#we’ve got trauma that needs coping

[notagaslightingcat]

putting a dish in the dish rack and it clink-clanks in the wrong way:

[anthurak]

A little while ago, I floated an idea for a future-fic of Helluva Boss wherein Blitzo quits the assassin business and leaves I.M.P. in the hands of Loona. The funny thing is though, the more I’ve thought about it the more I’m starting to think this may be a very likely endpoint for Blitzo’s full arc and the show as a whole.

Because I think the show has already outlined or at least strongly hinted at what Blitzo’s murder-buisness really represents for him, and it might not be a good thing.

Remember this exchange all the way back in Loo Loo Land?

“Does anybody love you, BLITZO?”

“No. But I’m really good with guns now!”

Think about that for a minute. Blitzo matter-of-factly states that he believes no one loves him, but that’s okay because he’s good at killing people, ie; his job now. And taken in context with what we’ve learned about Blitzo since this episode, I think this line really paints a dark, depressing picture of Blitzo’s relationship with his work.

Because we know that under the surface, Blitzo craves emotional connection and intimacy. He is actually desperate to be loved. While at the same time being terrified of being hurt if he lets himself be open and vulnerable to another person.

Which of course brings us to what we learned in this latest episode: That Blitzo has been living with the guilt of accidentally maiming his best friend and outright killing his mother. Blitzo states outright in this episode that Fizzarolli should hate him for what he did, and very nearly admits that he hates himself for it too.

So taken together, I think we can safely say that Blitzo’s whole ‘badass hitman’ act and even his whole fixation on the assassination business may very well be part a coping mechanism. A way for him to bury his trauma, guilt and whatever other baggage he’s constantly on the run from. A way that he can say he doesn’t need love and intimacy because he gets all the fame and respect he needs by being this badass hitman.

And even more unsettling, Blitzo’s being a hitman could very well represent him INTERNALIZING his intense guilt and self-loathing. That Blitzo sees himself as a killer and a destroyer of lives because that’s what he did to HIS mother and family. We know that Blitzo tried to reach out to Fizz in the aftermath of the fire, but was blocked by some unnamed ‘they’, likely the other survivors of the circus and particularly Blitzo’s father, Cash. Imagine if they pushed Blitzo away, calling him a killer, of his own mother and everyone else who died in that fire. And Blitzo wound up just… accepting that moniker.

Also, does anyone else remember how in the first episode, I.M.P. took a job to kill a mother, who just so happened to have a son and daughter who look about the same age?

A killing which Blitzo was going to do with zero hesitation whatsoever? In hindsight, much like with Moxxie’s comments about ‘a mob family’ in the same episode, I can’t help but feel this might be giving us a hint at just how deep Blitzo’s repression and internalization of his guilt really runs.

As we dive further into Blitzo’s background and learn how he got into the hitman business, it’ll be interesting to see just how beneficial or outright toxic Blitzo’s hitman career path actually is for him? ie; Does Blitzo get something genuinely positive out of the assassination business? Or is it something actively blocking Blitzo from forming healthy relationships and facing his problems? For a potential contrast, look at Moxxie and Millie: Both seem to be in the assassination business because they like it and they’re good at it, but they don’t seem to have based their lives around it like Blitzo seems to have.

Which brings us back to my original concept: We may reach a point eventually in the show where Blitzo has to give up the assassination business for his own good. Let go of this fixation he has on the whole ‘badass hitman’ persona in order to face his real problems and move on with his life.

But instead of dissolving his company outright, Blitzo instead passes leadership/ownership of the company onto someone else. Hence my idea of Loona, after her own personal arc over the course of the show, inheriting the company.

[bridenore]

HD fic recs : mpreg!draco (part 1)

Here are a few recs involving mpreg!Draco. This is part one of two and focuses on shorter fics (up to 30k). Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

And Hope Says, Perhaps Today by @thisbloodycat [10k]

It’s for the best, Draco keeps telling himself—over and over like an endless mantra. But self-deception has never been that high on his list of coping techniques.

Azkaban Redemption by Sita_Z [15k]

Post-war Azkaban has no dementors, but Trainee Auror Potter still feels as if it is sucking out his soul. He would leave, if not for a certain inmate who clearly needs his help. Harry Potter is about to become obsessed with Draco Malfoy again.

The Baby by @kikibluemay [5k]

It was supposed to be an easy affair, devoid of complications. Then Draco got pregnant.

Close To Ever After by oldenuf2nb / @dianacopland [15k]

When Harry Potter finds he’s been cursed, he withdraws from the world and prepares to die. But when have things ever gone the way Harry Potter planned?

Coming to Terms by RurouniHime / @thegertie [16k]

Of all the lives in all the world, Harry had to own this one.

Dissonance by BummedOutWriter [17k]

Draco met Harry’s eyes directly, and spoke to him for the first time in eleven months, “Avada…”

 The rest was muffled in trauma as Harry felt a familiar warmth of magic, a flash of emerald light descending rapidly as he squeezed his eyes shut, and braced for—

Or: In which Draco becomes a death eater, has a daughter, and tries to forget about her.

Heal Me Slow (Love Me Fast) by crazyparakiss  [11k]

Being a father had never been in the cards.

Here Comes the Sun by ad_libitum [5k]

He’s touching me the way he did that morning, with a reverence I didn’t deserve then but now couldn’t be more fitting: this child we’ve made cradled within me and between us, flesh, blood, and bone spun from our deepest, most desperate desires.

Hold Close Your Heart and Take the Leap by  @dracogotgame [19k]

Draco knows he needs to tell Potter their lives are about to change forever. But ‘knowing’ and ‘doing’ are two very different things.

“I’d Rather Change Nappies Than Have My Cock Sucked” and Other Ravings of a Pregnant Wizard by Frayach [23k]

Like everything else between Harry and Draco, pregnancy and child rearing are fraught with drama

If Wishes Were Children by oldenuf2nb / @dianacopland [14k]

Harry Potter has tried to move on with his life after Draco Malfoy walked away from him months before with little or no explanation, but it’s been hard. Then, on a joyous day at the Burrow, Narcissa Malfoy makes an unexpected appearance…

If You Miss It, Try Again by dodgerkedavra [23k]

The healers promised Draco he wouldn’t get pregnant a second time.

They were wrong.

And this time, he’s pregnant with his best friend and roommate Harry Potter’s baby.

Nine months is all he has to figure it out.

In a party bathroom by KatieScarlet [16k]

He hadn’t even wanted to go to the ridiculous party, let alone planned on shagging Potter in a port-a-john while he was there. But he did, and oh, what fun the consequences it brought were…

Jolene by @romaine2424 [21k]

Harry comes back from a mandatory holiday and finds that an Auror raid on his favourite establishment could expose his biggest secret.   However, another has even more secrets than he does at stake.

Jolene Deux by @romaine2424 [5k]

Draco makes special plans after being told by his Healer that he’s fully recovered from being pregnant and having given birth to his and Harry’s daughter, Violet.  I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into Harry’s and Draco’s future life together.  The story begins immediately after where Jolene ended.

Jump Into the Fog by taradiane [9k]          

Draco returns to Hogwarts for his eighth year carrying a secret that will change not just his life, but Harry’s as well.

Never the Same Again by dragon_charmer / Frances Potter [22k]

The war is over … in fact it never really got started because the Dark Lord proved to be the more powerful. Now five years after Dumbledore’s death, Draco Malfoy has something else to worry about besides being a spy.

‘Ohana by plumeria47 [11k]

It started off so simple: sex whenever they wanted it, with no further expectations.  But life has a funny way of turning everything up on its head.

On Truth and Understanding by @iero0  [21k]

“I questioned it,” Draco says, factual as though to convince himself. “I questioned everything I’ve been taught as a child.”

“To what decision did you come then? Do you want children?” Harry asks.

“It’s sometimes hard to know,“ Draco replies oddly quickly, "what one really wants.”

–

Draco doesn’t know how to say certain things. Harry doesn’t know how to ask for them. On a sultry summer’s night, they finally talk about past wounds, current problems, and the future options that will change their lives forever.

One Day’s Difference by @melcalder [10k]

Draco’s sacrifices his god-given body and has (mostly) no regrets.

Take What’s Left of Me by Frayach [22k]

One day Draco just left without saying a word, leaving Harry reeling.   You’d think that after what Draco did, Harry could move on, but he can’t.  When Astoria miscarries and Draco comes to him pleading for a baby, Harry can’t say no.

Unbroken by taradiane [18k]

Memories make us who we are. What happens when they disappear?

Where You Belong by @coffeejunkii [11k]

“Harry Potter” and “impossible” cancel one another out.

you’re alive by KatieScarlet / @kat-the-wren [27k]

The most boring shift in the world, filled with Muggle car ride games to pass the time, was interrupted by a tow-head boy begging for help to save his papa and ultimately changed Harry’s life from there on out.   For the better, of course.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[bengiyo]

La Pluie: Not All Gays Are Great

Alright, besties, let’s get into it. This episode was fantastic, and every moment was earned by the character work laid out across the entirety of this show (@lurkingshan ). I want to dig into the ways gay men can fail each other with communication breakdowns and the often-masculine need to control situations. Despite his exploding temper in this episode, I still love Patts. I am going to write this entire essay with the full intent to defend my boy.

Tagging my Patts Defense Squad Member @lurkingshan

We’ve got a lot to discuss, and I just want to post this screenshot because every gay in crisis is one of my favorite things ever.

Lomfon: That Boy is Rude

Lomfon is the kind of nonbeliever that I find so annoying (@shortpplfedup). He has a moment that makes him question his convictions and does not proceed rationally about it with any compassion for anyone else. He could have just brought all four of them together, explained his hypothesis, and asked to solve it together.

See, but Lomfon is a drama queen. Instead, he corners Tai into a date and into the rain, reveal their rain connection, and then kiss him.

He also did not reciprocate on Tien’s attempted pinky touch. This is a huge offense!

And he lied! He heard Patts AND Tai! He only mentions that he heard Tai!

I’m sorry, but I come of “Talk shit, get hit.” He deserved that ass whooping.

Patts: He Deserves to be Angry

Patts’ anger was scary. I full admit that. I’ve always treated anger as a response to losing control. So much of this show is about Patts letting go of his desire to control his relationships. He has avoided conflict with Nara, and he’s been patient with Tai’s reticence for over two years.

In this episode, Tai asked Patts for forever, and then the next time something comes between them Tai opts to lie to Patts. When confronted directly about this, Tai retreats and refuses to discuss. @ginnymoonbeam discussed this here. He says it plainly this episode: “…The only thing I can’t bear with is your silence.”

He’s been good about Tai giving and rescinding consent across their relationship. When Tai asked him for forever and they went home, Patts told him that he wouldn’t be able to hold back anymore. In this episode, Tai chooses to not trust him, lie to him, and then not explain himself. I appreciate that Tai copes with avoidance, but it’s not going to work when Patts needs Tai to acknowledge what’s happening with them.

Also, this show has shown people hurt and bruised from trauma. Patts didn’t hit Lomfon hard enough to leave a real mark, and let him keep yelling the whole time.

Sincerely, Tai is the one who needs to reconcile with Patts.

Tai: He Reads Too Much Romance

So much of Tai’s behaviors for me make sense through the lens of someone who reads too much romance. He expects Patts to understand his thoughts even as Patts is telling him directly that he doesn’t because Tai hasn’t shared them with him.

He decides to go and humor the romantic rival. I genuinely believe he thought he would try to understand the Lomfon situation and let him down and was instead blindsided by the soulmate reveal and kiss. I also get his fear when Patts got angry.

gif by @liyazaki

However, I really love that the universe answered Tai’s plea. At a moment of genuine crisis, the world respected his choice (@liyazaki). This show has always been about how the choice to love people is the key. Love is a choice you make constantly, and the universe respected Tai’s choice to sever those connections. Will he enjoy what he finally got?

gif by @liyazaki

Like Lee Wan in Our Dating Sim, Tai doesn’t appreciate the pain that he’s inflicted on Patts. I am still recovering from Patts asking, “Is it that hard to choose me?” With all of the things that happened at the beginning of this episode, I think it is cruel of Tai to put Patts through that.

I think the line, "If you don't understand my silence, then you won't understand what I will say," is absolutely unfair.

Tien: You Have Done Nothing Wrong and I Love You

I am with my good sis @shortpplfedup and Tien is the main person I feel sorry for. He has done absolutely nothing wrong, and he was absolutely correct when he told Lomfon off. Lomfon also needs to apologize to him, and I will not tolerate Tien doing any more work to fix these people.

gif by @ayan-sukkhapisit

He deserves so much better.

