more. As you expected. The perfect gentleman. When he puts his mind to it.

________

You’ve lost count of your yawns.

Even though you brought leftover carbonara for lunch the following day, you need to escape. There’s twice as much work with the ambassador’s conferences, more calls coming through and the agents and policia all have their regular requests. And you didn’t sleep soundly the night before; something whining at the back of your mind, like something forgotten or missed… Every form and file feels like an effort and you’re just so out of it. If your mother were to stop by and take you out to lunch–a real possibility–that would just be too much.

Half an hour in the outdoor cafeteria should help, even if it’s another hot day. Air and sunshine are usually good revitalizers. And you can hide in the crowd.

Or so you thought. Just as you’re settling in with a bowl of rice and veggies, a long shadow falls across your bench and you look up to see broad shoulders and dark hair.

But the eyes you meet are blue.

“Hi, Jimmy.”

“Well hey there. Mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for an answer he perches on the bench next to you with his sandwich and starts talking. About nothing. About the heat. How it’s hot here, how it was hot back home in Arizona but nothing like the hot here. Humidity. Dry heat. Sweat. How he once baked a cookie on the dash of a car parked in the sun. How he never understood the calculations between fahrenheit and celsius, just that one is higher and one lower. Something about mercury in thermometers.

You stop listening after a minute and just chew and smile and nod. You’re not that lonely. Yet.

There’s a little old man who sells flowers from a bucket, sets up a little stall on the sidewalk across the other end of the courtyard. He’s out here most days. He’s out here today. Carnations, chrysanthemums, birds of paradise, roses…

You should get some flowers for your desk. Something nice. Might wake you up a little. You watch absently as the flower man speaks to someone in a tan shirt. A man with dark hair like so many others here. He looks like Javi from the back.

You’d rather not think about Javi’s back. Or front. Or deep brown eyes.

So you listen to Jimmy ramble for a while before he finally asks you a question.

“Don’t you think it’s hot?”

“Yeah, Jimmy. It’s hot.” _______

“I’ll take one red and one white, por favor.”

The little old flower man’s smile is even warmer up close.

On your way back into the office you muse that you’ll put the roses in a vase and let them decide for you, depending on which one lasts longer. Do you really feel the need to entertain the possibility of infatuation? Or can you be content with the easy friendship you have?

But upon arriving at your desk, you find that your little bouquet will be unbalanced and one of the two choices will have twice the advantage.

There’s already a red rose laying on the credenza.

Next to a bowl that held carbonara leftovers when last you saw it.

And a note. Fast scratches on a torn piece of yellow steno paper. Probably from the ripped piece on your desk. Next to your pen.

“I meant all of it, Sully.”

Suddenly the clack of keyboards and whine of printers and ring of phones fades away. You lift the little note to read it again. “All of it.” As if the words aren’t enough, as if you need more empirical evidence–or maybe because it was with the flower–for some odd reason you bring it close to your nose only to confirm what you knew you’d smell there.

Rose. And cigarettes.

All of it? That’s the last thing he said last night. I meant what I said back there, Sully. All of it.

It had been a heartening thing to hear, reinforcing how he would protect and serve, how he thought you were competent and confident, but why remind you now–

Oh.

Oh. Not just that part.

All of it.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. And then there were the times I had to get into the file room for nothing in particular, just a reason to come down and talk to her. She used to laugh at my flirting; made fun of me, thought I wasn’t serious.”

Suddenly you understand what was keeping you awake last night.

The look on his face as he stood by your steps. The way he rethought the words before he spoke. It wasn’t easy for him. He tried to tell you and you just…

All of it.

You just thanked him and walked away.

He’s been…this whole time…he’s…

“Darling?”

Yanked from one confusion to another, you turn to find your mother rounding your desk–even though you told her not to, that only government officials are supposed to be around your files–coming to take your hand.

“Your father and I are going on a tour of the city with the Representative. I dropped by to see if you’d like to join us.”

“Hi Mom. No… no, thanks. I’m…swamped today. I’m sorry.”

She coos, worriedly. “Are you alright? You seem tired. Those are pretty…”

Blinking down at the roses in your hand and stepping slightly to the side to shield her view of the third on your credenza, you agree, “Yeah, just tired today. It’s the heat. Here,” handing her the flowers, you smile. “The red one is for you. Please give the white one to the Representative’s wife. I hope you have a nice tour.”

“Oh. Thank you, dear…but…how did you know I was coming?”

“I didn’t. There’s a nice old man who sells them. Sometimes I buy some to cheer up my desk.”

“You’re buying your own flowers? We should stop by Haavi’s desk and tell him he needs to do that for you.”

“Oh. No need. He does.”

Once she’s on her way, you swing out to the atrium, but find Steve and Javi’s desks unoccupied. There was talk of a situation on the east side of the old town, no doubt the whole department will be out most of the afternoon.

Good. Maybe you can get some work done.

Still carrying the note, you flip it over on Javi’s desk and scribble five words with the same pen–

You know where I live.

–tuck it under his typewriter with just the tiniest corner sticking out, and head for the coffee room. One cup and three more work hours should shrink that stack of paperwork on your desk.

If you can just shut it all out and concentrate.

And try not to expect too much. ________

The door to your apartment is unlocked when you get home. Well, he certainly jumped at your note.

It shouldn’t surprise you. There’s got to be department keys in some file somewhere. After all, how could he have done all that snooping around when you first got the job?

Dropping your bag and keys on the table in the hall, you head for the main room. “Javi? You here?”

Heart ramming against your ribcage, you emerge into the apartment…

…and find your parents seated at your dining table. Waiting.

“Mom. Dad. How…how did you get in?”

“Your father talked to the landlord. It wasn’t difficult, dear. We wanted a word.” Even though there’s an endearment, your mother’s tone is anything but.

“Okay. That’s kind of excessive. You could have just swung by my desk, you know where I–”

“This is a more delicate matter and we thought you might appreciate the privacy,” your father grumbles. “Sit down, sweetheart.”

There are two things on the table. Your mother’s purse, and a box of tissues. Not the brand you own. Provided for.

“I don’t think I will. What’s going on?”

They share a glance, a starting gesture as if to choose who will begin, even though it was always going to be your mom.

“We had a very nice tour of the city today. We saw the opera house and the capital. It’s a beautiful city. You must really like it here–”

“Representative wanted to go into some of the deeper parts of the city,” your father interrupts, already going off book it seems, “to see the neighborhoods that really reflect the majority economy, get a feel for the true people of Colombia.”

What’s this all about. There’s a silence. Of course there is. They’re waiting for you to prod them. “The old town. I know it. It can get rough, but mainly only if you’re already involved in something shady.”

“Well, there’s plenty that’s shady there, I’ll tell you.” Your mother’s nose lifts more than slightly. “Did you know that it’s crawling with brothels?”

“I do, actually. There are a lot of women who don’t have any other way–”

“Well, Haavi certainly knows about those brothels. We saw him coming out of one today.”

Oh. Shit.

Wait. What?

Fuck.

Your mother continues, something about being sorry to be the one to tell you, something about your heart and how it must be breaking, how it’s hard to be lied to….

The tissues sit on the table, a pretty pink box with daisies on it. They expect you to break down. Cry. How good of an actor are you?

“...and if you want to come home for a while, you know you are always welcome–”

Not good enough.

“Javi’s not my boyfriend, Mom.”

The silence that follows is thick, it mingles with the humidity, curdles it like cream in the air. You let it sit until it sours.

“He posed for me so you wouldn’t worry about me here. Like you always do. As if I could never make it on my own without someone.” Their shock sustains. The quieter they become, the easier it gets. “And Javi went along with it because he works with me. Day in and day out. If anyone ever thought I was in danger here, or couldn’t hack the agency, he’d be the first to say so. And I trust him.” Your mother opens her mouth to run her tongue, but you cut her off at the pass. “I trust that man. Yes, you saw him coming out of a brothel, but I’m not his girlfriend and he’s there for his job. Those women sleep with the people Javi’s trying to catch. It’s a brilliant tactic, actually. And they trust him too. Because he is good to them. He’s a good man; one of the best I know and deserves respect. He takes care of them and protects them as much as he would anyone else. You should have seen what he did for this girl Helena–”

It’s here that you notice something out of the corner of your eye and turn to find Javi standing silent in the hallway, still close enough to the door that your parents can’t see him around the corner into the room. But you can. Wide eyes. That tight fitting tan shirt. Slightly off balance as if he came to a stop immediately at the knowledge of walking in on something.

Why do you feel….caught?

“Anyway,” turning back to your parents with a sigh, “I appreciate your concern. But you don’t have to be. Not about him, not about me, not about anything. I’m sorry I lied. It just seemed…easier. Because you have never just believed I was fine. I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Like Javi said the other night, I’m thriving here. Even if he was posing, everything he said was true…”

But if everything he said was true…

A glance to the hallway finds it empty again. Even if the door is slightly ajar.

“Well. You can’t blame us for wanting the best for you, sweetheart. You’re never going to stop being our daughter.”

“I know, Dad. You keep saying that. It’s right there on my birth certificate.”

“There’s no shame in accepting help if it’s given freely and if it helps you achieve a goal.”

“I understand that, but I really wish you’d told me about it rather than let me think I did it all on my own. Do you understand how that feels? To be lied to?”

Your mother huffs. “I do now.”