It Doesn’t Matter if You Broke It. You Can Fix It or Make Something New

As @shortpplfedup said to me in a side chat, “If you can break a soulmate connection then you can forge one.” I’m excited about Patts and Tai being apart next week as he heads back to his family and reckons with his choices and the implications for the world.

More than anything I want to take away form this episode, it’s that our lives do not play out like romance novels and we have to appreciate that our actions have consequences that impact other people’s lives. We cannot treat everyone else, especially our partners, as side characters in our lives. Tai and Lomfon’s biggest mistakes this episode are in their selfishness and lack of regard for others.

Both Tai and Lomfon need to do the work of repairing what they’ve broken this episode. It’s okay for them to have to do that. Gay people are not required to be perfect. What we need to do is be kind.

[starsofmilos]

The Five Times (Adrian Chase x reader)

Synopsis: The five different times Adrian proved he wasn’t like your toxic ex.

So I’m in need of some fluff and smidge of angst and this came to me last night and I immediately whipped out my laptop and got to work! I hope y’al like this and these are experiences of mine. I know not everyone is the same, but this kinda my coping mechanism. 

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of past emotional abuse, mentions of trauma, mentions of toxic relationship, angst, fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of pressuring to have sex, insecurities and mentions of weight gain

Adrian Chase was deeply in love with you.

He always made sure to say it at least once a day and he always made sure to prove it in anyways he could. 

But there were five times you could pinpoint that he truly made you feel loved. Even though he didn’t directly say it those times. 

Number One

The relationship was still new at this point. Adrian came over to spend the night as he had been doing for about a good month now. 

You hummed as you brushed your hair gently trying to look as presentable as possible before Adrian showed up. Even though at the moment you’d rather do anything than do your makeup.

Groaning a bit, you grabbed your washcloth wiping your face. Would Adrian even care if you had make up on? 

‘I’d expect for you to put effort in your looks if you really want me to stay!’

Your ex’s words played out in your head as you grabbed your foundation pad. Adrian would care. Most guys do.

“Hello my love!!” You jumped hearing his voice ring through. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you tensed up once he walked in the room.

“There you are!” He approached you tilting your head back. You pouted a bit as he kissed your lips. Adrian hummed in content turning your chair around so your could face him.

“What are you doing? Why you putting on makeup? Did we have a date tonight?! I’m so sorry! Did I forget?! Oh shit! I didn’t bring nice clothing unless you count these stupid jeans here!”

“No! No!” You laughed a bit, “I was just putting it on so you didn’t have to see my stupid ugly face all natural.”

“Oh..wait! Your face is not stupid or ugly! Your face is very pretty!” He kissed you pulling you away from your makeup. 

“But I need to put it on-”

“Why though? It’s not like we’re going anywhere plus in all the time we’ve been spending together I noticed you get irritated having to remove it every night so come on! We have some cuddling to catch up on!” 

“You don’t like when I put on makeup?”

“No I do. I love your face with or without though and I can kinda tell you didn’t wanna put it on.”

“How could you tell that?”

“For one you were pouting and you usually never hesitate to do something unless you really don’t wanna do it.” You smiled a bit as he grabbed your face.

“Besides you look so beautiful right now and I just wanna lay down and watch some cartoons with you.”

“Can I put pajamas on?”

“We’ll put pajamas on together...Hey real quick though why did you think I’d care if you had make up on?”

“Well...to be honest my ex kinda did..had to make sure I looked presentable at all times so he could stay..glad he didn’t though you came along..”

“Yeah he sounds like a douche nozzle. I’m glad he left so I can show you that I don’t care how you look. You’re not getting rid of me at all. I mean at all. I just wanna make sure you are comfortable. If you wanted to never wear make up again I’d still be here.”

“Do you really mean that?..”

“Yeah. You are beautiful with or without make up and you should only put it on only when you want not because you think you need to please me. Now can we please watch the scooby doo live action movies and wear pajamas. I’ll order a pizza.”

You couldn’t possibly be more in love with him.

Number Two

It was going to be a great night. 

You friends birthday was today and she invited all of you for a small party at her place. Thing was she planned it last minute.

Fidgeting a bit, you cautiously approached Adrian as he washed the dishes. “Hey honey...whatcha doin?”

“I’m washing the dishes.” He laughed a bit turning around.

“You look nice...and smell nice..”

“Yeah..I was wondering if it’s okay with you my friend is having a last minute hang out for her birthday and I wanted to know if I could go? I promise to make it up to you! I’ll figure out a ride home in case I decide to drink! I-I just would really like to go-”

“Hey hey! Calm down! Of course you can go dude.”

“Really?”

“Yeah why would I say no? Go out with your friends have a good time.”

“Okay..” You smiled at him giving him a small kiss. “Do I look okay?”

“You kidding me? You look incredible. Also about what was said before if you need anything and I mean anything please call me. Be safe.”

“Thank you Adrian! I promise I’ll make it up to you-”

“You have nothing to make up to me buttercup. You also don’t have to ask for my permission to go out either you know that right?”

“Really?”

“Yes really. All you gotta do is let me know that you’re gonna go out with some friends. I’ll say that’s cool just keep me updated so I know you’re safe and to please send me your location. It’s like when I go on patrols.”

“Oh..I never thought of it that way..You sure you’re not upset with me?”

“I promise you I’m not. Now you should start heading out. Message me when you get there so I know you’re safe and call me if you do end up needing a ride.”

“Okay thanks Adrian! I’m gonna finish getting ready!” You cheered a bit running to the room. 

Adrian made a small promise afterwards to always make sure you felt reassured and safe enough to not feel the need to ask him for permission for simple things.

Number Three

It was your one year anniversary. Adrian had officially moved into your home and you had wanted tonight to be special.

So you ordered pizza and rented out his favorite movies for the night. Adrian was already home as you walked in carrying the pizza. 

“I’m home!”

“Oh hey!! I’m in the shower. Give me a minute and I’ll be out!” 

“Okay!!” You sighed a bit getting dressed in more comfy clothes looking around once you heard a small chirp.

It was Adrian’s phone.

Grabbing it, you tensed up once realizing what you were doing. Quickly dropping his phone you backed away from it feeling scathed and guilt rise in your throat.

Why did you grab his phone and look at his messages? Adrian is gonna be so mad. They always are.

It was their business not yours.

“Y/N! You okay? You’re being kinda quiet!”

“Oh sorry!” You nervously replied. Hands fidgeting against your will, you groaned a bit knowing you needed to tell him.

“Adrian!”

“Yeah?!” Adrian peaked out behind the curtain seeing you enter the room.

“Your phone buzzed. You got a message. I’m sorry I touched it-”

“Oh! What did it say? Who is it from?!” 

“What?...”

“My phone? Who messaged?” You tensed up thinking the worse. Was he testing you? Was he was just waiting for you to do it to yell?

“Y/N? You okay? You look pale?” Adrian grew concerned turning the water off to step out.

Adrian would never do that.

“It’s Emilia she said your guys mission was moved to this Friday instead of next week.” You read off his phone quickly and anxiously.

Adrian hummed, “Oh okay can you respond back to her for me?”

“What?”

“I’m gonna dry up and change can you please respond back to her?” Adrian shot you a questioning smile.

“What would you like me to say to her?”

“Just type okay for me! Add a mermaid emoji!” Adrian approached you quirking an eyebrow as you tensed up. “Y/N?..You okay?”

“I’m sorry I touched your phone. I know it’s your business. I already let Emilia know, but if you’re gonna yell at me can you do it now so we could get it over with..”

“Woah woah! Yell at you? Why would I do that?” Adrian laughed a bit shaking his head. He planted a wet kiss on your cheek grabbing his shirt off the bed to begin dressing.

“Because I touched your phone?..”

“So what you touched my phone? Big deal. You’re allowed to do that Y/N. You can go through my phone anytime you want.” Adrian booped your nose walking around you to grab his sweat pants.

“I can...” He turned around seeing the uncertain small look on your face.

“Yeah honey you can..Are you okay?” You nodded looking away. Adrian shook his head grabbing your face to stare at you.

“What’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?” Adrian hummed waiting for your response.

“My ex..almost all of them would get angry if I so much as placed their phone somewhere else, but you just let me message someone and said I can go through it anytime I want.”

“Yeah you can..God I hate that piece of shit you dated. Look I have absolutely nothing to hide from you. Go through my phone anytime you want.” Adrian placed a small kiss on your pouting lips.

“You smell good.” You smiled as he pulled away.

“Thanks it’s your shampoo.” He grinned pulling you away. “Now let’s go relax.”

Number four

“Shit..” You groaned out feeling Adrian move his lips down your neck. 

Adrian moaned out grinding down onto you as he fiddled with your pant buttons. He kissed you once you grabbed his face whispering his name softly.

“Adrian..” 

Adrian glanced at your face for a small moment taking you in. His hands roamed along your sides sliding them under your shirt. “Yes honey..”

“I love this a lot, but I’m not really in the mood..” Adrian stopped his movements freezing on the spot.

“I’m sorry. I probably should’ve mentioned it earlier, but I just really wanted kisses and cuddles..”

“Oh..”

“Yeah..please don’t be upset! I’ll make it up to you! Or maybe if we can keep going I can get in the mood-” Adrian shook his head kissing you quickly to shut you up.

“You have nothing to make up for and we are not continuing if you’re not up for it.”

“But I’m your girlfriend. I know sex is kinda a big deal and I don’t want you to think I’m stuck up. Or think that I’m not interested in you. I’m your girlfriend I know I should be willing whenever.”

“You are not stuck up and I know this doesn’t mean you’re not interested in me. You’re allowed to not be in the mood” Adrian shook his head kissing your forehead. 

“Okay I’m sorry Adrian..”

“You have nothing to be sorry about..Who said anyways that you always have to be ready for sex!” Adrian tried to joke but grew quiet seeing your eyes grow watery.

His eyes darkened once he realized.

“I will never and I mean never pressure or force you to do anything you do not want. If you are not in the mood for sex, then we don’t have sex. Instead we cuddle and kiss just like you wanted.”

“But-”

“No more buts. You are my girlfriend and my equal half. I give you the respect you give me. My heart is yours. I think it’s always been yours and it breaks my heart when you think that I wouldn’t treat you in a way you deserve to be treated.” 

You felt a couple of tears fall down your face as you jumped up throwing your arms around Adrian. He smiled kissing you gently as you thanked him. 

“You deserve to be treated good and I promise I will always be the one to spoil you and be the one care for you.”

Number five

You groaned throwing down your clothes frustrated at the fact that what was once a cute pair of jeans now were a unwearable cute pair of jeans.

Your favorite pair couldn’t even make you feel better. Nothing felt right. 

“Fuck me!”

“Don’t mind if I do!” You screamed a bit throwing a nearby pillow to the door where Adrian stood.

“Nice..you do that to all the intruders or am I your loving boyfriend just lucky?”

“You’re the lucky one.” You smiled sheepishly as you turned back to face the mirror.

“I look gross...” You sighed dejectedly as Adrian approached wrapping his arms around your waist resting his head on your shoulder. 

“You’re not gross? You look just as beautiful as ever.”

“No..I just look bad..”

You gave Adrian a small pointed look. Adrian smiled running his hand down your sides. “You look great..”

“But my body feels bloated and I look weird and I gained some weight!

Adrian groaned, “There’s always a but with you! Most of the time they don’t even make sense! Who cares if you gained weight? Or if you’re bloated! I can reassure that you do not look weird.” 

“Don’t you care if I gained weight?”

“Fuck no! You kidding me!” Adrian groped your ass grinning as you jumped. “I love your body. I love it so much! I could care less if you gained weight or if you’re bloated. As long as you’re healthy and happy I do not care!” 

He lifted you up tossing you on the bed. “You say that now-”

“And I mean that now. Look Y/N I love you. I’m so fucking crazy about you that I don’t even understand it myself. I love you very much..”

“I know you do..I just worry sometimes I wanna be enough for you-”

“No shut up. In the nicest way possible shut up. You are way too good for me.”

“No I’m not-”

“Yes. Yes you are. You are so much better than me. You say you wanna be sure you’re good enough for me? Y/N I kill people for fun and fight aliens on a daily basis. I am a fucking busboy and nerd who still plays dnd but alone so no one judges me. You are way more than enough for me. You are everything.”

“I’m everything for you?..”