Thank god for office coffee. Without the edge taken off of your exhaustion, you might have had more bite. But for now, you’ve said what was necessary and you’re not up for a fight or managing their feelings; you have enough of your own to sort out. If they care about you as much as they say they do, they’ll let what you’ve said sink in and not push the matter.

“Are you flying out tomorrow morning or afternoon?”

“Tomorrow morning, sweetheart.”

You nod and move into the kitchen. Seems they do care. You have to give them credit. “Okay. Do you want some dinner? I’ve got leftovers.”

“We have a dinner scheduled with the ambassador.”

“Well good. I’ve had a long day and I’m really tired. I probably wouldn’t be good company anyway. You’re coming back in for the trade agreements in January?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good. I’ll get to see you for a whole week then.” The sad smiles you exchange with them signal that everything’s going to be okay. For now.

There are hugs and kisses, a wish for safe travels and a promise to call in the coming days. Your mother apologizes loudly for cleaning your bathroom mirror. Your father apologizes softly for your mother’s volume. This time, you walk them all the way out to the street.

Your mother’s halfway to the car when your father doubles back, digging in his pocket, just barely remembering to give you the key he got from the landlord.

Or maybe he didn’t really forget.

“Your mother and I are proud of you, sweetheart. I’m sorry if we gave the impression that we weren’t.”

“Thanks, Dad. It’s good to hear.”

“I should have said it sooner.” He hovers as your mother gets into the car. “You tell Javi that it was nice to meet him. And that we’re proud of the work he’s doing here too.”

There’s something in the way he tells you this. Another apology. Or a knowing. You’ve never been sure with Dad.

“I will.”

As they pull away, waving, your plan is to go collapse on your couch and just be alone for a minute.

As you come back into your apartment, you have to amend that plan to collapsing on your couch next to Javier Peña.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You heard all of that?”

He doesn’t answer the question. You sink in, lean back, let your eyes close. He sighs.

“You mind if I smoke?”

“I do, actually. You know I do. And I don’t have an ashtray. There’s still some whiskey if you want though. Knock yourself out.”

The couch shifts a bit as he gets up. The pop of cabinet doors. The clink of ice against glass. After a few seconds, the couch shifts again and a cool tumbler slides gently against your hand.

You open your eyes to ice water.

“Thanks.” You take a long drink, not knowing what to say. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I never do. Bed’s too big. Sleep better when I’m not alone.” When you look him in the eye, he knows enough not to turn away. “One of the girls was called into one of Escobar’s regular haunts. Didn’t see him, but got a good look at some clients he’s courting. It was info worth delivering a retainer. And a final thanks.”

You do your best to keep your hope from shining through your cracks. “Final thanks?”

“Yeah. For all the…help in the past couple of years. Told them there’s a woman I’d like to spend some time with. Get to know better.”

The sly smile spreading across your face will not be contained. “Really. You told your informants that you were shoving off to the boring world of dating.”

“No. But I did let them know that if there’s a next time I darken their door, I won’t be in a very good mood. I don’t have a Jimmy to turn to if this doesn’t work.”

“Oh. So that was you today in the courtyard. That’s what inspired this? You jealous of Jimmy?”

“Nothing to be jealous of. He’s not your type. But. It might have sped up the process.” When you don’t laugh at that, he sighs. “Listen. I’m not good at this.”

“Yes, you are, I told you that you arrrre,” you yawn and go after another sip. “But I’m the one who’s going to be cranky and crap at it unless I take a nap. I’m sorry. It’s been a day.”

“Can I join you?” His dark eyes search yours as you empty the tumbler.

There’s something like a hope there. And something else, not quite an apology, not quite yearning, a worry that he’s going to do this right or die trying and he waited far too long to start.

Like he’s fighting the urge to expect too much.

“I said a nap, Peña.”

“Good. We were called in early. I could use it.”

It comes naturally. A smile. A matching smile. A whispered okay. He leans forward and slowly, softly, presses his lips to yours. Lingers a moment. Traces your nose–one side then the other–with his own.

“And what happens when we wake up?” you ask quietly in the space between you, in the space before the next slow, lingering kiss.

Javi stands, wraps three fingers around your glass and lifts it gracefully out of your grasp. Setting it on the end table, he reaches for your hand to help you up. “This is technically the third date, isn’t it? We could just…check off the usual boxes.”

“I think we established that I don’t especially love to do everything by somebody else’s rulebook.” Using the inertia of you coming off the couch to pull you straight into his arms and into a deeper kiss--one full of holding breath and clutching fingers--he chases it with a nip to your lip, which coaxes a chuckle. “But I’m open to actually following some rules for once. Especially the good ones.”

“Good. I think it’s time I worked you a miracle or two.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you. Well, lead the way. You obviously know where the bedroom is…”

He smirks, guiding you by the hand. “I’ll give you the tour.”

________

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[wayfayrr]

My love mine all mine

Continuation of I bet on losing dogs

It's my birthday so that means I get to treat myself by writing a continuation of my Roman Empire fic <3

It's a reverse Isekai but this time it's post the event that caused him to isekai, and he's got a bit more to deal with now - but he'll be fine because he's by your side, and he won't let anything change that there is so much lore going into this fic, so there might be more to come in this saga yet :3c

[masterlist]

I’m still here? 

No - no I’m not in Hyrule now, something feels different enough that I know that. If I was still in Hyrule then that ‘sky’ would be here if I wasn’t hallucinating him. Besides that though, something feels different, I’m not in as much pain although everything feels heavier. Almost - no don’t get your hopes up yet link.

Moving still takes a painful amount of effort, like my wounds are still there but now everything suddenly weighs triple on top of those. It was the shift from feeling floaty and detached to suddenly being forced back into a body, one that doesn’t feel like my own, that makes everything feel so undeniably real. Now it’s just a matter of opening my eyes to see what’s actually happened to me. 

The room I’m in looks so similar to [name’s] when we ended up here one time chasing the shadow, from what I can see lying down like this anyway. Don’t get your hopes up until you see them link. There’s a blanket over me too, the very same that they lent to me the first time I was here; the feeling of it over me makes it the fact that I can’t barely move somewhat more bearable as I let out a low groan. Which seemed to almost summon the person who’s probably responsible for taking me in. 

“[Na]-”

“link what the FUCK did you do?”

Wait, what do they me-

“how the HELL do I have memories of you being my best friend growing up now - I know I met you for the first time in hyrule. you aren't supposed to exist as a person here and yet.”

“[name] I don't -”

“I have the most vivid memory of everything. including having to pick you and sky up passed out on the street because apparently the two of you decided to go out on a bender or something - I don't know but I can remember it somehow.”

That rant seems to have cooled them off for now, not that they're mad just concerned… not that I'm not also. Those memories they mentioned too, I know what they're talking about; it's trippy. I have two sets of my life, one that I know is true and this other one that feels like a learned lie. A cover up. It feels similar to a backstory I learned to lie during espionage, but it's information about [name’s] world. Memories of a whole life lived here, like it's preparing me… or trying to adjust something new being forced into it that shouldn't be here.

“I don't - I think it's cause… I. You said sky is here too?” 

“Yeah, he's the reason I'm so certain these memories aren't real, he only got included when I found him when I went out to buy supplies for you. Something feels off about all of this, and I think you two have the answers I need.”

Did sky..? No he wouldn't have. Would he? 

“I think so too.”

“Can you tell me what you think it was?”

My voice is dead in my throat, I can't tell them what I did. They'll lose any respect they had for me won't they? I don't even know for certain if sky did the same… but I could have sworn he was there when I - I…He wouldn't have done that to himself, surely not. Even though I could've said the same for myself before everything.

“I… would prefer not to, if that's alright.”

“Okay link, I won't push you. Either way, it's nice to be back at your side even if it's slightly different than what I'm used to.”

That's all it takes to finally break my guard and for the tears to start flowing. I can finally rest, there isn’t any expectation of me here, no pressure to be the picture-perfect hero, no nothing. I can just exist here with my lover for the rest of our lives. 

“Can you tell me why everything feels so different now though?”

“Link, haven’t you been able to tell? You aren’t a Hylian anymore. Whatever you did, you’re a human now and you've got a whole recorded history here on earth. You and sky both. Speaking of him, he’s downstairs helping himself to stuff; been awake a lot longer than you have, should probably go check on him really. You feeling alright enough to come with me?”

Moving my limbs still feels different but now it isn’t impossible to move them and seeing the smile on [name’s] face from me just sitting up to move is more than worth the slight discomfort. Falling into their open arms is just another perk of it, being helped to my feet whilst being allowed to cling to them? It’s a dream come true. But despite this there’s something that doesn’t feel right, why is sky here… I’ll have to ask him myself. 

“S- why are you drinking all of my milk straight from the bottle sky?”

“...Wanna get drunk.”

“It's milk. You’re never going to get drunk off of drinking milk.”

With the two of them distracted by each other, [name] still letting me cling to their arm thankfully, I get a proper look at him. It’s sky, it’s really sky, but he’s human. All of his scars are the same asides from a new one on his neck and a few burns on his hands ones that look like they come from holding a sword. Fi must have tried to stop him. The strangest thing is seeing him with short rounded ears though - I can’t imagine what I look like to him. This has to be the first time I’ve seen him trying so desperately to get drunk though, he saw you do it. He’s drinking to forget, like you have so many times in the past. 

“What do you mean of course I will. Why do you think milk bars were so popular in hyrule?”

“But you aren’t hylian now sky. You’re a human now, and we don’t get drunk from milk.”

“You - we… don’t? Ah. Well. That explains a lot of things then.”

“Did everyone think that I was an addict? Oh my, that explains the ‘interventions’ each of you had with me. Even my boyfriends thought I was an alcoholic.”

The sigh they let out before resting their head against me could make me an addict, as ironic as that is. Although that does bring up the question of how everything is going to be so different now, we’re going to have to relearn a lot of what we’ve always known as fact. But it’ll be by [name’s] side. And I’ll do anything to keep it this way.

[jazeswhbhaven]

Maybe I want Him to Bite...(Lucifer Selfie Card Prologue React II) *Spoilers*

BEFORE YOU PROCEED, make sure you caught the first part ->

If you already checked that out then you're good to go~

We're back with part 2 everyone!!! Let's gooooo

So we left off on Gamigin being excited about Phenomenon, and even stated that Jjok was getting ready for his arrival too

But a little before that I wanted to point out that Buer was so happy that Lucifer likes his tea where he was saying to himself that he has to remember the recipe so he can make it the same way next time.

I love this because I'm sure Lucifer likes to see his nobles happily doing something for him, it kinda reminds him a bit of his brothers in heaven though a painful memory....(SAD I AM SAD)

BUT LOOK!!! Seeing his face plus the blossoming trees warms my spirit he is truly a wholesome chubby little thing and I want the best for him

So Gamigin is rambling this entire time to the 3 nobles and he's like LUCIFER SHOULD ENTER :D And all of them are like "yeah sure he would win" because they're slightly annoyed with Gamigin being so energetic lol

I love that this is gag of their relationship. Gamigin is the annoying little brother that won't stfu and seems to run on 24/7 sugar highs

At the same time Gamigin asks Lucifer if he wants to enter, and for a few slides of the story it's literally Lucifer fucking sipping and drinking his tea in silence which killed me

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

because that's all he's doing is drinking his fucking tea like what a damn mood

All he did was do that and no one complained about his lack of enthusiasm and honestly? Same. Just let me have my damn tea.

He then just says one word. "Why" and everyone is creaming themselves.

I mean? I get it. Lucifer probably doesn't speak much at all, a true man of silence. And I thought Satan was a person of few words.

Gamigin though explains to Luci he feels he should enter and flaunt how beautiful he is to Hell. To which Marbas is like basically calling him annoying for being so loud lol

And even though he's being scolded by all three of them, he's not even phased and keeps doing what he's doing lol

He brings up that Luci needs to meet Ra-On, and Morax agrees that since Luci thinks they're the key to ending the war, it would need to happen sooner than later.

Marbas though brings up that MC is always seemingly afraid of Luci so he's not sure if it's a good idea. Buer though counters that it's Gaimigin's theory that overtime meeting someone over and over changes things.

So it appears all of them are on different wavelengths based on what they think is comfortable for Lucifer.

But I mean...can't ya simply.... a s k?

So here's where we get some backstory on how the nobles are more perceptive of Lucifer's feelings and habits based on his actions. Even though it's been a good minute since he switched teams, old habits die hard.

In Luci's case...it's pretty much impossible to get rid of. He's still stuck in those angel ways of his and honestly I love him more for that. He's spent what? Eons being an angel? You can't just forget that within just a couple centuries. He'd probably still be the same way even the next 500 years lol

So Luci's forever beef with Solomon runs deep alllll the way to MC

(sorry lol but damn, that means if you're self-inserting and a Luci stan...he doesn't like you because of ya punk ass grandaddy ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

Morax is a cheerleader and I love that about him. He just wants the best for everyone. I want to give him head smooches.

Buer does ask though what this all has to do with MC in the first place, and Gamigin explains that showing Lucifer's beauty to them would be best and would possibly tempt them and successfully bridge the gap between the two AND give Luci a chance to win the contest at the same time.

While they're all talking amongst themselves and listening to Gami's reasoning, Luci starts to reminisce...

IM SO SAD..

He even says "The voices are here again" meaning he's truly trying to block out his brother's voice...his main ride-or-die sibling Michael. And that's just...so angsty. But his nobles remind him of these moments and he just silently fights through the memories.

I want to hug him if allowed.

So when he gets out of his daze, he agrees that he should participate if Gamigin says so. (lol that's his fave "brother" now)

Gami is happy, but Morax brings up an important element.

You gotta be beautiful AND most obscene. Like levels of heathen shit. Real hot girl shit.

And poor Gamigin is like "Mess Lucifer up? WHY (｡•́︿•̀｡)"

And the other three healers are just like "Oh sweet summer child..."

Because you know, Gami is a dragon lol he knows nothing about this they probably didn't do anything like this back in his homeworld

So the three start going over what everyone's level of obscene is. Starting with this wild ass thing

I'm right there with you Gami.

Now...not to yuck anyone's yum...but come the fuck on vomit??? I'm shivering just thinking about being NEAR vomit lol

did someone in avisos do that...i feel that's an avisos thing

Also Gamigin points out how does Buer's eyes glint while they're shut and I'm wondering the same damn thing like how does that even look. Buer you are an enigma.

HOE STORIES???? OLD COWORKER OOOO SPILL THE TEA WHO IS IT BUER??!?!?!?

MARBAS???? YOU TOO??? But tbh...I believe he's originally from Abaddon so that wouldn't be farfetched...

SO THE DEVILS OUT HERE SHARIN' HOE STORIES THEN OKAY

Just a regular ol' day where you're coworker is like "So btw I have some freak ass nasty sex so good I thought I'd need a exorcism" or something like that lmaoooo

THEN WE FIND OUT WHO WAS SHARING THE STORIES

VALEFOR??????? MY HUBBY????

g a w d I wanna swallow his dick so badly why is he out here being so shameless? The best? Ooooo I'll show my appreciation for saying it was the best he's had.

LERAYEEEEEE??????

I've been sleeping on him apparently because not him saying it was the best. Phew.

I'M SCREAMING... SITRI???????

PFTTTTT MARBAS JUST RANDOMLY HAS SITRI'S NUMBER WITHOUT EVEN ASKING FOR IT PROPERLY HOW DID HE HEAR THIS INFO THEN???

Nah Marbas, why you change the subject after saying you don't remember how you got this info from Sitri? Lmao omg

But yeah, the most obscene sex is from our little MC (which...I mean I feel there are some biases...B U T lol I'd like to think they'd say me too if it were I being bragged about)

Poor Gami is still hung up on the vomit scenario and I'm laughing about that. He just like me foreal.

He does suggest though that they just ask MC to come and "mess up Lucifer"

While Buer and Morax agree with Gami, Marbas scolds him again out of habit instead of praising him 💀

Meanwhile Lucifer is trying to gather himself and be prepared for MC to show up. Which is also a mood because it's like "Damn I really gotta be social today?"

Lucifer is also me when I just wanna sit here and be a recluse lmao.

So we're back from the flashback, and in Luci's private room which looks pretty swank. I'm pretty sure that's a wet bar in the background or a potion bar or something of the sort. (does he even play chess? lmao)

Gamigin asks MC to help Luci win the contest and well, they find him difficult to understand and get along with. That it was hard to look him in the eyes even with the 3 second rule and the devil who most understands that is....

Our boi Beelzebooo <3 (hey bae it's a cameo)

So he explains why it's really hard to be comfortable around Lucifer and it's due to his overpowering angelic aura despite becoming a devil and it bothers him quite a lot.

MC even asks him to confirm and he kinda stares at MC and ruffles their hair.

which means yes he's bothered he's just not gonna admit it.

And with that MC is like ALRIGHT LETS DO IT I SAID I WOULD...and...

.......why are they clumsy like my ass? LMAO

Whelp...let's go on over to part 3 and see what became of MC~

[icypopz]

with a physically flexible s/o ♡

↬ from anon ; 👋 hello. i saw that you write for blue lock (thank u) and i was wondering if i could please request headcanons of meguru, hyoma and rin with a s/o who's physically flexible. it's ok if you don't write this, i hope you have a great day.

↬ notes ; bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma & itoshi rin x gn!reader

↬from ice ; had fun writing this bc ive always wanted to be flexible LOL living out my dreams in fiction

↬ warning(s) ; joking threats, spoilers for chigiri's backstory

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

[ bachira meguru ! ]

bachira would be very impressed the first time he sees you showcase your flexibility. actually, scratch that. bachira is impressed every single time you do even the simplest tricks because he can't seem to wrap his head around how a human can be so... stretchy?

he's your #1 fan! every time you're stretching even before you start contorting, bachira will be cheering for you like "go y/n! yeahhhh! you're awesome!" he lowkey likes seeing how you get embarrassed because of his enthusiasm. (he thinks it's adorable.)

definitely wants you to teach him how to do the most extreme stunt ever, but you convince him to start off with something more beginner-friendly like splits. bachira is super focused while you're teaching him, and after a few days of stretching, he finally gets it! he's so proud of himself and he just does it All The Time for no reason until raichi threatens to break his legs.

he also may or may not make some jokes about you putting your flexibility to good use with him but will never go too far. he just likes teasing you and seeing your reaction. tells everyone else in blue lock that his s/o is the most flexible and coolest person on the planet, they've all heard so much about you by now that they swear they already know you.

more content utc !