“Yes. Look you are my first love and the very first person I have ever said I love you too. I know you don’t have the best experiences with past relationships, but I am not those guys.”

“I know you aren’t..I’m sorry Adrian-”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Now let me finish.” He jabbed your sides causing you giggle. 

“I know I’m not your first I love you like you are mine. I know I’m not the first person you’ve ever caught feelings for again like you are mine.”

You laughed a bit as he kissed your cheek blowing a raspberry giving you a look of what you could only describe as adoration.  

“What I do know is that I would love and would do anything to be the last person you say I love you too. The last person to keep you happy, safe and loved. I know I don’t say it often enough, but I love you.”

“I love you too and believe me..you are and will be the last person I say I love you too..”

“Good...now get dressed and let’s go out for some of your favorite.”

“I hate you for being so good Adrian..”

“Well that kinda stings.”

“Shut up and kiss me dork.” He rolled his eyes kissing you softly.

“Since you insists..I mean it though if you ever feel insecure or you need me to reassure you then I will always be more than happy to do so.” You nodded grasping his face.

“Hey just to clarify..You’re my everything too..”

“Good..I will never let you go.”

There were five times that Adrian proved that he loved you. 

You have to say the fifth one and the day you got married were your favorites..

[thetwistedbeauty]

Okay, so we’ve relevantly seen through Sarah J. Mass that romance fixes everything in her books. Nesta needed healing instead she got dick, Feyre needed time to cope and instead she got … dick, let’s be honest it’s probably gonna be the same with Elain and Lucien even though Lucien is arguably one of the best men in Acotar. I want a Tamlin redemption that doesn’t involve romance or for that to even be the main point. I want him to find help perhaps from the remaining townsfolk and slowly rebuild the Spring court and if anyone tries to trespass then it’s their asses like he deserves healing and growth and to actually change things. But Sarah isn’t gonna give us this because he’s an abuser? Which I’m not saying he isn’t but why is Rhysand excused? Because he gave a half - assed apology and because he’s morally grey so pass? Why is Cassian excused when he verbally and emotionally abuses Nesta? Cause he’s such a lovable himbo? If we’re not excusing Tamlin then let’s not excuse everyone else who has done more questionable things? Feyre who has destroyed his court, Cassian who slaughtered a village, Azriel who spies and tortures people for a living, Amren who gaslights and manipulates laws to fit the High King Rhysand agenda and everyone who doesn’t agree must die, Morrigan who condemns the whole CoN because of her own trauma and wants to see everyone suffer there.

[alexbkrieger13]

M's newest column

Ive been thinking this week about Fifa’s plans to expand the Club World Cup and create a Women’s Club World Cup and wondering where the welfare of players ranks in their priorities.

At a time when we’re seeing so many serious injuries to top women players I found it alarming that they did not consult the leagues or the players. Instead, Fifa president Gianni Infantino just announced it out of the blue.

Fifpro, the players’ union, were right to complain about the lack of consultation. I’m all for new ideas but you have to think about the players. If you just add more and more games, there’ll come a time when it just becomes too much.

From my personal viewpoint, if Chelsea were to win the Champions League, I’d love to get the chance to play the best teams from other continents. I can also see the benefit of making the game less Eurocentric. However, you have to talk to the players’ union first.

As for a 32-team tournament for the men, the loading is already extreme for them and I’m intrigued to see how they cope when the Premier League returns on Boxing Day, just a week after the World Cup final and two weeks after England’s quarter-final exit.

When I think back to last summer after the Euro, it took me at least a week for my mind to stop playing back the images of all I’d experienced. For us, there was the trauma of losing a semi-final 4-0 and feeling humiliated. Emotionally that was tough and for three days I lay on a sunbed and tried to read a book but I just could not focus on the letters.

My head was still in the tournament, processing all I’d been through, and I needed at least 10 days to start feeling enthused about the new season. Then, when I went back into Chelsea, I had issues with tendinopathy – inflammation in my hamstring and achilles, which is the product of overloading. Every footballer has it somewhere once they reach a certain age, yet it was clear to me my body was struggling.

I’ve got friends in the Sweden national team who tell me they are still feeling fatigued from the Euro and the news this week about Vivianne Miedema’s ACL rupture – less than a month after Beth Mead suffered the same injury – only accentuates the need to give more serious thought to player welfare in the women’s game.

This isn’t just about Fifa either. We have so much to improve on regarding knowledge of women’s bodies and loading. At Chelsea we’re lucky as we have a big squad and they’re very good at monitoring load and thinking about physical and mental welfare.

However, only a handful of women’s clubs have it like this; few others can afford it. Before I came to Chelsea, I’d never worked with full-time physios, for example.

It’s just my hypothesis but I wonder whether women players might be less fragile if we’d received better medical attention early in our careers. It doesn’t help that all the research has been based on men’s bodies.

More women-specific research is required to understand how to train and load us. At Chelsea we’ve just taken part in a study by a woman who is scanning the feet of female footballers and collecting data about their foot shape, and this is what we need more of before Fifa start adding even more games.

I would also question the timing of women’s tournaments, which tend to run until late in the summer. Next year’s World Cup will start on 20 July and end on 20 August. It means you get a few weeks off before the tournament but you end up wanting to stay fit and doing some training on your own. It’s afterwards when you need the break and, as I’ve mentioned above, I don’t think two weeks is enough.

Ultimately, there are moments when your body says “enough” and I say this from personal experience. I look back to December last year when I suffered an ankle injury in a Champions League game at Wolfsburg, which ruled me out for three months.

In hindsight, I’m not surprised at all as I remember the way I felt in that period, just trying to get through games. With Sweden I’d got to the final of the Olympics the previous August but hadn’t had enough time to recover and then we had the challenge of the inaugural group stage of the Champions League, which meant more travel and more tough games.

I was tired and moody and just thinking, “When’s the break coming?”. I really feel my injury came as a result of that. I jumped and landed badly and damaged ligaments as well as sustaining bone bruising and a small fracture. It felt to me that my brain was simply too tired.

A year on, sadly, it’s my partner Pernille’s turn to be injured. Thankfully it wasn’t an ACL in her case but she had an operation on her hamstring last month and in the first few weeks afterwards needed help with everything, including putting on her socks and shoes. This is the personal cost that players face and it’s sad to see a loved one like that – yet another reason, therefore, why I feel so passionate about protecting my fellow players.

[aita-polls]

WIBTA for telling my girlfriend I cheated?

Okay so this is probably going to be a lot. People involved are me (24F), my girlfriend M (25F), our best friend A (22M), and our other best friend, A’s boyfriend, S (20M).

So. For background, we’ve all been friends for years and it was very much the four of us against the world. I met M first because we were roommates at college, and she knew A and S from our classes, who were already dating at the time, and introduced us. I’m a lesbian, S is gay, and M and A are bi. We’ve always been a very openly affectionate and sometimes sexual friend group, ignoring the fact that me and S never did anything because of our incompatible genders/sexualities. No one had sex outside of our partners, but we were definitely much more close than most friends, and casual making out etc. was a thing that happened between me, A and M quite often. It was always while we were in a group, never alone or without anyone’s knowledge. I was never attracted to A, again I’m a lesbian, but due to a mixture of just naturally lax boundaries and sexual trauma I don’t really see sex or sexual activity as anything sacred or meaningful so I didn’t mind messing around with A in that way for fun. We never explicitly said not to do anything alone, but we never said it was okay either, it was just never really a situation that came up.

So. This is where it becomes a lot. At the beginning of 2024 S was murdered. A and I found his body. The legal stuff is still ongoing obviously but the person responsible was caught. It was violent, random, and completely unprovoked. S was the kindest person any of us had ever known. None of us coped with this well. We’ve all always been very impulsive, emotional people, S was kind of the token responsible guy keeping us (occasionally) grounded even though honestly more often we were convincing him to join us instead 🥲

We all responded in different ways but none of them were good. A was a complete mess exacerbated by the fact that the last time he and S had spoken it had been an argument. I was just angry at the world and the only time I wasn’t sobbing or yelling I was drunk or high. M essentially vanished off the face of the earth for a month and ghosted us and didn’t talk to us at all.

I’m not going to offer excuses for what happened. I could say we were messed up, I could say I felt abandoned by M or assumed she’d left me, I could say we were coping, but none of that matters because what matters is A and I slept together. This was about 5 weeks after S’s death and M’s disappearance. It was very abrupt, kind of impersonal, and sort of just. “I need to do something and you’re the person here” vibes. I obviously was not actually attracted to him as a man, but I just didn’t care who it was in that moment and I gather neither did he. I had followed him into a sort of out of the way campus building people don’t use much because he was very fired up and upset, we talked about S and M and how fucking devastating and enraging it all was, he just grabbed me, and it went from there. We were both very dissociated throughout it and agreed it wouldn’t happen again.

A few days after this, M got back in contact. She apologized for disappearing and said she was coping in her own way and needed isolation but that it wasn’t fair to us. She said she wanted us all to put everything that had happened since S’s death behind us and not talk about it because she assumed we had all done things we weren’t proud of in grief and that she didn’t want us to dwell on them. She just wanted us to heal together and stick together from now on.

We agreed but I felt fucking awful. I spoke to A about it after this and it was complicated further by him admitting that he had been attracted to me since the day we met and that this was part of how fucked up his emotions felt because he was full of guilt both for feeling that way and for arguing with S before he died. He said S had been aware of him wanting me and had been relatively fine with it but that it wasn’t an outright crush, he didn’t have romantic feelings for me, it was just physical attraction paired with us being close friends and him trusting me. I reaffirmed that I’m a lesbian and am not genuinely attracted to him like that and that I love M and want to be with her, and he said he completely understood and that he was still in love with S. We both agreed it had been a grief thing for us and only happened as a result of our mindsets and emotional states in that moment.

However I still feel horrifically guilty for not telling M. Part of me thinks she’s guessed something happened and that’s part of why she said to forget anything we’ve done, but I don’t know if that’s just wishful thinking to weasel my way out of confronting it. A very firmly believes I shouldn’t tell her both because of her wishes and because he thinks since it didn’t mean anything it would ruin our relationship for nothing. But I still feel that it was a huge betrayal and that my confusion at her disappearing and my grief doesn’t just mean I get to pretend it didn’t happen.

Everything is still so fresh and we’re still trying to cope, and we haven’t even gotten to the trial and facing him yet. Sometimes I almost go to tell her and it feels like she knows and changes the subject so we never get the chance. But I don’t know if I’m just making things up. Would it be a bad idea to keep pushing and just sit her down and tell her straight up, should I wait until we’ve all moved on a little more, or should I just shut up about it forever?

[cavityinmybrain]

hi sysconversations, there are some things i want to talk about in relation to plurality but i dont know how to get the conversation started. so im gonna bulletpoint some of the things here lol

- learned helplessness affecting the system. i struggled with learned helplessness a lot worse when i was younger, and i’ve found that dormant parts from middle school often reappear with the learned helplessness i had previously.

- coping skills and how they vary across parts. some parts are very sensory focused (five senses, describing sensory inputs (usually scents), etc) while others are better helped by distraction (talking about shows/movies, playing games, etc.). usually our girlfriend helps us when we need it and it’s almost like a guessing game of which coping skill will help the most.

- traumaversaries that dont have a specific day. we’ve got multiple traumaversaries that arent a single day and are instead a period of time for specific parts of our trauma. example, trauma relating to our bio dad coming up around summer vs trauma relating to our step dad coming up around winter. its hard to relate to others discussions of trauma anniversaries when ours are more closely associated with the season/holidays than any set day.

- fragmenting and refusing. oftentimes, when we are under heavy stress, we will “split” new parts that i believe are just fragments. they usually feel like a copy of host!cav and when whatever stressor triggered them to be split is dealt with they fuse into cav. (most recently was around when kip split)

[clairdeluneeeeee]

Perfectly Imperfect - An analysis of Mari and her portrayal in the Manga.

It’s no secret that the new manga has been a hot topic of discussion ever since the first chapter was released.

I, myself, harbour very mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I’ve really enjoyed the way some parts were arranged to make the story more entertaining to follow, together with how some secondary characters got more compelling motivations behind their actions and better development (primarily Kim), on the other, I can’t ignore the strange pacing and the way some of the main characters were portrayed.

I’m not going to expand on this point further, given that we’re still on chapter three and I need to see how things will turn out from now on.

However, there’s a character in particular who gained my curiosity, specifically right after the second chapter came out. I’m talking about Mari, the “muse” of the story herself.

Under the cut, I will analyse further the possible reasons behind some writing decisions concerning her, and I’ll try to make some predictions over how things may go in future chapters.

Keep in mind that this post is not spoiler free, so, uhm, MAJOR SPOILERS under the cut about both Omori the game and the manga.

Right from the beginning, Mari is presented as a rather strange figure, surrounded by an aura of mystery, even more than she was in the game.

The manga starts off with coloured pages featuring every single main character during their youth. Except for Mari. The only page in which she isn’t in black and white is the initial one, and in that one, her face is being obscured and we can’t really see her expression.

Furthermore, once Mari introduces herself, everything suddenly turns grey, like if she stole the colours from Sunny’s peaceful world.

As we’re already aware of, the manga begins on a total different note than the one the game started with. Instead of reassuring us with a playful and childish world, we’re thrown in the middle of its psychological horror elements right off the bat.

We see Sunny’s most prominent core memory: the day his friends gifted him a violin to allow him to play alongside his sister, Mari. A joyful moment that will turn out to be the beginning of a tragedy.

So, our first impression of Mari isn’t the protective and kind older sister that Sunny idealises in his dreamworld (like she was in the game), but that of a pushy, perfectionist individual who wants to keep everything under her control. Basically, the embodiment of Mari’s worst traits, something that Sunny is trying to suppress due to the way they’re directly connected with the accident.

Here Sunny is experiencing a flashback. Mari’s words look like a distorted version of what she may have said to Sunny during their argument on that day. Desperately, she’s trying to understand why he would waste the thing they all worked so hard to get him, confused and angry at her dear little brother for ruining everything, rendering all their efforts useless.

And then, Sunny wakes up, and Mari is nowhere to be found.

Next time we see her, it’s her dreamworld-self, eager to help us and ease our fears. However, here the way we’re meant to feel towards her is reversed.

We’ve already seen Mari’s “dark side”, so we’re more than aware that this “perfect girl” isn’t totally loyal to who she was as a person.

She’s described as the “glue that holds everyone together”, foreshadowing the reason why the friend group fell apart after her passing. Without her warm smile and attempts to make everyone get along, the kids grow more and more distant, forgetting the special bond they all shared with each other.

Now, chapter 2 is where we get more interesting pieces of information about the dreamworld version of Mari, more specifically, the impression she left behind and how Sunny highlights her positive traits in a desperate attempt to run away from his trauma.

For anyone who is familiar with the game, this is nothing new. We all know about Sunny’s coping mechanism and how this affects his headspace.

However, what I found fascinating is the contrast that was built between the dreamy version of Mari, and her real world counterpart.

When she gets talked about there, she almost feels like an haunting presence. Someone that came back from the death just to disrupt the others’ (and in particular, Sunny’s) peace. Despite this, when Sunny closes his eyes and gets transported in another dimension, he can still relish the warm and caring side of his deceased sibling’s personality.

Mari is seen as perfect, someone who is good at everything and can do no wrong, to a degree where she stops feeling like a human being, and instead turns into an idealised individual with little to no agency.

The characters give long speeches about how Mari is unique and special, they idolise her, to the point where they feel less like her dearest friends, and more like fans of hers, who know her superficially because of the image she built upon herself, and not for the complex and nuanced human being she actually is.

Of course, this is just Sunny projection this belief in his imaginary world. I do not believe that the other characters saw her in this manner, at least definitely not Hero, and I’m also 100% sure that even Sunny didn’t have such a distorted view of her when she was still alive. This is just his twisted way to cope with the grief.

Another thing that I feel like it’s important to note, is the way Mari acts so meek and defenceless.

This is already explained in-game as Sunny’s way of protecting her from “anything that could possibly harm her once again”. But here, I feel like we have a really interesting scene that expands on Sunny’s guilt and his desire to pay his sister back for all the good she did to him.

When Boss is holding Basil hostage, he starts harming his friends in an attempt to get revenge since they didn’t invite him to their party. In the heat of the moment, he even goes after Mari, who is incapable of fighting back due to her bad knees. That’s when Omori steps in, defeating Boss and saving her life in the process.

Omori’s final strike is enough to bring Boss to finally give up, and for a moment, he’s able to come across as Mari’s hero.

Mari, who is nothing but a sweet and pure angel, the person who sacrificed so much for his sake. She helped him in more than one of occasion, she literally was the reason why he didn’t lose his life drowning in the lake. And yet, he kept failing her, by being a failure, by not being good enough for her. This probably caused him to develop an inferiority complex of some sort, which only got worse once they started practicing together. No matter how much he tried to meet his sister’s standards, he simply couldn’t, the pressure was too high for him, and playing the violin wasn’t even his biggest goal or passion. This eventually will bring resentment to build inside Sunny’s heart, and he’ll end up snapping at her, causing the catastrophe of Omori to ensue.

Mari and Sunny loved each other deeply. They cared about the other’s feelings and wanted to see their sibling succeed. Yet, their bad communication was what ruined them in the end. Sunny refused to tell Mari how he really felt, both because he always had major problems communicating his thoughts, but also because he really didn’t want to disappoint her. Mari wasn’t aware of any of it, and she assumed that his brother was fine with their practice routine, when in reality, the pressure of it was becoming too much to handle, and he ultimately couldn’t take it anymore.

This single event will forever plague him, and I think that this simple moment truly shows it in the most heartwarming way possible. If his existence only hurt Mari when she was still alive, at least here he can be the person she looks up to, who protects her and tries to keep her happy. He may have been the reason why she tragically lost her life, but at least here, in the darkest corner of his brain, he can be the one and only who allowed her to survive.

This is also why Mari always looks so physically fragile. She gets exhausted easily and can’t go much further from her picnic zone, so Omori must be the one to take on the role of her protector.

Thing is, none of this can be healthy in the long run. Sunny can’t keep treating Mari as a flawless individual, demonising himself in the process, he needs to come to terms with the fact that they were both two very flawed people who ended up hurting each other, but their faults don’t inherently make them irredimibile, either, and the chance to forgive themselves and one another is still there. Only once he’ll realise this, he will be able to let go of his past.

He needs to see Mari as neither an haunting presence who wants to punish him for his sins, nor a perfect creature who’s incapable of any malicious thought.

The two Maris need to coexist to give a more balanced and realistic portrait of who the girl actually was.

The game already does this masterfully, but I truly hope that we will get more flashbacks featuring RW Mari, stuff that will allow us to come to a more three-dimensional conclusion of her character.

So yes, in conclusion, while I’m disappointed with how certain characters got portrayed, Mari is not one of them, and I’m truly eager to see more of her in future chapters.

[go-go-gadget-autism]

guys i am actually falling so hard it’s crazy. not to be silly and in love on main but hoooly shit. he’s got me kicking my feet and giggling. he’s got me laughing at every joke he says. i’m smiling like an idiot the whole time i’m on the phone with him. we’re jokingly married and make sex jokes despite not being together. we’ve met in person only 3 times. he’s autistic. i’m autistic. we’ve already opened up about trauma and we’ve bonded far faster and harder than we have with anybody else. we call each other pookie. he is so sweet in his own weird little unique way and he also thinks he’s unworthy of love. i wish i could show him how much i care, because holy fuck. unfortunately i don’t think he feels even a fraction of this !! but henry if you see this even though you don’t have tumblr, i love you. you’re amazing and you actually light up my day whenever i see a text from you or an incoming call. i made a spotify playlist to cope with all of these feelings and oh my god it doesn’t help but i just need to get this out there somehow. fuckkkkk i’m falling harder than a skydiver who brought the wrong parachute

[queen-of-the-avengers]

I Already Have

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: aftereffect of trauma with hydra, facing up to zemo, angst

Request by anon: Wat happens if zemo and vixen meet face to face this time she has earplugs that she can tune zemo out if he dares to activate her .

Summary: Your therapist suggests writing letters to help you cope with your trauma, and you'll try anything at this point. The last letter is to Zemo, and you're not even sure where to start. That is until Bucky says he found him. Why write it when you can tell him how you feel?

Squares Filled: science experiment (2022) for @avengersbingo

Cat and Mouse Masterlist

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Per the instructions from your therapist, you’re writing every little apology and feeling you have for hundreds of people. You have one hundred years of things you need to apologize for. For some, it helped get some of the weight off your shoulders because you’ve addressed them to living people. It’s gonna take a lot more than writing letters to the dead to make you feel better, but you’re trying.

You finish with the letter you’re writing and seal it in an envelope for no one to open and read. There is one more letter you need to write, the most important one of all: Zemo. You grab a new piece of paper and start to write but pause. What are you going to say that will measure up to how you’re feeling? He took so much from you and turned you into someone that you hated. How can you ever find the words to say?

If you can get this letter done, then you would have written down everything you needed to say. However, you can’t seem to put the pen to the paper.

Bucky and Steve walk in and see you at your desk staring at the paper. There are about fifty envelopes on the desk behind you just haphazardly thrown about.

“She’s been writing non-stop this entire week,” Steve whispers to Bucky. “We’ve burned about two hundred letters already.”

“She needs to get it all out no matter how many letters that take.”

“I can hear you. I have ears,” you sigh and put your pen down.

“How many more letters do you have left?”

“One more. It’s for Zemo but I don’t know what I want to say. I feel like putting words on paper isn’t enough to express how I feel about him. I want nothing more than to punch him in his face.” Both men are silent so you turn to them with an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“You might get that chance,” Bucky says.

“What do you mean?”

“We found Zemo. His hiding spot is in Siberia in the old base where we were kept.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

You grab your coat and are about to leave the room when Steve stops you. He grabs your upper arm gently and keeps you from leaving the room.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“We want him but we don’t want him dead.”

“I’m not gonna kill him,” you roll your eyes.

“If he says your trigger words you might.”

“I didn’t spend two and a half years at Wakanda for fucking nothing.” You yank your arm out of Steve’s grasp. “The words are free from my mind. It worked. Shuri tested it and double-tested it. You guys have nothing to worry about. I’m fine. Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”

You, Steve, and Bucky are going to be the only ones on this mission. There is no need for anyone else to come, but Tony and Wanda are on stand-by if you need them. There is a place not far from the Siberian base where Wanda and Tony can hang out just in case, but you don’t feel like you will need them. You three step inside the base and memories flood your mind like a tidal wave.

This place is Hell. This place is torture. This place is your enemy.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks when he sees the look on your face.

“I’m good.”

After a few moments, you walk further into the base. You know this place like the back of your hand. There isn’t a crack or crevice that you don’t know. After being here for years, you got good at finding new hiding places even though they always found you. Steve has his shield to protect himself, Bucky has his specialized gun that he goes nowhere without, and you have a gun gifted by the King of Wakanda. He must have given it to you out of pity or so you think so.

Bucky and Steve take the lead all the way to the main room of the base where most of the training was done. The capsules Zemo and the other Hydra soldiers kept you in still stand tall with the yellow liquid still inside it.

“Добро пожаловать, мой маленький голубь,” a voice crackles over the intercom.

Welcome, my little dove.

You turn around and see Zemo inside a metal container with a glass window where scientist often resided when they did their science experiments. Steve throws his shield at the contaicner as hard as he can but it doesn’t do any damage. The shield comes right back into Steve’s hand as if he controls it telepathically. Zemo laughs at Steve’s attempt to hurt him, and you walk closer to the container. He smirks at the look on your face since he believes you can’t reach him in here.

“Come out and face me like a man, you coward.”

“Why would I when I’m safe in here?” You look for a way to get inside. There has to be something that can work. “Good luck trying to get in. The Soviets made it to withstand the blasts of a hundred rockets.”

An idea pops into your head and you smirk. You raise your Wakandan weapon and take three big steps back.

“Can it withstand against Wakandan technology?”

The last thing you see before the explosion is Zemo’s wide eyes filled with fear. You, Bucky, and Steve duck down behind something to protect yourselves from the sharp debris. Dust covers almost every inch of the place but you’re not letting Zemo use this chance to escape. You walk through the dust to where Zemo is, and he is doubled over, coughing, and trying to catch his breath.

Your weapon makes a loud noise when you drop it to the ground causing all three men to look at you once the dust clears.

“Кровопролитие.”

Bloodshed. You stop walking when you hear your first trigger word. Are you gonna succumb to his voice or are you gonna keep walking? No, you’re not going to let him win. Not this time. You take another step closer to him and he takes one step backward.

“Восемнадцать.”

Eighteen. You take another step. Эхо–echo. Another step. Гибкий–flexible. Another step. Безрассудный–reckless. Beofre he can get to the sixth word, you’ve reached him. He starts to say the sixth word when you grab his throat tightly and raise him to your level. 