[ chigiri hyoma ! ]

chigiri, as we all know, is a prince who always manages to keep his cool. so even if you suddenly start performing crazy feats the most this man will react is probably just his eyes widening. don't worry, he's really impressed, he just doesn't show it on his features.

however, he makes up for it by asking you a million questions about your flexibility! nothing invasive, of course, just queries like "when did you start attempting stunts?" "why do you like it?" "how do you even do that?" it shows how invested and interested he is in your flexibility because it's something that makes you happy.

chigiri is also quite concerned about you though. he knows that contorting yourself into all these positions isn't going to be easy on your muscles and tendons, so he reminds you to warm up and cool down every time you start stunting. he just doesn't want you to experience the same pain he did of having his dream almost ripped from him when he tore his ACL. so he might come off as slightly overprotective, but he has good intentions at heart!

he likes stretching with you for sure. it's just a cute way for the two of you to spend more time together before he's rushing to football practice and you're heading to practice your stunts. you'll both look out for each other and wish each other luck during these little sessions, and it always has to end with you planting a soft kiss onto chigiri's cheek for luck. (he says it's for luck, but actually he just likes you kissing him.)

[ itoshi rin ! ]

rin acts like he couldn't care less about everyone else but you're the exception: you're his entire world and one of the few times itoshi rin has been stunned was when you showed him how flexible you were for the first time. no joke his jaw was on the floor.

he thinks it's an awesome skill, and will kinda gush about it to you at first. he gets shy if you tease him about how many compliments he's showering you with and then gets grumpy. the conversation after that is something along the lines of: "aww, rin, you're so cute!" "no. shut up. i'm never being nice again." "nooo, i was just messing with you!" "too much praise will inflate your ego." "aren't you the biggest egoist here?! hypocrite!!!"

to be honest, he's more impressed by the amount of work you've put in to become this limber. he knows how hard it can be to maintain a specific physique in terms of muscle and flexibility, so he genuinely admires your hard work and effort. rin also likes inviting you to the gym so he can work out/train while you stretch and do your own thing.

rin actually doesn't think about the fact that you're flexible that much. he just thinks it's an added bonus to how amazing you are as a whole already, though he'd never admit that to you for the life of him. (he loves you but he Cannot handle your playfulness.)

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠

© icypopz 2022. do not repost or modify in any way.

[wildlife4life]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the always amazing @rogerzsteven (new fic drop!) @ebdaydreamer @bidisasterbuckdiaz (new fic drop!) @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @daffi-990 and @tizniz (new fic drop!) Thank you all so much and go check out their works!

Doing this on my lunch break, so dropping this snippet from NFL Buck real quick! Hope ya'll enjoy! All things NFL Buck.

It’s their second date after getting back together, after Eddie had attended his first session of therapy and his mind had been whirling, stuck on one particular question. It took him until the main course was served to finally ask, “When did you know?” Evan pulls his hungry gaze from his steaming plate of lasagna to look at Eddie in confusion, “Um, I told you about this place and their lasagna like a week ago and if I recall you-“ “No, not when you knew what you wanted for dinner. Jesus Christ, we really need to take a closer look at your meal plan with how often good food is on your mind.” Eddie snarks. Buck shrugs, unaffected by Eddie’s bitchy remark, “Well now you know the way to my heart.” Then winks. Flustered at his boyfriend’s shameless flirting, Eddie sputtered and flushed.  “You-Evan-you are just-“ The college quarterback chuckled and reached across the table to take Eddie’s hand, “God you are so easy to rile up, its adorable.” He gives his hand a squeeze three times and ducks his head to meet Eddie’s dropped gaze, “Just tell me what you meant. When did I know what?” Eddie sucks in a breath then pushes it out and puts his entire focus on Evan, “When did you know you were bi-sexual?” His boyfriend’s eyes go slightly wide, but he doesn’t look away and the grip on Eddie’s hand tightens, “What-um, what brought this on?” He asks. “Therapy.” Eddie responded, dropping his voice to a lower volume, “I brought up our date to Frank and he steered the conversation into the whole sexual identity and near the end, he told me I should hear other queer stories and that’ll help give me a better understanding of… well who I am.” “That makes a lot of sense. Seeing and hearing others in the community, helps makes sense of the world and shows that you are not alone.” Evan nods in understanding, “So, it’s not just the when of it all, but how too?” “Yea, yea. But you – you don’t have to tell me any of it. Frank pointed out that no one, not even you, owes me their story. I just… Well, I feel really comfortable and safe with you, and I hope it’s the same with me for you. You know? And I always want to know more about you, and this is a part of it. Also, it’s just so- “ “Hey, hey, hey. Eddie. You’re rambling. Which is my thing.” Buck cuts in, giving Eddie a chance to suck in break in his word spew. The younger man chuckles, “Going give me quite the complex directing all this at me.” “I’m sorry.” Eddie breaths out, gripping Evan’s hand tighter. “No apologies needed. Seriously. I am really honored, because I do feel comfortable and safe with you and I am so fucking ecstatic that you do as well.” ‘I feel like I could give you, my heart.’ Eddie thought but doesn’t voice the words. It’s too soon, he just got Evan back, and he’s just beginning to untangle the mess that was his mind and life. Instead, he says, “Me too.” He eases his grip and begins to play with Buck’s fingers, “So you’ll tell me?”

Getting some backstory of the boys and yes a version of Tommy is a part of it.

Tagging (no pressure): @spotsandsocks @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @hippolotamus @jesuisici33 @try-set-me-on-fire @devirnis @bi-buckrights @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @rainbow-nerdss @watchyourbuck @perfectlysunny02 @aroeddiediaz @loserdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @bi-buck-coded @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @sunshinediaz @ladydorian05 @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @bekkachaos @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @bibuckbuckley @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @bigfootsmom @911onabc @911-on-abc @smilingbuckley

[subtextsays]

DFF clownery incoming...

I'm riding the Non isn't dead train even harder since ep 9. I already knew the audience was going to see more of his story. We've been in his head/POV far too much for him to be dragged unconscious from the room and then just vanish. But the complicity of the original friends circle (sans Tee) kind of ended at that moment? They're fine not knowing what happened to Non. They prefer whatever imagined scenario fits with their self-image and allows them to sleep at night.

Keeping the mystery of Non's disappearance alive at this point is more about how his (metaphorical?) specter is going to shape the final act. So it would have worked to let him vanish then -- maybe in a slightly different way -- keeping his flashbacks with the backstory episodes. The details of his demise don't really matter in the present time because the tracks have been laid and the train is in motion.

Then the preview for ep 10 dropped this little bombshell.

(It's all of like 9 frames, I had to slowmo it a lot.)

I never expected to see Keng again, let alone with Non. Very clearly alive. Wearing the same clothes as in the highly sus news story footage -- the outfit Non was last seen wearing at the house the day Tee drugged him. If the clip was a photoshop job for a coverup, I'd expect Non to be wearing either his school outfit or the shirt he had on when Phee confronted them.

While I always expected to see more of Non's story, including Keng is a very odd choice. We were led to believe he'd been killed in a hit and run. (Yeah, no body, I know.) And Non's demise certainly didn't need his presence to play out, so why would the mafia (ie writers) go to all the trouble of reuniting them? Unless their story is going to alter the trajectory of the final act; and aside from Tee confessing things I don't believe he knows, the only way for that to happen is if one or both of them is still alive.

Bonus 🤡

I can think of one person who might need crutches and it's the guy who got his knees fucked up being hit by a car. 😂

[tookthe-405]

On our way

Flashback 1: We were younger…

(I wanted some more backstory I’m sorryyy)

DAILY CLICK 🇵🇸

DONATIONS 🍉

(Not so loserish)ellie x fem!reader

a/n: some fluffy flashback from when they were 14 to give some happiness :)

Max and Chloe coded!! (Just realised that wtf)

put my whole childhood homoromantic friendship into this 😪

RILEY MENTIONED!?? they did you dirty my love

c/w: compulsive heterosexuality?!(not much though), a chicken heart?😭, a bit of fighting (ofc!), jealousyyyy, panic attack (yes again)

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

(Reader and Ellie are 14)

(4 years ago)

Readers pov:

9/14

Whatever negative, people say about eighth grade, it's true. Eighth grade sucks. Seventh grade is manageable. Sixth grade? fine but Eighth grade was a new level you didn't know you had to go through. Few weeks in and its already a nightmare for you and all your friends. Thank god you found some.

When you got into middle school a few years ago, you and ellie managed to persuade joel to send ellie to the same school as you. Which wasn't a hard decision for him, because in a small town in Boston, he didn't have that many options.

But you didn't get into the same class, which was quite scary for you at first. Ellie, on the other hand, is good at talking to people, sometimes a bit too well, and then she says things that she should probably have kept to herself.

However, you had problems at the beginning of the 5th grade. The fear of being rejected by people you studied with for a years had haunted you.

Some of the classes were mixed together and you still remember how quickly you scanned the room, so you could find ellie to sit next to her, and unsurprised there were a few people around her laughing. You stood next the crowd, too shy to get Ellie's attention. She didn't notice you at all at first, but talked and laughed with the classmates around her.

That was the first time you felt afraid of losing her to people who are more In so many patterns. For a few seconds, you just stood there and watched her. Her easy-going but also attentive nature, which attracted people like the light a moth.

It was like magic.