“I’m not your bitch. Those words don’t work on me anymore. I could kill you right now.”

You tighten your fist around his throat and he starts to claw at your hand. He’s drawing blood but you don’t care about that. All you care about is killing him despite you telling Bucky and Steve you weren't back home.

“Y/N, that’s enough,” Steve says from behind you.

He’s right. If Zemo is going to die, you’re going to make it hurt. You punch Zemo as hard as you can in the stomach and toss him off to the side like trash.

“That’’s for taking me from my home!” you yell at him. You run at him before he can catch his breath and punch him in the face so hard that his nose cracks. “That’s for experimenting on me!” Another punch. “That’s for breaking me down and turning me into a killer! I’m nothing like you say I am.” Another punch. “That’s for Bucky.”

You beat Zemo so much that his face is swelling, blood is spattering on your own skin, and the skin on your hands are breaking. You rear your fist back to deliver a final blow when someone grabs it. You look behind you to see Steve and Bucky standing there.

“That’s enough, Y/N. You said you wouldn't kill him.”

“It’s never going to be enough,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“The best revenge is letting him watch you live your life and prove to him that you’re not Vixen.”

You yank your arm out of Steve’s hand and turn to Zemo who is looking up at you with one swollen eye. You spit in his face angrily and he flinches from the impact.

“I hope you rot in Hell because I’m done thinking about you and fearing you. It’s time you fear me.” You lean down to get closer to him. “I want you to live your life knowing that I’m watching you. I want you to know that I’m right there behind you ready to take you down. You want to know the best part?” You lower your voice to a whisper. “You won’t see me coming.”

You get up and walk away from all three men.

“УБЕЙ МЕНЯ!”

KILL ME!

You don’t stop walking but turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, and you smirk.

“У меня уже есть.”

I already have.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Chapter 40: Hopes

We’ve made it to 40 chapters! I can’t believe all the love and support Heat has received. For the special occasion, I made a moodboard in honor of what’s being affectionately dubbed ‘Narcos: Puerto Rico’ ☺️

And now, for the big showdown you’ve all been waiting for~!

🚨**There’s a big reveal in this chapter!**🚨

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 20,000+

Summary: The confrontation months in the making is foisted upon you. Will there be anything left to salvage after?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions oral (f receiving) and of unprotected sex. Mentions of diet and food habits, exercise routines, angst, past trauma, resentful anger, physical acting out and emotional turmoil. Allusions to toxic behavior, negative coping mechanisms, recurring relationship tropes, sexual frustration and judgment. Harsh!OFC, Remorseful!Javi, Needy!Javi, and Angry!OFC. **OFC name reveal** In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 39: Longing

Chapter 40: Hopes

Needless to say, your morning is highjacked by the news of Javier's portentous return, and you end up spending what little time you have before the big meeting briefing Devon on everything.

As you disclose to him what conflict of interest you have in dealing with the newly appointed DEA SAC, the usually congenial, kilowatt-smile having, six-foot-four teddy bear of a man looks the most serious you've ever seen him.

"Um…no disrespect, but everyone in the embassy heard about you two, and it sort of got around far beyond there, so I think the conflict of interest might be the least of your worries," Devon tells you and fidgets nervously in his seat.

With a forlorn sigh, you nod, and retort, "Which is why I'll need some time to think about what this will mean professionally for my post here. That's why I'm hoping in the interim, you could be the liaison with the DEA during any occasions where we'd have to interface directly with the SAC—"

"I don't think he likes me very much, though," he apprehensively grumbles, expression etching with tension at the prospect of having to be in Javier Peña's crosshairs.

Primly, you fold your hands over the desk, and muse, "Trust me, Devon. Javier Peña has no issue with you, or Noreen. Frankly, he'd be a hypocrite, and by that same token…so would I."

Frowning, Devon shakes his head. "I don't believe that. No one does. But he's intense and he unnerves me," is his honest retort, and you smile so brightly at that, that he hedges, "I mean, I'll do whatever you need me to!"

"I know you will. And he'll be on his best behavior with you. I'm sure of it," you tell him, thinking to yourself: Because if he isn't, I'll boil him alive—

"Good. I'll go and get everything ready for us then," Devon remarks before getting up and hustling to his meeting prep.

Sighing, you decide you need to break your coffee fast to get through the day, so you go downstairs to the on-site cafeteria to get some brewed courage to forge on.

You don't expect to walk out towards the main corridor and almost jump at the boisterous call of your name.

Turning, you scoff and shake your head amusedly when you spot the two swaggering partners coming over to greet you.

"Well, well, well – Nic Lopez and Shay Duffy. What're you two degenerates doing here?" you ironically chime as you smile at each and put your hand on your hip when you quirk your brow irreverently at them.

"Still a ball-buster, eh?" Agent Duffy snickers as he gives you a platonic kiss on the cheek hello.

"Of course," you singsong as you kiss Agent Lopez on the cheek, quipping, "Nice to see you two can't quit each other."

"Trust me, I've tried," Duffy jibes, earning a friendly punch on the shoulder from Lopez.

"Well, I'm glad you guys will keep busy here," you remark and sip your coffee.

"That's what we hear," Lopez remarks before checking his watch. "Shit, we gotta go report in. It was great seeing you again—"

"Yeah, and we'll be sure to report in to tech duty soon, sass-master!" Duffy cuts in brashly before shaking Lopez on the shoulder to tow him away comically. "See yah around!"

You chuckle and wave them off before resuming your return to your department's floor.

Meanwhile, Javi is rushing through his morning routine in the new space, pulling on his tie and working it around his shirt collar as he shoves his sock-clad feet into the nice and polished leather loafers that matched his dark brown belt. The bedroom was cluttered with his moving boxes and luggage, so he maneuvered around the chaos to sprint out to the living room and grab his wallet from the coffee table.

The sound of a car horn blaring out front in his narrow open-air marquesina had him growling as he rushed to grab his keys and other contraband he needed to pocket onto his person before snagging his light gray blazer and shrugging it on as he hustles to the front door.

Laying on the horn for good measure, Steve barks out of the open driver's window, "We're gonna be late, Jav!"

"Fucking hell, I'm locking up!" he shouts over his shoulder as he figures out the keys for the deadbolt locks to his front door and pats his person to make sure he didn't forget anything. "Keys, phone, wallet…shit. Hold on, I forgot my badge!"

Groaning, Steve drags his palm down his features impatiently while Javier unlocks the door and hurries back into the house. "Idiot. He's a completely flustered idiot…"

A few minutes later, and Javi is rushing around to the passenger's side and jumping in.

"So, this meeting'll be all the department heads, and their assistants. I haven't got an ASAC yet, and yours doesn't come in until Monday, so it'll be you and me reppin' today," Steve is telling him as he drives out of the neighborhood a few minutes later after he lets Javi get unflustered.

Javier is thankful for the distraction of hearing all the procedural crap that'll be taking up his first day. It stops his mind from panicking on what will happen when he sees you for the first time since he'd made a fucking ass out of himself on your doorstep.

"—It's standard protocol for each of us to have a driver. We'll be meeting 'em after the inter-agency thing. They're both newly-minted rookies from the Hato Rey barracks. While they haven't seen much action as cops, they know the island like the back of their hand, so one less hassle – trying to figure out our ways around," Steve is telling him as he makes it through the metropolitan traffic and onto La Avenida Chardón where the U.S. Courthouse and Federal building are.

It's an impressive campus from the avenue. Security is tight, but not as imposing as it'd been at the embassy in Colombia, and there was a mix of civilians, local and federal officials milling through the different buildings that flanked each other on the sprawling flat terrain. The U.S. courthouse was the bigger of the buildings, standing front and center. The FBI and ATF had their offices on floors near the top of the building. On the left of the courthouse was the newer Federal building that housed DOS and DOJ operations offices. It looked like a gleaming bar thanks to all the windows and the bright early afternoon sun glinting off the glass.

After a stop at the security office, Javier got his credentials for accessing the campus and several restricted areas of the building, and Steve murmured the lay of the land as they headed through the sleek lobby towards the interior corridors. For now, the DEA would be operating on the second to last floor of the building until their field office near San Patricio Plaza was ready for them.

Once they were in the elevator, Steve turned to Javier, and with a gesture towards the button to the last floor up, he'd given him a look that communicated, 'This is the floor she's on.'

His heart skipped a beat despite himself.

As they were getting off the elevator onto their floor, Steve was telling Javi about the other agency heads he'd already met.

"—ATF is cool. The guy has a lot of experience working dual-ops. FBI guy is another story," he mutters as they get to their department's entry. "Oh, and yes – everyone knows."

Javi doesn't even need to ask.

Spencer had all but crowed interestedly about how it was pretty common knowledge the last time he'd met with him, and told him not to be shy about using it to his advantage if he had to. It had made Javi's skin crawl, and if that's how he'd felt, he could only imagine how you felt about it.

After settling into his office, Javi and Steve met with most of the staff in the conference room. Everyone seemed eager, but experienced, so he felt at ease about that.

But when he and Steve finally went up to the big conference space where the inter-agency meeting would take place, he could feel all the looks sear into him.

Everyone in the room made it a point to introduce themselves, though, and the smug smiles and compliments did nothing to soften the recrimination that hung in the air.

However, when it was a minute until the meeting was due to start, Devon, Ellis, his deputy Kelsey, and you, walked in, and the tension in the air shifted.

After all, everyone else in that room knew what happened to Bill Stechner, and were not about to make an enemy out of you.

Watching you as you're politely greeting the officials sitting nearest you and Ellis, Javi holds his breath in anticipation of your gaze scanning across the long conference table to land on him.

You never look his way. Instead, you sit on the far end with Ellis, while Devon and Kelsey sit in the seats along the wall to take notes.

Once the CED comes in and kicks off the meeting, you are stoic and poised while introductions are made around the table. When it's Javier's turn to be introduced, you busily review something in your leather organizer. And when it's time for your introduction, you politely smile to the chief before nodding along to his comment about working seamlessly at an operational level throughout all departments.

You can feel Javier's gaze on you.

It boils your blood to be this close to him after so long, and not be able to jump up on the conference table and run at him in order to drop kick him into the carpet.

Still, even with your wrath seething on a slow burn, you'd appraised his appearance quickly when you'd entered the room.

His hair was longer than you'd seen it last, wisps begging for a finger-combing at his temples and at his sideburns. His clean-shaven face looked a lot more chiseled now, too, moustache perfectly trimmed as always, and shoulders broad as ever, but torso exuding even more definition under the better-fitting light gray suit blazer than you remember. Even his posture looked different, while his eyes were still those deep chocolate pools that gleamed chestnut under the sunny afternoon rays coming in from the windows. His collar was wrinkle-free, gold-and-blue jacquard tie straight and neat over his crisp shirt placket. You couldn't help noticing how even the top button of his collar was done, making it obvious how much effort he was putting into his appearance.

The last thing you wanted to do was sit there, itemizing all the ways he looked so fucking good, however.

So, annoyed, you'd kept your gaze from crossing his side of the conference room.

Mercifully, though, the meeting was more about pomp and circumstance this time around rather than real status updates, so once the chief thanks everyone, you're collecting your organizer and making a beeline for the door.

Glowering, Javier can't help feel disappointed. What did you expect, though?! She is in no way going to give you the time of day here…

"Agent Peña, Agent Murphy. You probably don't remember me, but—"

Snapping out of his internal admonishment, Javi acknowledges your deputy with a curt nod and drawls, "Sure I do." When the tall younger man blinks nervously, Javi outstretches his hand for a firm shake. It seems to relieve any awkwardness the other man had instantly, so Javi introduces, "Steve, this is Devon Williams. He used to work at the embassy in Bogotá too."

"Oh, that's great. Nice to meet you," Steve remarks as he shakes Devon's hand next.

"A pleasure," Devon remarks before detailing, "So, I know both your ASACs aren't in yet, so in the meantime, I wanted to let you both know I can set up any status reports you may need, and will be your point person on anything dealing with DIO's division."

As Javi and Steve chat with Devon – who also introduces them both to the deputy of the Telecommunications department, Kelsey Tate, you and Ellis were making a break for the elevator when the hot-shot FBI Special Agent in Charge called out to you from the wide corridor the conference room led out to.

"Shit, want me to wait?" Ellis whispers to you as the elevator doors slide open.

"No, it's fine," you sigh before quickly confirming, "So, pick me up at my place around 6 tonight?"

"Sure thing! See yah then," he chimes as he gets in the elevator, then presses a button to the floor his next meeting is on before drawling, "Good luck."

Politely and prim, you turn to wait for Anthony Bozzi to come over to you. The man was built like a strapping boxer, confidence hung like a winner's wreath around his strong shoulders, and his roguish features always had a bullish etch to them. They were chiseled and framed by his dark neatly-shaped beard. His thick hair was tamed back with gel, and his swaggering gait always gave you a Don Johnson vibe.

"What can I do for you, Agent Bozzi?" you chime professionally as he swaggers up and shoves his hands into his crisp-pleated black slacks.

"Ah, c'mon. Call me Tony," he huffs in his steely baritone with a charming smile before grousing, "I just wanted to thank you for getting Brenda sorted on that stuff."

"Oh, no need. I'm happy to help," you tell him, sensing this was just a ploy to strike up a conversation with you, so you begin to excuse yourself with, "Anyway, I won't keep you—"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you one more thing. Pardon my being nosy, and all," he cuts in, and at his prefacing, you begin to wonder if he'll have the audacity to say out loud what everyone in the building already knows. "But is it true your father is a Vice Admiral in the Navy?"

Totally having expected a different question, you sober and nod. With a wry smile, you confirm, "That's true."

While he goes on to tell you about how his own father had served in the Navy, you don't know that Javier is watching on from down the corridor.

"You should've called her, man."

Glaring over at Steve, who'd loped up next to him to impart that musing drawl, Javi mutters, "Who's that asshole again?"

Shaking his head amusedly, Steve retorts matter-of-factly, "That's Tony Bozzi, the Special Agent in Charge for the FBI. Don't let his friendly charm fool you. I hear he's a cutthroat motherfuck—"

"See you fellas at the party tonight!" the chief calls out as he swivels around them and gives a bossy salute as he goes.

"Party?" Javi mumbles and quirks a brow at Steve.

"Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention there's a 'Get to know each other and don't be hostile' happy hour thing at one of the nicer hotels later tonight," Steve responds, going on to suggest they drive over together.

But Javier's already stopped listening as he looks back at the elevator foyer that you'd been standing at to find you've already left.

Luckily for your temper, the rest of your day is so busy that you have no chance to seethe about Javier.

Devon told you how nice he and Steve were during your end of week debrief, so your rancor subsides, slightly.

By the time you're parking in your condo building's secure lot, you are wishing you could skip the happy hour, but know it'll only bring more unneeded attention. Taking the elevator instead of the stairs, you walk down to your corner, north-facing unit's door and unlock it tiredly.

You really love your apartment.

It has become your haven after all these months, and you find yourself lingering in the open-floor-plan space of your living room and kitchen as you divest of your purse while you click the answering machine to recite through any missed messages. The machine robotically announces the first message, and the time it was received.

"—Mija, I'm back from D.C. I'd like to see you. Maybe you can come over for dinner one of these nights? Give me a call back, as soon as you can."

Your father's voice makes you groan as you march down the hall to strip out of your work clothes and get ready for a quick shower. As you're tossing your blouse into the hamper, the machine announces the next message.

"—Nena, me and the girls are going to La Placita de Santurce tomorrow night. Wanted to see if you were up for going! Llámame."

Making a mental note to call Zoraida back in the morning, you're about to hop in the shower when you hear the machine announce there was one more message.

There's only dead air, as if the caller was mustering the courage to leave a message, before abruptly hanging up. The machine droned its end of message tone.

Huh, that's weird. You continue to undress, and once you're in the shower, your mind wonders, What if that was Javi calling?

Instantly livid, you rushed through the routine. By the time you reined in your temper, you wondered if it even could've been him. After all, you're pretty sure you'd only given Steve your cell phone number.

Discarding further thought about the matter, you went to your closet and picked out the outfit you'd been thinking about wearing. At first, you'd thought it might've not been appropriate for the happy hour, but after today? Oh, you'd make sure to look your best.

Meanwhile, as you got dolled up, Javier was pacing the corridor outside of the ritzy hotel ballroom.

The impulsive longing had him craving a double whiskey and a pack of cigarettes, but he'd be damned if he derailed months of gains for the fleeting taste of either numbing his senses.

No, he wanted desperately to be on his game when he finally managed to talk to you.

"Dude, you look like a creep, stalking up and down the hallway like this," Steve grouses at him when he comes back from the bar.

Grunting, he rubbed at the tension point between his brows as he muttered, "I feel like a fucking creep for being here…"

Frowning, Steve clapped his hand on his shoulder and nudged him along to enter the ballroom. "Listen, man. I don't think this is the best time or place for you to approach her," his partner is counseling as he directs Javi to the table he'd spotted as being the perfect exit out the terrace and swanky poolside bar. "Maybe just send her flowers or something?"

Javier can't help but snort gruffly as he drops into his seat, reminded of the last time he'd tried that maneuver. "Yeah, I don't think that'll work," he husks dryly as he sits back in his chair and stares around the glitzy room.

There's hors d'oeuvres set out along two banquet tables, appetizer nibbles consisting of an assortment of Puerto Rican fritters, and a bar on each side of the room that was serving only beer and wine. Clearly meant to be a networking happy hour, the room was filled with plenty of Federal building officials, as well as staff and executives from the Puerto Rico Federal Affairs Administration.

Twenty minutes into the thing, and after several meet and greets, Javier was anxious. Had he made a mistake by coming? Should he have just gotten your address somehow, gone there, and begged to talk to you before coming here? Should he wait and go there afterward? He didn't know what would be the best option, and the more he fretted, the more reticent he got.

While Steve struck up conversation with one of the ATF guys, Javi fanned his gaze over to where he'd noticed a couple of high-ranking officers from the Puerto Rican police force shaking hands with the CED and the FBI SAC he'd seen talking to you earlier. When he let his stare wander over to the entry to the ballroom from the hall, his eyes landed on you exchanging hellos with some of the officials from the public relations division.

His breath caught in his chest at seeing you in the killer white dress and patent leather nude pumps, hair full of volume and undulating in lovely waves that framed your face and cascaded down your back. Your rouged lips pulled into a chaste smile when you shook hands with what looked to be a comandante of the National Guard, and your lashes were curled in a way that it made your expressive eyes all the sultrier. It was all too much. He felt like he'd been hit by lighting and was now running several degrees hotter than normal.

And yeah, the fact he recognized that sinfully sexy Kathleen Turner-inspired dress from that damn movie only made his pulse race in his veins while heat pooled in his gut. Fuck…she's stunning.

He couldn't help fawn from afar. Not with how statuesque you looked in the timelessly sexy dress. The white of the delicate linen fabric accentuating your radiant complexion, the ivory satin buttons and the belt cinching your waist was a classy look, while the risqué-but-chic slit up the hem of the left thigh had several gazes lingering in your direction.

Of course, as usual, you seemed oblivious to it.

"Alright, kid. Just so you know, loverboy is sitting over by the terrace doors," Ellis is whispering into your ear now after he noticed Javier and Steve were present as he escorted you down to a table more towards the front of the room. "Whenever you're ready, say the word, and we're outta here."

Sighing, you sit and place your slim purse on the table so you can lean back in your chair and sip the sparkling wine you got from the nearest bar. "No, worst-case, I'll just grab a cab home—"

"Hey, signorina!"

You both turn to acknowledge Tony Bozzi as he appears to your right with a vodka soda in his hand as he takes a seat closest to you at the table-cloth-clad circular table.

"Agent Bozzi. Having a nice night?" you greet as he leans over to shake Ellis' hand.

"Hey, bud, would you tell her to just call me Tony?" he quips to Ellis.

"She's a stickler for keeping it professional, what can I say?" Ellis counters affably as he drinks his ginger ale.

"Booo, I'll just have to make her break her rules, then," Tony razzes before winking at you.

You peg him for being a brash guy who is putting on a more congenial veneer for your benefit, and you're not sure if that's because he's looking to be a get-over, a social climber, or something else.

While you all chit-chat about the people in the room, Javier caves at his need for liquid courage.

He goes out to the bar outside, and admires the melodic ebb and flow of the ocean just beyond the hotel's property while he's served a double whiskey, neat. Sure, it's helping quell his jealousy at seeing the barrel-chested, dark-haired and bearded man eye you like he was waiting for an in. But really, it's the burn of the alcohol incinerating his morose feelings that helps him not dwell on having to likely steal your affections away from some other guy and win your love again.

"There you are, Peña!"

Javi turns to see Ronald Mercer, the Chief Executive Director, approaching him.

"Evening, sir," he acknowledges before shaking hands with the man. "This is a much nicer setup than anything thrown at the embassy."

"I'm happy to hear. The Puerto Rican's are great hosts. Always friendly – and up for throwing nice parties," the man chuckles. "Listen, it's a big get to have you here. I was hoping you'd bear with me and let me introduce you to some of the officials from the Governor's administration? They're really keen on meeting the man who'll help them with their Mano Dura initiative."

Javier internally groans, but agrees to be the pet narco slayer – to be paraded to the officials, who fawn over what he did in Colombia and gush about being at his service if he were to need any help from the governor's office. He's heard it all before, of course, but he's charming and deferential, all while hoping he can maybe find a way over to where you're at, chatting with the people at your table.

But when the chief arranges an impromptu photo-op with the photographers that showed up from El Nuevo Día, Javi finds out too late in all the bustling about of the attendees in the room that he'd also corralled the other heads of departments to get in for one of the photos.

In the commotion of being roped over to the front of the ballroom, you didn't realize you would end up being just a couple of people away from standing next to Javier.

"Damas y caballeros," the photographer called out as he pantomimed for everyone to get in tighter for the shot. Swallowing all your acrimony so it wouldn't show in your stoic features, you stood tall and gave your best Mona Lisa smile while the man counted down before taking the photo. "Muy bien, y gracias a todos."

It was as your eyes readjusted after the camera's flash that you then smelled his spicy, warm musk as he sidled past the two officials who were chatting now while everyone else dispersed to return to the social networking around the room.

Before Javier could tap your shoulder, you walked off back to the table you'd been sitting at most of the night. Swearing under his breath, he was about to follow, when Steve signaled for him.

Once he crosses back to where his partner is, he gets pulled aside. "Hey, Connie just called me. She needs help getting the kids to bed," he tells him contritely. "You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah. I'll take a cab back to my place. Thanks," he assures Steve and pats him on the shoulder as they both head for the hall.

Agreeing to meet at Steve's the following afternoon so he could take Javi around the metropolitan area and point out places he'd already been briefed on, he gives him a hearty pat on the back and thanks him for all the help today.

Once he's seen Steve off from the impressive lobby of the hotel, he takes a beat to collect himself in the cool, air-conditioned space. Should he just give up? Call it a night and try again at some other point?

Frustrated, he scrubs his hand across his chin testily as he deliberates his options.

Figuring he at least needed to do another round in the room before he could leave when no one was looking, Javier turns to stroll back the way he came, when he looks over at the outdoor entry leading to the hotel's pool area and notices a silhouette of a white dress off in the distance, standing at the poolside bar.

Breathing a sigh of relief after being able to sneak away before Bozzi could try to circle back for another tedious conversation, you lean into the counter and smile pleasantly at the bartender while the soft breeze from the ocean caresses your dress and hair. Once he nods in acknowledgement, you gesture to a particular bottle of rum.

"Una Cuba libre, por favor," you're ordering, already retrieving the needed bills from your purse while the bartender makes your drink.

"Put it on my tab, please," a smooth baritone at your side instructs to the bartender in Spanish.

Your heart skips before your brain's able to fume at his fucking audacity.

Javier knows he's taking a risk. However, it seemed to be the best opportunity to approach you, thanks to the poolside bar being empty. So, he'd sidled up to the bar, downwind but next to you. Gaze guarded as he watched you order, and pining even more thanks to the sound of your melodious voice speaking Spanish. Not to mention from how the scent of your perfume on your warm skin heats his own blood. It's now or never.

But, before he is able to muster the words out loud to you – the ones that have been searing a hole in his chest for months, you snatch your purse up from the bar top, slap the bills you'd retrieved to pay for the drink down on the counter, and curtly order, "Please accept payment for the drink I ordered and nothing else."

Confused, the bartender tentatively places your drink down with a slow nod as you give him a pinched smile and snag the drink before turning to stalk away back to the ballroom.

Well, that went well. Annoyed with himself, he closes out his tab and stalks down to the terrace to enter the ballroom just in time to see you across the room back at your table.

Feeling exasperated, you chug your drink, daintily place it on the table, and give Ellis a clipped gesture indicating you were ready to leave.