She played with the feelings and laughter like water. Light in her hands, without meaning and purely out of feelings, but so careful. This was her stage, she was in her element, and you would always just sit in the audience, with an astonished and envious gaze.

But then she saw you and brought a gap through the crowd to show you that she had secured a free seat for you, with her backpack.

But today it is no longer the case. Eighth grade is a lot of shit, but you've finally made friends in the meantime. For a matter of fact, you're talking to one right now, but you're too engulfed in your thoughts.

"Hellooo you still there?"

Your body stiffens and you quickly turn away from the window, into the direction of Isabella .

"What?" you completely forgot that you are currently in biology and In the company of a friend… and that you still needed to finish a partner project.

Isabella giggles softly.

“You’re always doing that, what is your head thinking about?”

she playfully taps your forehead with her index finger. You grin slightly and wipe her finger out off your face.

“Nothing I’m okay”

“I Hope so because we Are supposed to dissect a chicken heart and not stare out the window”

A glance at the table and there is the chicken heart she’s talking about.

“Yeah no thank you” you say with a grimace that makes her laugh.

“It’s okay we can google the tasks at home, this is torture.” She sighs, puts the lid over the heart and takes of her gloves, you do the same nodding.

“So” she turns to you again with that curious grin of hers.

“What have you been daydreaming about the past few days?”

You let out a nervous laugh and wave your hand in the air.

"nothing what am I supposed to dream about, so…"

She raises her eyebrows reproachfully, she knows how you lie.

"You don't have to tell me, but is it a certain someone who starts with E?"

Your blood freezes with shock, but also respectful fear, of her alleged knowledge.

"what i don't know who you mean" Sweat forms on your palms and you quickly rub them together so that they don't Stupidly betraye you.

"I guess I hit the bull's eye, I knew you liked him?" Your forehead frown on its own and your stress sweat turn into anxiety sweat.

"Him?"

Isabella nods. "Eliza, you like him… Right"

The first two letter almost give you a heart attack but then you just frown at her.

she seems confused by your confusion, you turn around slow, as you are sitting in the first row, to stare at the boy in the last corner.

He just laughed and pressed the chicken heart into his sitting partner's face.

Ew.

Isabella doesn't seem to notice how disgusted you are, because she gives you a promising and excited look. Something pushes you to lie, you couldn't control it even if you tried.

"Yes, that's it" a sad smile on your face as you say the words.

Before she can react, the door is opened in a loud swing and ellie is standing in the doorway, grinning, behind her a few boys and girls.

"Hey" she gives you a warm smile that you knwo all to well, her arms resting on the table.

Then she looks up at Isabella emotionlessly.

"Isabella"

"Ellie" she replies dryly.

Yes, the two don't like each other very much. Then ellie's smile turned, quickly, sending it back to you.

"Aren’t you done yet?"

"No, young lady, they are not, and you knock before you come in" Ms. Perlow's voice booms through the room.

Any normal student would be scared, which justifies this woman is scary, but ellie isn’t sacred at all.

Grinning, she raises her arms in the air, as if she’s been caught stealing. A few children giggle at her gesture, but the older woman doesn't think it's so funny.

"Ellie, it's the same every time, you make a clown out of yourself for God's sake, leave this task to the boys"

Mrs. Perlow looks away for a moment to massage her temples with her thumbs and pointing fingers, which you felt a bit sorry for, she was soo old. Ellie of course doesn’t care.

She quickly rummages for something in her jacket pocket and nimbly presses a small piece of paper into your hand.

"Okay, till next time, Mrs. Perlow," she calls into the room before disappearing out the door.

"I hope not," the teacher murmurs audibly, however, and whispers break out again, in the classroom.

Your fingers try quickly and unevenly to open the note.

Meet me at the new dinner down the street, I’ve got news and please don’t bring Isabella along

- your favourite person ever

P.S your hair looks pretty :)

With each step, you tousle the autumn leaves on the ground. It was kind of fun though, so you didn't stop, the scurrying sound of the dead plants in your ear.

Ellie mentioned a new dinner, which you have already drove by once with joel. After a few weeks ago, you passed by the former tourist center, which was soon to be renovated into a dinner.

Ellie thought it was better right away, because there is no one who wants to look around here in a small town Beverly farms. The eastern side of Beverly wasn't really interesting, she was right, but you always thought the little town was cute.

Here is everything you need and you have the sea right in front of your nose.

As you walk down the street with your backpack on your back, you think about what Ellie must have meant by "ive got news".

Before you know it, you'll be standing in front of the new store. "Seth's dinner". It actually looks very cozy, the light inside seems warm and a few people have already become aware of the place.

It seems to you just in autumn, very hopeful? A new beginning that is going well, a small but beautiful change in this small town. When you open the door, the door snorts cold from the air, the pleasant air surrounds your face.

There also seems to be a bar, graceful bottles on the wall and behind the counter. But otherwise it seems to be a normal dinner. Greasy smell of fries, burgers and beacons in the air, but on the order table it is written (in beautiful handwriting) that there should also be donuts and pancakes in the morning. In the evening, the bar opens.

At the counter, an older man is eyeing you, who is drying a glass. You've never seen him before, and he looks spooky right away.

Your head turns in every direction until you see the waving hand of Ellie, who had held a seat across from her in a corner of the table. It looks a bit like the dinners in Joel's old movies.

With a loud noise, you drop your bag and sit down opposite her. You let out a tired sigh, but then you notice Ellie's excited look. You shrug your shoulders uninformed.

"What?"

"Wait, I want to order before I tell you"

Her legs were constantly wriggling with hustle and bustle and you can't help but smile a little. The waiter came to your table and you two ordered 2 fries.

"Okay, tell me now" you say

Something good releases in your chest, you suppress the distracting feeling before it could reach the surface. The sparkle on ellie's face made you nervous in various ways.

"Okay, but promise me you won't be angry, ok?"

Okay, so the bad nervous feelings won. You strain straighter, ready for whatever might come your way.

"How old are we ellie, you don't always have to say that, when you've done something"

Ellie laughs so bright, that sound that you appreciate so much every time, as if it gives you water just before you dry out.

"remember how We wanted to go fishing with Joel this weekend"

You shake your head.

"You wanted this, not me ellie"

"yes, anyway, and you know Riley, don't you? From my English course"

Your shoulders slumped, just as you were about to answer, your order arrived. The old man from the counter. You automatically avoid eye contact. As he quietly, almost like a ghost, puts down the plates in front of you, he stops abruptly and stares at ellie's legs.

"Can you stop fidgeting like that, it drives me crazy"

His voice is exactly how you imagined it, rough, a little hollow somehow and he sounds like he's been a smoker for 10 years.

Ellie looks after him with a pissed expression on her face and starts shaking her legs even more out of provocation.

"Whatever, Riley wanted to come this time and her parents allowed it, isn't that cool"

You're not as enraptured by the idea as Ellie is and you tap with the tips of your fingers, and an unpleasant feeling in your stomach, on the table a little rhythm.

Ellie's foot bumps against yours and you look up at her even before she grabs your hand.

"Now I understand what the old man means, it really makes you nervous" she Chuckles and you just feel her hand for a moment. It lightens yours gently, but not considerately, as physical contact is normal between you.

Or at least it should be. But her fingertips triggered a wave of heat that spread to your face like wildfire.

You quickly flinch back, worried that Ellie might feel your pulse, which beats very erratically. Your thoughts are circling around, unsure if the feeling is positive or negative. It feels… nice? Exciting and it's directly addictive, you feel your inner self wanting to reach for more, but an indecent anxiety accompanies you every time you allow yourself to think this far.

"so you don't like idea huh?"

Your head goes up. Shes the same as always, reddish hair, green eyes, those freckles… Ellie's own gaze has descended. You never wanted to see her like that. Now you nudge her under the table with your foot.

"No, I think it's a good idea" you lie straight to her face.

The well-known grin creeps back onto her face and she stuffs a french fries into her mouth.

Then she proudly told you how she was sent to the school principal almost twice, but also about how she got a B+ in math and how the subject gets way too much hate.

You tell her that it deserves even more hate and about the weird interection with Isabella.

Ellie choked on a french chip and coughed so hard that Seth almost kicked her out. She said that she would know if you liked someone and that Isabella shouldn’t think she could be more important to you, than she really is.

This gave you a tingling feeling, so that you almost completely forgot about riley

"I don't understand your anticipation about something like that" Confused, you watch Ellie excitedly digging her fishing stuff out of the rack.

After joel voluntarily took her with him a few times, it became a little tradition and she got her own fishing set, which she takes care of like a mother.

"I like fishing and I like to eat fish, it's a perfect fit."

You're leaning your shoulder against the door of the garage when she bumps her head under joel's workbench.

“Ow”

He can't stow boxes well and safely. But there isn't much space here either, the green pick up truck, tools and the bench on which he has already built the craziest things for ellie.

"I don't get it no, I don't like the hunt and the taste of fish very much"

You always feel like an unnecessary murderer,since you kill the beings and it doesn't give you anything.

Ellie grabs her personal spare fishing line and packs it into her fisherman's backpack.

"Then you can leave the fishes you catch to me… if you catch any at all" She grins at you challengingly.

"Hey!" You point your finger at her. "I'm not that bad."

“No, I wouldn’t want to be reminded of how bad I am either, I get it." She says and you can hear her fucking smile in her voice.