"Shit, ok," Ellis croaks as he nods, and was on his feet by the time you rounded the table to exit via the hallway entry. He manages to gain on you when you turn towards the carport vestibule, and asks, "You sure you wanna leave like this, kid?"

"Like what?" you snap as you both exit the automatic sliding doors and head out towards the parking lot of the hotel.

"Like you're about to nuke a small city?" he tries to joke, but at your shoulders winding back imperiously, he amends, "Maybe it'd be better to just hash it out—"

"I have nothing to say to him."

"Ok, but maybe it would be good to hear him out so he can get it out of his system?"

"I don't care to," you hiss contumely at him, and Ellis' brows shoot up to his hairline, so you grumble, "Drop it, Ellis."

"C'mon, girlie. This isn't good for anybody—"

"I don't want to hear it, let alone deal with any of it—"

"Celina."

Pausing in your furious stride, you turn sidelong to stare guardedly at Javier.

With steel in his gait, Javi approached the short distance from the hotel's parking lot side entry, looking intent to speak to you while no one else is around out in the secluded lot from the main avenue beyond.

Having clearly seen you leave, he'd followed after as inconspicuously as possible, and had decided to gain on you both in the hopes that he could catch you before you left, but at seeing how speedily Ellis was trying to keep in step with your brisk stride, something in him had overridden his caution and spurred him to make his stand, here and now.

So, he unflinchingly walked over to you both until he was in front of you in the parking aisle nearest the barriers that overlooked the dark beach and ocean shore beyond.

His brown eyes were plaintive, and the overhead glare from the nearest lamppost cast him in a stark light.

Your eyes were blazing, expression a marble mask, but by the rigid set of your posture, he knew you were boiling over with barely-contained rancor.

Still, he just had to tell you.

"I know you're angry. I totally understand why you feel that way, and you have every right to be. I know there was so much left unsaid – not all of it great, but I need you to know that I meant everything I said to you that night," he rushes out in an impassioned baritone, hands at his sides clenching and unclenching nervously as he adds, "There hasn't been a day that's gone by where I haven't thought of you. That I haven't regretted how things were left between us. All I ever wanted was to make you happy – to protect you, but I failed and was too stupid to see I was just ruining what we had instead. I want to try to fix things – to win your trust back and prove to you that everything we planned was real. I still want everything with you, Celina. I love you—"

You slap him with all your furious might across his face.

The smack reverberates in the quiet, ocean-adjacent parking lot, and while your hand stings, it's not enough to chasten your pain as it has you unleashing in a vehement, exacting torrent, "You fucking manipulative bastard! How dare you say a fucking word to me after everything you've done, you son of a bitch?! 'I love you'?! You have the audacity to say such bullshit to me, after I haven't heard a fucking word from you in months?! It wasn't enough that you tore everything apart then?! What, you make it your mission to fucking drop back into my life out of the blue to make me feel like an insane, stupid idiot for ever believing a goddamned thing that ever came out of your fucking mouth?!"

Javier is stunned, the imprint of your palm scalding at his right cheek, eyes wide and woeful as he stands there, rendered mute.

You'd sensed Ellis flinch next to you with every venom-laced word you'd lobbed, and when you feel him gently touch your shoulder, you recoil away, withering gaze still fixed on your target and only becoming a wrathful glare now as you level Javier with, "Don't you ever come up to me again with any more of your puterías, you maldito mentiroso malparido!"

Then, clearly incensed and needing to get away before you hit true critical mass in your ire, you turn away and bark at Ellis, "I'm taking a taxi," before stalking away from them both.

In a state of shock and dismay, they watch you storm out of the parking lot to the bustling street traffic, where you flag a cabby down before getting into the backseat of the taxi to be driven away.

Completely nonplussed, Ellis turns back to look at Javi.

He sees a man torn asunder – utterly devastated by having hurt you so deeply than from having incurred your furious wrath.

"Shit…I, uh...you need a ride?" he finds himself asking while he fidgets in place.

When Javier just looks shellshocked and stares down at his feet, as if at a loss for what to do with himself, Ellis sighs as he taps his arm with the back of his hand before gesturing for him to follow as he rambles, "Alright, my car's over there. Just come with me before anybody comes out to see what the hell happened, or worse, that fucking Bozzi guy comes looking for her for a third damn time today."

Dazed, Javier follows, face flushed from suppressed emotion and pulse racing as his hearing gets fuzzy from how flustered, and utterly downtrodden he is, all at once.

It's an awkward drive out of the tourist district, to say the least.

Once Ellis manages to get Javi to tell him his address, and he is cruising on the highway for a quiet beat, though, he decides to throw the man a lifeline.

"Listen…she waited for you," he parcels out, careful with not speaking too much for you. At the stiff way Javier's shoulders press back into the seat, he sighs, confiding, "She never told me all the details. I was already gone by the time she decided to leave the embassy, but I heard her tell Anita she'd gone to your apartment, and when she found out you'd left, she held out hope that you'd come back. But, when you didn't…well, by then, she couldn't stay there, knowing what she knew."

His breath is ragged as he lets it out in a huff while he absorbs that.

Another heavy silence passes between them as Ellis drives on to take the exit into the downtown route shortest to get to Javier's gated neighborhood. He doesn't expect for the conversation to resume, and is about to reach for the volume dial on the radio to at least alleviate the tension with some music from the local classic rock station.

"I went back."

Hand returning to the wheel, Ellis glances over at Javier when he drags his palm down his face before cupping it over his mouth.

Shaking his head, he drops his hand listlessly in his lap, exhales, and unburdens himself with, "I went back, but she'd already moved out of her apartment – had quit and left the embassy, and it wasn't until I got back stateside that…anyway, I didn't know where she was, and no one I spoke to had her current contact info. It wasn't until a box with all my shit from her place got delivered that I knew for sure she was done with me…"

"She wasn't."

He turns to gawk at Ellis, who looks begrudgingly put out.

"Don't look at me that way, man!" he gripes as he turns off onto the avenue into the more residential area. "You think a woman would be that pissed if she didn't still care?"

Javi feels the ache behind his sternum subside as hope fills him up. Then he remembers how Steve had mentioned getting those missed calls back around the time you would've been leaving Colombia.

As if he can hear his loud thoughts, Ellis grouses, "She's a strong, fearsome one, and nothing made her angrier more than hearing what happened to you, and knowing that creep Stechner had been involved?" He grunts and scowls, pausing long enough for Javi to tell him the security code to engage the automatic gate to retract open since the guardhouse was vacant. Once he's driven through and let Javi gesture for the route he should take, he huffs a gruff sound. "Anyway…she wasn't done with you, and there was no way she wasn't going to eviscerate that guy for what he'd done," he pauses to shoot a sharp glare at Javi after he drives through the main entry to his neighborhood before turning down the block he'd indicated. Bitingly, he sneers, "Which, by the way, I'm super ticked off I had to find out via gossip what happened to her in Medellín."

Javier glowers. "She didn't want anyone to know—"

"I get her motives. Still…the fact that fucking prick had anything to do with it?! That he'd been harassing her the whole time? Did you know—?"

"I didn't until after. She had to talk me down from ripping that fucker's head off," he growls wrathfully.

Ellis grunts in agreement of the sentiment.

"Yeah, well…she always plays the long game."

At the flippant aside from the other man who was pulling onto the street his house was on, Javi's mind recalled something you'd said that had been a potential clue of that very assertion.

"…I have no qualms about making sure certain hostile forces get their comeuppance very soon…"

Astonished, he goes silent the rest of the drive that remained.

Meanwhile, you'd made it home much sooner, thanks to your condo building being just a relatively short drive from the tourist district of El Condado, and as soon as you paid the cab driver and exited the car, you'd keyed into the pedestrian gate and stomped your way through the frond-shaded-tropical-flower-festooned courtyard to enter the front lobby of the building. The night attendant greeted you pleasantly and informed you that your mailbox was full, so even in a snit, you'd thanked him, gone to your mailbox cubby, and unlocked it to retrieve the assorted bundle.

You were so angry still, though, that you took the long way up to your apartment, even though your muscles were still sore from the workout that morning, and your feet were killing you from the tall heels.

Ascending the stairs to the fourth story, you walked around from the south-facing side to traverse around the open-air walkway over to your doorway. The balmy night air sifting through the space did little to cool your ire – hand shaking as you opened your apartment door from the adrenalin rush of having blown your stack.

Once in your apartment, you locked the door, turned on the lamp by the side table where you drop your keys and mail onto, and stalk haughtily to your couch, where you sit and kick off your heels before cupping your hands to your forehead and lean forward to try breathing through your rage. So much for fucking de-stressing!

Your temples are throbbing, but after a few cleansing breaths, you manage to rein in your tempestuous anger and open your eyes to cast a tired glance about the perfectly cozy and appointed space before it lands on the little sideboard near the balcony doors, where you stored your booze away once you'd started your diet and alcohol fast.

Just as you get up from the sofa and begin to tiptoe along the cool tile floor towards it, your house phone starts ringing. Exhaling a groan, you turn and sprint to the narrow console table against the wall by the door where the cordless phone and answering machine sit.

Checking the caller ID, you grunt and answer the phone.

"Well, go ahead…tell me how immature and out of line I was," you grumble as you start to pace the space between your living room sofa and the console table.

"I'm not! I just wanted to make sure you got home alright," Ellis gripes, and you exhale, shoulders slumping as you hum.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, free hand absently combing through your hair as you keep pacing. "I just—I couldn't believe—ugh, never mind," is your growl before you center yourself and ask, "Were you able to get home right after without any more hassle?"

"Um…not right after, no. Actually heading to the house now," Ellis draws out, which makes you halt in your pacing. "I, uh, drove the poor bastard home…"

Outrage fizzles up quickly in you. "What?! Why?"

"Because! I felt bad for the guy, and he looked fucking miserable – the saddest, most heartbroken I've ever seen him, and I just couldn't skip away to my car and leave him in the parking lot looking like he was going to hop the barriers and walk into the ocean—"

The visual he's conjured is so pointed and harrowing that you feel a little lump catch in your throat.

"And anyway…I still think you two need to hash things out."

"Ellis," you grouse haughtily. "There's nothing to work out. N-Not…not after how I handled things tonight."

Your friend grunts neutrally before volunteering, "He was really broken up, kid."

Frowning, you idly wander the living room in a meandering loop as you murmur, "Not too broken up to have prevented it coming to this in the first place…"

There's a tense silence before Ellis sighs dramatically.

"He went back. But, by the time he got there, you'd already left."

Feeling like all your acrimony was doused and swept away with cold shock, you freeze and whisper, "He did…?"

"He poured his guts out, girlie. Really, I believe he didn't mean for things to have turned out the way they had. You guys just missed each other, like, literally – maybe by a couple of weeks—"

"Oh," you exhale in a reedy murmur, getting overcome.

Ellis seems to sense it, so, he aloofly informs, "Well, I dropped him off at DD-5 on Los Robles in that Floral Park neighborhood. Bet he'll be there, licking his wounds, maybe even crying himself into a whiskey bottle…"

Forlorn, you feel your heart ache at the thought.

Javier was not fairing any better, when he thought about how upset he'd made you.

After Ellis dropped him off, he'd shed his blazer and tie before dejectedly organizing the clutter of boxes in his bedroom to be against the wall and out of the way, at the very least.

He wasn't sure he should bother unpacking them.

The doubts that clawed their ways free had him questioning every decision, leaving him spiraling while he aimlessly walked through his two-bedroom, one-bath bungalow picking up after himself from the whirlwind rush he'd left in his wake that morning. The pitter-patter sound of the light drizzle that kicked up with the drop of a gusty breeze was thrumming against the metal crank windows as he wandered about.

The sound was quite soothing, helping him distract his mind from the roiling mess of his tempestuous thoughts.

Gingerly touching his cheek after tossing clothes into the hamper, he finds it's still tender, but not as hot as it'd been after your slap.

His mind flashes to how furious you were, and a pang wells in his chest before he can stop it.

It's replaced by the twinge in his stomach that has him huffing and kicking off his shoes into the open sliding door closet before he lopes glumly out of his room.

Having skipped partaking on any of the nibbles at the hotel, he wandered to the galley-style kitchen with the bar top counter that looked out at the empty dining room space and the living room beyond, in search for something to hold him over until the morning. While he went, he took the whiskey bottle out from the top cabinet next to the fridge and placed it aside on the counter before retrieving one of the bevel glass tumblers from another cabinet.