"whatever ellie, i don't like it and it’s not because I’m not good at it"

"Oh no its not that your not good at it, its that your terrible at it"

Annoyed, you roll your eyes, turn around and leave Ellie in the room, but you both have a grin on your mouths. In the kitchen, Joel waits in his typical fisherman's outfit at the dining table, with a magazien about horse races.

He actually just looks like a forester. "Hey little one you ready for the trip?"

You let yourself fall across from him, on the wood table , which Joel must have built and sanded himself.

In the beginning, you had a lot of trouble with him, he was older and taller than most of the fathers you knew.

He was also a bit old to be ellie's father. Which, in the end,turned out that he wasn't. Not exactly.

That's why he was a little colder to you at the beginning, to test you. What does it take you to leave ellie, how quickly can someone get rid of you.

He wanted to know so he could protect her from it.

That's what you're understanding today.

Ellie couldn't afford to lose any more people, and you'd be lying if you said you would have done it differently in his place.

Yes, he was a bit intimidating at first, but after a few months he softened.

Now ellie worries that he loves you more than her, but you know the truth. No one could get close to ellie, just like no one would ever get close to sarah. Probably not even Ellie herself.

You really wanted to know what name would use Ellie for the both of you?

The thought of a name, It scares you both. Because it was more than friendship yet less than- "hey you okay?"

Joel and ellie stare at you.

You nod quickly and look at the clock.

”Didn’t she wanted to be here already?" Your question was more directed towards Ellie.

Then the house bell rang and your hope falls deep and painful.

Ellie's face is starting to shine again, and even though that was one of your favorite pictures, it started to annoy you very quickly the last few days.

"Wait, I forgot my gloves," she dashed up the stairs with her huge hiking backpack and her much too loud shoes.

Her nimble footsteps could be heard throughout the house. Your gaze flicks back to a very concentrated joel, who twitches his head towards the door, to make it clear to you that you should get it.

You let out a little sigh and wander extra slowly to the door, maybe she left. She didn’t.

But You can't lie, riley was pretty. and nice. clever too. It annoyed you to the bone.

"hey"

You look at her for a moment and immediately notice the backpack and the fishing rod. God ellie will love her.

"Hey come in"

You politely open the door for her, before she enters the house she quickly takes off her shoes. Jesus, good manners too.

"Riley, Welcome, we'll leave as soon as this girl finds her gloves" he laughs in his typical raspy voice.

"Don't talk about me if when not in the room," Ellie yells down and Riley giggles. "Thank you for taking me with you this time, Mr. Miller.“

You didn't know Riley, but you can tell right away that she's very intelligent and that you understand Ellie liking for her.

As much as you try to cover it up.

Joel shakes his head. "You can call me Joel"

Riley nods briefly, and Ellie shoes can be heard whizzing down the stairs again. When she sees Riley, she freezes for a moment, even though she knew she would be here.

For a moment you wondered why she did that, but then you got it.

"Hey Riley"

"Hi Ellie"

The drive to the lake was 20 minutes. And they were the worst 20 minutes of your life. Ellie wanted to sit next to riley so bad she left the front seat to you. She never does that.

From the mirror you could see the two of them laughing, talking as if they have known each other for years.

For the first time, it seemed to you that ellie wanted to share her stage with someone. It's as if she's brought someone from the audience to the stage.

And that someone wasn't you.

You didn't say a word the whole way. Not a word.

When the bluish lake was visible trough the many trees, you wanted to drown in it. Now you still want that.

The weight of your backpack bends your back right now, and ellie and riley never looked happier.

"Have you ever fished before, riley?"

you ask the tall girl.

She nods. "My grandfather used to take me on his trips sometimes."

"So cool," Ellie murmurs.

You thought everything was shit in this place. The lake looks so unwelcoming in the fall, as if it is personally trying to tell you to just give it up.

The old wood of the jetty squeaks and slips because of the humid air and you doubt the stability of the old thing. Joel prepares a place where he can fish in peace and quiet, and gives you younger people the freedom to do it on their own.

As the youngest in the group, it doesn't help that you really are bad at fishing, but you should be able to do connect the purr and the fishing rod.

Actually, you only have to manage to connect a fishing line, the rest takes care of itself.

Too bad you're so bad to make this fucking knot.

and you really try, but it just doesn't work. After a while you get too uncomfortable that you can't do it and you drop your fishing rod loudly on the wood.

Riley looks at you confused.

Joel was back at the car searching for the bait that disgusts you so much that you’re always afraid that the worms are still alive.

Ellie looks at you and stops at your bright red face. You can't read her look, you can't understand so much about what's been going on with her over the last few weeks, maybe even months.

But maybe you’re the problem too.

"Can you help Joel for a moment, we'll come right away" Ellie jerks her head in Joel's direction, as she talks to Riley.

She doesn't give you one last look before she goes past you towards the car.

The freckled girl steps forward and picks up your fishing rod, in front of you while you stare into the air like a little child.

"Whatever is going on with you today, the fishing rod really didn't deserve that"

You look downs a bit again to meet her eyes.

"What's wrong with you Ellie?"

"With me? nothing at all… What is wrong with me?"

Her shoulders tense just a little bit, but you don't miss it.

"The only thing you're talking about is riley, the only one you want to impress is riley"

Ellie takes a few steps back for some reason and looks behind you, probably at joel and riley who are still looking for the fishing lure, out of respect.

"I don't know what you mean"

You let out a snort and look at her. “I don't know you like that and it's driving me crazy"

"Why? Why can't I change, what's your problem?"

You want to seek closeness, her hand in yours to make the emotional distance disappear, but she takes a step back again when you try it.

It makes sense that she doesn't want that right now, but it still hurts incredibly how she runs away from you.

"It's not about you changing, it's good that you do, I don't care about that, but not who you do it with, Ellie" you remark.

For a second, she seems so far away, as if worlds universes separate you. In some summers, ellie and joel visit their family in texas, or drive into town for a few days. The separated time is not pretty, but neither is it gruesome.

Cause you can’t wait for her to come back, and she's just as excited about it as you are.

But I’m this moment, right now, you feel more separate from her than ever before.

"It's not always about you, I'm not your-"

Both of you weren't sure how it happened, because all of a sudden she was in the water. You don't know if you pushed her or if she fell in because of her distance steps. But both would be your fault.

The sound the jetty makes, the platch of the water, the way she is so shocked as soon as her face reaches the surface.

With your hand in front on your mouth you watch as she stares at you indignantly. Thank god she can swim.

Her eyes and the light green of the lake, bite each other just a tiny bit. It almost seems to you as if it was so destined, ellie and the lake. And maybe that was the case, but not in autumn.

You can't imagine how cold the water is and her blue lips testify enough. But Ellie doesn't budge. For a few seconds, she just stares at you. Maybe so that she can picture it again later or to make you realize what you just done.

You two didn't have to check if joel and riley noticed, you can already hear the stomping footsteps.

"Im sorry I-" you turn around so fast that you get dizzy and you almost fall into the lake too , you run so fast down the jetty that Joel can't stop you.

You're not quite sure where you're going. It all looks the same anyway. A play of colours, of orange and yellow on the ground and in the crowns of the trees. The sounds of birds and the dead leaves in the air.

As soon as you don't feel your legs anymore, you stop.

Your lungs sound like they're about to give up on you, and you are about to hyperventilate. It feels like you're always running, if not physical, then emotional.

You run when you're awake, when you're asleep, when you're sitting, Whether that's on ellie‘s old couch or when you have dinner with your family. Something scares you and it's always in the back of your mind, no matter where you are or with whom.

All of a sudden, your chest feels too tight and your head too much, but the world feels too small. It's as if all the air in the world is evaporating in front of you, and you can't do anything but try to get some oxygen with every breath. Your arms rested on your knees, your head spinning and-

"Hey?"

Your eyes rush open so wide and fast it almost hurts.

Ellie's clothes are completely soaked, so is her hair and she shivers slightly. And she's standing in front of you? She’s wearing an fishing jacket, a thick one and a wet one, but she doesn’t care.

"Hey it's okay im sorry I shouldn't have said that" she says it so fast, your brain almost misses it.

she doesn't ask if she can touch you, even if a precaution wouldn't have hurt you. At first only your hand, she grabs it very carefully and her cold skin makes you twitch a bit.

After that, she holds your cheek in her other hand to make you look up. You could still feel the drops of water hours later.

"Come here its okay, I’m fine" She takes puts both of her arms around you and one hand rests on your head.

She literally presses you against her. Her hand gently caresses over your hair. You've shoved her into an ice-cold lake and she's holding you like you're gold. As if you weren't a monster - as if you mean something.

Like a lost piece of a puzzle, your own arms sling around her and you put your head into her shoulder.

You cry so often, and you know it. You know how overwhelming it is for you, for the people around you, maybe even annoying, but not for ellie.

The animals of the forest hardly bothered, even if it was like the whole forest when quiet for a short minute. But you might have imagined that too.

"I'm really sorry ellie"

Your breaking voice is very low, though she hears it anyway.

"I know everything is okay I’m fine, I’m sorry too"

Out of surprise, you stiffen for a moment.

"I dragged you out here and hardly spoke to you. You're only here because of me" she explains and You can’t deny that.

You were going to stay like this a little longer, but suddenly ellie's breath hitches.

"don’t fucking move"

Her words run like a cold down your spine and into your ear, all the way to your legs. You were prepared for something that would tear you apart from behind But not knowing what it was almost killed you by itself.

Her arms loosen and turned you around a little in the other direction. Her eyes are still directed forward, into the forest.

When you slowly turn around, theres only a… deer?

You suppress the urge to tease Ellie, expecting that a Serial killer with a pointed hook was standing behind you, but the beauty of the creature was already enough to shut you up. It's still a bit young, probably still baby.

The white dots reminded you of freckles, of ellie.

The same ellie who was still standing next to you, way too close. But by too close you mean “exactly close enough”. Just perfect.

The two of you watch as the animal sniffs around on the ground. Ellie's wet hand prushes yours just a little.

A daring, yet intentional invitation, which you immediately accept.

The deer looks up even though you didn't make a sound.

And it's hard for you to breathe, as well as blinking.

This moment, this gracious moment should last as long as possible. It seems to both of you as if it is looking right into your souls, your hand squeezes ellies even tighter.

"Do you have your phone with you?"

With her big eyes she is still watching the deer. You shake your head.

"That's fine. I think it wont leave us, just for a little while.

a/n: I tried to make it a little less angsty (I failed forgive me)

INTERACT W LINKS ABOVE!!!! 🍉🍉

anyways hope you liked it pls repost and like!!! Next chapter the road trip will start I promise 🤞 (no hate to Riley btw I love her but let’s be fr reader would be jealous)

@yourelliewillms @bready101 @liasxeatt @darkerstarsstuff @elliezato @macaroni676 @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @lovelyxbaby @yalaysbee @moonchild184 @a-little-bit-of-everybody @gosomewjere

[cowgurrrl]

The Palace in Flames

Pairing: Javier Peña x CIA!reader

Author's note: okay two things 1) fuck it we ball on this timeline 2) i don't love how this turned out but I need to finish it otherwise I'm gonna stare at it for god knows how long so enjoy anyways

Summary: "I'm not a violet dog. I don't know why I bite." [3.8k]

Warnings: canonical violence and language, alcohol, a little bit of backstory, discussion of PTSD like symptoms, a touch of misogyny, canon events but slightly canon divergent timing i think

There's not a lot you can do at the scene of the car bombing. You and Javi talk to local police and take witness statements from frightened neighbors and anybody else willing to come forward with information while Steve takes pictures. From what you can tell, it looks like it was a crude C4 bomb, one of the easiest to make and detonate. All it takes is the right amount of pressure, and boom. A few unfortunate souls died right beside Jorge as they walked past, unaware of the explosion to come. A hit for one quickly turned into a hit for five. 

You're good enough at your job to recognize the fact that Steve and Javi went poking around for information about the person who ratted on you, and then a few hours later, he's dead, not even ten minutes outside of your neighborhood. Medellín is a big place. It could've been a coincidence, but you're almost certain it's not. You really hope you don't have to make good on your promise to return to the US if they go after you again. 

You, Javi, and a handful of other police officers finish with the witnesses and join Steve by the truck. All files and statements will need to go through the proper channels tomorrow, and it's too late to do anything else. You'll start fresh in the morning: follow through on the plan to send out CENTRA SPIKE to see what they can find, monitor movement, and stay vigilant. But tonight, you deserve to get a drink with your two self-appointed bodyguards.

The great thing about working at the Embassy is that everyone touts interagency cooperation and work, but in reality, you rarely want to see each other in the same place. DEA will hang out at one specific bar while CIA will go to another. You don't even want to know where soldiers and higher-ups go once the clock hits six o'clock. Every agency thinks another agency is fucking them over or doing their job wrong. Everybody wants a medal for being in Medellín and fighting the narcos and communists but rarely wants to work together. You like to think your agencies have the upper hand with the three of you being friendly and sharing information without going through official, classified paperwork. It's not the most recommended or legal way to go about it. But, you've been able to pass on valuable information Javi let slip in between rounds and shared cigarettes under the guise of a Confidential Informant.

You were friends with Javi first. He came to Colombia around the same time you did, and you worked the same hours. You did him favors, and he returned them. You learned not to ask each other too many questions and to take what you're given and hope it leads somewhere. You've gotten little victories here and there: guerillas extradited, kidnapping victims recovered safely, witnesses given protection and visas in other countries. It was nice to have someone you could rely on and bounce theories off of when the office was empty, and you two were puffing your way through a pack of cigarettes. The lines got blurry about six months in. It happened fast and without warning, and you swore it was a one-time thing. And then it happened again. And again. And again. Then, it just made sense to keep doing what you were doing instead of going through the cycle of fighting about it and giving each other the cold shoulder, only to end up fucking in his apartment before the end of the day.

Steve, however, got stuck with you. When he became Javi's partner, he was forced to know your name and seek you out in the office when he needed something. At first, he wasn't super keen about the idea of having to rely on CIA for things— something to do with that DEA machismo of not needing anything from anyone— and then he realized how good you are at your job. Once you helped them get an especially important collar, he opened up. He told you about the killing of his last partner and a little bit about his career up until this point. He practically begged you to talk to Connie when she started getting homesick and having doubts, and you came to care for her. Now, you're an inseparable trio (quartet if you count the nights Connie makes her way from the communa clinic and into the bar). 

You think Noonan knew that when she asked Steve and Javi to join the Colombian police on your recon. Something about friendly faces in an unfriendly territory. She was right. You stuck to Javi the entire ambulance ride to the hospital, and they each took turns at your bedside. Even Connie showed up to take care of you during those long few nights in the hospital. You were less willing to accept help once you were discharged, but Steve would knock on your apartment door every night and leave a covered dish on your doormat while Javi bought you groceries. You owe them a lot, though they'll never let you admit it.

Javi buys the first round to celebrate your reinstatement. He gives a brief, flattering toast to your work, and you roll your eyes but clink your glasses together anyway. You avoid talking about theories and leads in the bar, even though you probably could talk about those things in English and get away with it. Everybody already knows you work for the American Embassy. No reason to give anybody anything to report back. Instead, you talk about stupid things like Steve being unable to speak Spanish.

"I can understand a little," he tries to defend himself, and you and Javi share a knowing look. He definitely doesn't understand enough to quantify it as a little. He might pick up every tenth word and know enough commands to dole them out when he's in the field, but that southern accent anglicizes every single syllable he utters. "Alright, y'all can go fuck yourselves." He says at your silence, making you laugh.

"Don't worry about it, Murphy. Couple more years and you'll be running circles around Javi." 

"I don't know about all that, but she's right. You'll get better," Javi takes a sip of his drink. "Eventually." 

Over two more rounds, you talk about things back home, tell stupid stories, and whatever else you could think of. It's nice to see Steve and Javi acting like they kinda like each other outside of work. Lord knows they're at each other's throats most of the time. You enjoy hanging out with them, and even though you know you can handle yourself, you like feeling protected by them. Years of CIA training and undercover work don't mean shit when all people see is a woman alone at night. 

"Alright, I've gotta get home," Steve says as he drinks the rest of his whiskey and puts his cigarette out. He probably should've been home hours ago, but that's none of your business.

"Tell Connie I said hi." You say, and he smiles, nodding and mumbling a quiet "yes, ma'am." He loves her so much, even just the mention of her makes him light up. Your thought from earlier creeps up. A good man. And yet he's here, doing the same shit you and Javi are. It's a little funny how squeamish he still is about things, but you figure that's the last sign of his humanity. God, please let that linger for as long as possible. Javi takes a drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke away from your face.

"Yeah, give her a kiss for me." He says. Before Steve can even open his mouth, you smack the back of Javi's head and groan.

"Ay, Javier," you scold. "Malo, malo, malo." Javi smiles, a rare sight reserved for moments like this, as Steve bids you goodnight again and leaves the bar. The second he's out of sight, you reach over, snatch the cigarette from Javi's hands, and bring it to your lips. 

"Get your own," he grumbles, but there's no heat behind it. You roll your eyes and exhale. 

"Stealing from you is so much cheaper, though," you shrug as you hand it back to him. "You think he got suspicious when we showed up at the same time?" 

"We live down the road from each other and got the call around the same time. Even if he figured it out, he wouldn't say anything. Plus, I think your little attitude at work throws him off." He says, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

"My little attitude?" You ask. You know he said it just to piss you off, and you hate that it's working. He smirks and you shove his shoulder, stealing the cigarette back from him. "Pinche cabrón." You mumble, and he laughs. He gets a new cigarette from his pack and lights up. A comfortable silence falls over you as you sit there, his hand finding a home on your thigh under the table. 

"So, how're you doing?" Javi asks, seemingly out of nowhere. You shrug and ash your cigarette into the half-full tray in front of you.

"'M fine." You say, and he hums. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and glances around like he's looking for something you can't see. He blows smoke away from you and leans in. 

"So, waking up screaming is fine for you?" He asks. You didn't want to talk about it when you woke up, and you especially don't want to talk about it now. You poke your tongue into your cheek in annoyance. 

"If you thought I wasn't okay, why'd you push for Noonan to clear me?"

"I didn't say I didn't think you're okay."

"Then, drop it." 

"Look, I know you wanna go all in again, but maybe you should take it slow—at least for a little while," he says, and you scoff.

"Give me a fuckin' break, Javi. Did you take it slow when you got shot?" You ask.

"Getting shot and getting kidnapped are two completely different things."

"And yet we both survived," you say, gesturing between you as proof of your survival. "The doctors wouldn't have cleared me to come back if they didn't think I was ready."

"Yeah? How much you pay 'em off for that signature?" He asks. You sigh and bite the inside of your cheek. You're not going to dignify him with a response but you so easily could. "C'mon, just... let your feet get wet again. Everyone knows you've already got the lay of the land, but they don't know that you won't freak the fuck out once you're fully back in the field. I think some of them are waitin' for it," he says. It would explain why everyone's treating you like you're a time bomb. "If you won't do it for yourself, at least do it because I'm asking you." 

"And are you asking me as a coworker or a friend?" You ask. He's staring at you in his weird Javi way: hardened brown eyes softening just enough to bring your guard down. It's not something he learned from years at the Academy or in the field. That's all him. 

"Would it make a difference?" He asks quietly. Answering a question with a question. What a cop.

"Not really." You say, and he sighs. He scrubs a hand down his face and picks up his drink, a cigarette lingering between his fingers. 

"I'm asking as someone who saw what they did to you." He says before taking a big gulp of whiskey. You haven't talked about it. Not about what he saw and knew before finding you or what exactly happened in that room over those few days. You spent hours upon hours repeating the story for doctors, depositions, agency paperwork, and even to the court-appointed psychiatrist who had to screen you before they could even let you back in the building. So, you weren't necessarily gunning for the opportunity to repeat it again when Javi asked you about it. There are only so many sympathetic looks and half-hearted reassurances one person can take.

Even though you relied on him to tether you back to earth during those first few days, he took the brunt of your emotions. You refused to answer his questions and pushed him away. "I'm just trying to help," he told you when he tried to take care of you. "Where was your fucking help when they grabbed me from the street, huh?" You snapped, exhausted and sore and a little out of your mind. It was mean and unfair. You know how hard everyone worked to find you. You know how he blames himself. You know how scared they were to find your body.

When he puts his empty glass down, you look at him and nod. You can't take back what you said, but you can soften it a little. You put your hand over his and trace the contours of his knuckles. They're a little bruised and cracked, but still a part of him. You take a deep breath and rub your thumb against his skin. 

"Okay," you concede quietly. "I'll slow down for a little while, but the second we have good intel, I'm all in again." He lets out a relieved sigh and squeezes your thigh. 

"Thank you." He mumbles. To anyone walking by, you two would look like a couple having a drink after a long day of work before going to your shared home and sleeping it off. You indulge in the thought for a second longer than you meant to before you retract your hand and reach for your drink. 

"You're gettin' soft on me, Peña." You accuse, and he chuckles.

"God forbid I wanna see you make it outta here alive." He says, and you hum as you finish the rest of your drink. His eyes stick to the corner of your lips where a few drops of tequila spilled, his thumb twitching as he stops himself from wiping them away. "What're you doing for the rest of the night?" He asks. It's an opening. An invitation to finish what he started earlier. What happened with Alemán earlier in the day must've wound him up, made him tense and in need of release. Unfortunately for him, there are few things you like more than making him sweat.

"Well, I've got a dinner I need to pack away in the fridge and dishes to clean."

"I can help."

"I don't think you can," you say as you stand and grab your jacket from the back of your chair. "Besides, I'm supposed to be taking it easy. I should probably get some rest before my first actual day back, right?" He rolls his eyes as you throw a couple of bills down on the table for your share of the drinks, and you smirk. "I'll let you walk me home, though." 

"You'll let me?" He asks, but he's already standing and pulling his own jacket over his shoulder. Like clockwork, you think.

"Figured it's the least I could do." You say, and he scoffs, swatting at your ass when he passes behind you.

"Vámonos princesa." 

You get a warm welcome back to the office by immediately getting thrown into the chaos of the CIA. A corkboard with all known names of M-19 and other communist group members looks like a serial killer's wet dream with all the notes and grainy photos that stare you down as you talk about recent developments in the jungle. Honestly, you don't care what a group of kids are doing or planning to do, but everyone else in the CIA seems to think it's the most pressing matter.

Despite what the Agency and Reagan want you to believe, you know communists are not the most dangerous group in Colombia right now. Narcos are practically running the country and ruining countless lives with their rampant murder and exploitation. So even though Lou wants to sink a billion dollars of American taxpayer money into fighting guerillas in the jungle, you have one eye on the situation with the narcos. You're just waiting for the message to come down through the ranks that it's all hands on deck for taking down Escobar. Lou knows about your indifference and exacerbates it every chance he gets.

"Agent, I want you to work with Mil Group on tracking their movement to see if there are any patterns. I want to know where they're going and what they're planning." He says, pointing to you. You give him a look and cross your arms over your chest. You hate working with Mil Group. It's a group of guys with sticks up their asses and, somehow, never see the outside of an office. You catch Javi and Steve walking by through the windows, obviously going somewhere, and you lose whatever patience you have.

"All due respect, Colonel, but Ambassador Noonan took me off of desk duty effective immediately. I think I could be of more help in another area concerning M-19." You say, and he raises his eyebrows at you. You're also not fucking boss, you think.

"I'm sure we can find the time for you to show us how big and bad you are another time, sweetheart, but right now, this is where you're ordered to go." The nickname is abrasive in your ears, and you want to correct him, demanding your title as Agent, but Javi's words ring in your ears. They're waiting for you to freak out so they can send you home. They're waiting for you to blow up on somebody for a small thing. They want you to fail. You sigh and bite your tongue. 

"Yes, sir." You say before making your way to the Jarheads. 

For being off of desk duty, you still feel like you're doing mind-numbing work. All you're doing is plotting points on a map where satellite phones have pinged off of cell towers in an attempt to triangulate where they might be hiding out. Considering how there are barely any cell towers that reach that deep into the jungle, and even if they did, the calls drop after about thirty seconds, you don't have a ton of riveting information to work with. You listen to the recorded, half-legible calls and translate what you can to another agent, but nothing suggests they're planning anything. If they are, they're keeping it off your radar.

After wasting a stupid amount of time doing that, Lou draws up a bigger map and makes you replot all the points down with an estimate of where they might be. You're not CENTRA SPIKE or well-versed in how triangulation even works, and he knows this. It's a fool's errand at best, but he demands it by the end of the day. "So I can give it to the tech analysis guys." He says. You're about one more pointless task away from bashing your head into a wall, but you start on the map anyway. 

You're about halfway through when you hear Murphy calling your name, and you turn to see him and Javi walking through the crowded Mil Group office. 

"You're working with the Army now?" He asks, and you sigh. 

"For the day. Lou is on everyone's ass about this M-19 shit and thinks I'm the best person for the job, apparently," you say. "Please tell me you have something better than this." 

"We just got a sicario's son off the street. Dumbass was distributing in broad daylight in front of a cop." Javi says, and you furrow your eyebrows.

"We both know that's not a good enough reason for a cop to pick up a sicario's kid. What're you holding out on me?"

"Apparently, the cop heard him bragging about rigging a car with a bomb. He said something along the lines of, 'That's what happens to rats,' and then said something about going after La Golondrina next." Steve supplies. So this sicario's kid rigged the bomb to kill the informant who sniffed you out, said he also had a bomb for you, and now he's sitting somewhere in DEA custody? If Escobar's men weren't going after you before, they definitely are now. 

"Do you think he even knows anything? He might just be daddy's errand boy." 

"He asked for a deal," Steve says.

"Wheeling and dealing might not be grounds for extradition, but threatening to blow up a United States CIA agent just might be," Javi says. Something shifts in his eyes just enough for you to catch it, and you know it has to do with the conversation you had at the bar. You shake your head and break eye contact with him to look at Steve.

"Right, but you know how Wysession and Jones are. If it doesn't involve communist groups, they don't even want to look at it."

"The kid told us that some of Escobar's men have been talking with one of the leaders of M-19." Bingo. You throw down your marker, stand from the desk Wysession relegated you to, and all but march into his office with Steve and Javi close behind you. 

"How's that plotting coming along, honey?" Lou asks as he looks up from his paperwork, his face falling at the sight of the two men behind you. Lou might not like you, but he dislikes Javi and Steve more. 

"Agents Peña and Murphy have intel that Pablo is communicating with M-19 guerillas," you say. "That means there could be a joint attack coming, which means we can't keep separating the communist and narcos task forces." 

"Has this information gone through Noonan?" He asks.

"No, sir. We wanted to relay the information to our Agent here first since the intel involves her kidnapping." Steve speaks up, using your actual title, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. 

"Is your intel good?" Lou asks Steve, ignoring you and Javi, and Steve gives him a look. 

"You think we'd be wastin' your time if it wasn't?" 

"Well, then, you better get a move on and go tell her." He says like he doesn't actually like the idea, but he can't think of anything else to say. You, Javi, and Steve quickly leave his office and start the trek to Noonan's office when Steve gets a call on his sat phone. He looks like he's about to ignore it before remembering it could be Connie, and even though she's supposed to be at work, he doesn't take any chances and answers it. You're close enough to him to hear her frantic chattering on the phone and saying something about M-19 and Escobar. The walk to Noonan's office turns into a run, but it doesn't matter. By the time you get there, thousands upon thousands of pages of evidence against Pablo Escobar are burning on the TV as M-19 takes over the Palace of Justice. 

This isn't just a singular agency fight anymore. You doubt it ever was. You know that the Palace of Justice Siege will change everything for better or worse, and you have to be ready for it. Promises made over glasses of scotch be damned.

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