He was opening the pantry cupboard he'd hastily shoved the groceries he'd purchased the night before, grabbing a bag of plantain chips from the shelf, when he heard a knock on his front door.

Immediately going on high-alert, Javi left everything on the counter and approached the door cautiously. After peering out the vertical-stacked square block sidelight and seeing a familiar silhouette, he idly scrubbed his palm over his mouth tensely.

Unlocking the two deadbolts, he opens the door, and confirms it's you.

You turn towards the door and meekly stand there just sheltered out of the drizzling rain thanks to the concrete awning covering the front entrance stoop. He can tell you're warring with internal conflict by how creased your eyes are, and how your hand wrings around the strap of your purse hung on your shoulder.

After hanging up with Ellis, you'd felt so guilty that you'd rushed to put your heels back on, grabbed your day-to-day purse, and replaced all your important items into it from the slim one, grabbed your condo and car keys, then breezed back out the door. You didn't even take umbrage at the fact he strategically fed you Javi's address, even threw in the security code for the gate, because he knew you so well. No, you were glad for it, and used the drive over to regain your emotional grounding point and stamp down the upheaval of before.

As soon as you'd pulled up to the curb in front of the blue-and-white-painted cement house with the open-air carport garage and wrap-around backyard-and-side brick fence on the corner, you'd stared at the front door and warred with your emotions, however.

It had already started drizzling, so intrepidly, you decided you needed to get it over with before the heavier rain shower rolled through. At least that was the excuse to get out of the car and march up his front walkway to the door.

Javier's shocked, albeit cautious expression makes you frown, so you steel yourself and just get on with it.

"Look, I…I overreacted tonight. That was completely inappropriate, and I had no right to behave like that," you rush out in a firm tone, body language easing in rigidity when you see his shoulders relax and his tense features soften. "I'm—I'm sorry. I should've handled it better, and there is no justification for taking my anger out on you like that—"

"You don't have to apologize," Javi husks ardently before adjusting his weight onto his opposite foot in order to gesture with a nod of his head in invitation as he rumbles, "It's starting to rain. Would you like to come in?"

You hesitate, looking back as indeed the drizzle becomes a rainfall that doesn't look like will let up for a while.

Pressing your lips together, you idly comb your hair behind your ear before hedging, "I didn't come here to intrude, Javier—"

"You're not," he assures steadfastly, cautious about not being too pushy that it'll trigger you into wanting to leave, so he murmurs, "I appreciate that you came all this way. So…it'd mean a lot if we could just talk? I, uh, I'd like to try and, I don't know…"

At him grasping for the right thing to refer to it by, you sigh and coax reservedly, "To hash things out?"

Javi nods, relieved. "Yes—Yeah, exactly," he retorts in a raspy baritone before stepping aside and holding the door open for you.

Deciding to just stow your reluctance towards even being there – feeling the way you do – you accept his invite by walking in and wandering through the entry and into the main space. It's a sparsely decorated house designed in the current minimalistic, modern style that had become the rage in the early 1990s in the metropolitan area of the island. The kitchen was to your right, and the living room was straight ahead while a short hall to your left led to the laundry room and marquesina entry.

"Sorry, I don't have any rum. I just grabbed stuff from a colmado nearby last night," Javi is remarking as you take yourself to the living room and sit on the wide-cushioned gray sofa. "I, uh, know you're not a big whiskey drinker—"

"It's ok. I've actually been on a diet; a liquor cleanse," you volunteer as you place your purse on the light wood grain coffee table with the block legs. When Javi dithers by the bar top counter, you snicker and assure, "I've already broken my liquor fast for the night, so just a glass of water is fine."

He nods and quickly goes to grab the glass tumbler he'd left on the counter before getting the water pitcher from the fridge. Once he's got that and a glass of whiskey for himself, he comes over and hands the water to you.

Your fingers brush briefly as he sits in the retro-looking swivel chair adjacent you on the sofa. "Not very good at sticking to that stuff, I guess," he jibes in response, referring to you both ending up at the bar earlier, and when you pause in taking a sip of water to give him a sharp look, he clears his throat and corrects, "I mean, I've been cutting back, too. Just hard to stick to it…" when your gaze softens and you nod before taking a sip from the glass, he adds, "I quit smoking."

Surprised, you cup the glass in both hands, resting them over your tucked knees. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Haven't broken down and had a cigarette since before Christmas," he remarks before taking a sip of his whiskey.

You nod, smile reserved as you place the glass down so you can cross your legs, pretending you're not teeming with frenetic nerves.

Javi knows it. He knows your guard is all the way up, and you can't just turn that part of yourself off. Not when you're trying to protect yourself and keep any perceived threat locked away from the fragile parts you can't keep compartmentalized and detached from.

So, after swallowing the rest of the whiskey in his glass, he sets it on the table while it burns down into his gut and gives him the courage needed to step into the lion's den.

"Celina…I don't know what to say. Where to even start," Javi rushes out, leaning forward to pleadingly look you in the eyes. "Everything that happened – I never meant for you to get caught up in it. I—it fucking kills me that I hurt you. That you were stuck to deal with the fallout…thinking I just left and stayed gone. I'm sorry," he pauses when his voice begins to tremble, but at the way your eyes crinkle at the corners, he forges on, "I should've called. Should have told you I was coming back. I made so many mistakes, but the biggest one was not having the courage to tell you—"

"Javier."

He pauses then, brown eyes focusing intently on you when you sit forward and brace your hands to your forehead in a hassled manner, like you're desperately trying to collect yourself and not fly off the handle.

A tense few seconds of silence pass, and just when you let out a heavy exhale, he expects you to finally lose your temper – to really let him have it. He ends up being surprised when you sigh and sit back to look at him.

"I can't lie to you. I was blindsided, and furious with you—with what you did and how you did it. I questioned everything you ever said…got upset with myself for ever believing anything you'd promised. But when I found out what really was going on? I felt lost," you're telling him, voice cracking before you divert your gaze away towards one of the windows across the way. When you feel like the tangle of emotion has dissipated, you continue in a hushed tone, "Everything that mattered – my work, my career at the embassy, all the hopes I had for my life. It all just fell apart. I felt like everything was a lie."

Javier watches your lashes flutter as you fight back the welling of tears, and is thunderstruck when you look over at him now with all the emotion in your wide, watery eyes when you wring your hands together and devastate him with the last thing that he'd ever expect you to say.

"It…It was the most scared I'd ever felt, and I felt so lost, and then I felt so guilty, because I realized that was how you must've felt."

Heat rises to your face as the emotion overcomes you, making you flustered and wanting to be far away from him – to not let him see you at the verge of falling apart.

"Querida—" Javi begins to croak hoarsely, but before he can move over to comfort you, you've grabbed your purse from the table and rushed to your feet to try and make a hasty exit.

"I'm sorry. I have to go—" you're in the middle of flustering out in a tremulous breath, when Javi gains on you and herds you away from the door to instead be tucked against him.

You flinch, recoiling away to stare up at him when he embraces you with his hand at the small of your back while he cups your cheek to swipe away the errant tear that escaped your eye.

"Please, mi amor. Don't go," he susurrates, heart aching when your breath stutters and more tears fall to roll down your cheeks. "I don't want you to ever feel guilty. Just—we can start over. Everything we wanted is still possible. I meant everything I said. I want it all, with you—"

Brow furrowing stubbornly, you wipe at your cheeks as you push away from him while you cut in, "What're you doing here, Javier?!" Anger welling up in your chest when he gives you a confused pout, you snap, "Why are you even here?!"

He realizes what you mean – what you're truly asking, which is, 'Why did you come to Puerto Rico?'

Staring at you intensely, he decides to go for broke while warring with the impulse to just wrap you up in his arms.

"I came here for you."

Astonished, you stare at him like your incredulous mind is trying to decipher his true motives – to detect the lie.

So, with an assertive tone, Javi declares, "I went back to Colombia. You'd already left – had moved out of your place, and no one had heard from you since you'd left your cousin's, and they didn't have a way to get in contact with you. Fucking months went by, then Steve gets the job here, sees you're working at the Federal building. The moment he told me…the moment I knew? I made the call to take the job here the next day."

When you still, purse clutched in your hand as you stare in stunned disbelief, Javi slips his palms around your hips to hold you close. "I came here to be with you, Celina. I don't give a fuck about the job. If you want, I'll quit tomorrow," he grouses, tone becoming velvet over steel as he adds emphatically, "I'll do whatever you want, go wherever you want – do whatever you need me to do to prove you can trust me. All that matters to me, is you."

Speechless, you stare into his soulful, dark chocolate eyes in the lowlight of the entry by his front door.

The weight of it all steals your breath, and before you've stopped it, the walls within you come crashing down.

Dropping your purse to the floor, you toss your arms around his shoulders and kiss him.

Love-struck, Javi groans a yearning sound as he pulls you into him and kisses you with sheer hunger, mouth claiming yours while his hands grip you against him to pin you to the wall so he can hike your dress up and you can wrap your legs around his waist.

Feeling the urgent press of his arousal seeking the heat between your thighs after so long has you shivering and mewling, heat rising to the apples of your cheeks as Javi trails possessive kisses from your mouth down to your jaw before grazing his hot mouth against your pulse.

"Wanted this. Wanted to pick you up and feel you against me," he growls as he worships a scintillating path down your neck to the swell of your breasts that're pushed together from how desperately you're clinging to his shoulders. "You had to wear this sexy fucking dress—"

"Javi," you gasp when he grinds his clothed erection against your core, which makes your pulse throb in your clit and arousal drench your panties.

"Fuck, I need to taste you, baby," he husks as he adjusts you back onto your wobbly tippytoes in the heels before he fondles a needy path down your curves and drops onto his knees before you.

"W-Wait, Javi," you stammer in a panting whine when his hands eagerly slip up your thighs to push your dress up so he can reach the waistband of your panties and pull them down your hips. When he halts in the task and stares up at you with those puppy eyes, you fluster, "I—It's been a while for me."

He looks surprised, which for some reason instigates a scalding wave of annoyance that has you snippily scoffing and snapping, "What?! You might've spent all fall and winter fucking your way through all the girls back in Laredo, but I haven't been with anyone! Not that I'm obligated to say if I've been with anyone else. Knowing you, though? You probably screwed your new office assistant here too already, huh?"

Javi snorts contrarily at the accusations before running his hand testily through his hair, gripping the tufting curls at his crown with a snarl. "Not in the least, querida. I haven't been with anyone," is his impassive grumble. When you don't seem convinced and your pursed lips sneer dubiously at him, he drawls, "Nope. All I've done is jerk off like a fiend. Probably have the lady at the drugstore back home thinking I'm a fucking creep with how much tissue and KY Jelly I go through—"

You snicker and stifle a giggle into the back of your hand as you deride, "Ay, por favor, like you didn't do that while we were together anyway. Even if it bothered me, there's no point in fibbing—"

He gives you a narrow stare as he grouses, "I'm not. And fine, I'm always hard up, but I'm serious. All I want is you, and it wouldn't matter if you're seeing someone else—"

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't care?" is your challenging question, adding, "You really wouldn't be bothered if I've been with another guy? If I was seeing someone? Your track record would say otherwise—"

Hands firmly sculpting back up your dress to pointedly press your hips against the wall, Javi pins you in place with his smoldering stare as he starts to tug your panties down while he rumbles hotly in response, "Yeah, well, I wouldn't care if you were with every asshole I saw leering at you today. Hell, even if you were with that prick with the beard. Because right now, all I care about is that you're with me now, and all I wanna do right now, is eat this pussy until you come on my tongue."

An excited shiver courses through you as if you were a tuning fork that had just been struck. It buzzes into your core and sets cloying desire to tingle into the clutch of your now tingling cunt, making all sass and snark scatter in your mind as you watch him peel your panties down your legs before he helps you remove the sullied garment, then takes your heels off for you.

"This fucking dress," Javi gravels in a thick husk, almost reverently as he pushes the hem up to expose your thighs before he presses worshipful kisses along the smooth expanse of skin. "I've fantasized about you in this dress for months—"

"R-Really?" you simper, but end up hiccupping a breathy sound when he finally makes it to your mound and nuzzles into you.

He feels arousal throb beseechingly through him at the heavenly perfume of your womanhood he's been missing for months, the panties he'd swiped being a poor substitute to the real thing. The heat and headiness of nosing the soft curls of your mons and feeling your warm skin diffuses a wave of comfort and want through him, making him hum covetously.

"I rented that movie a while back. Ever since, I pictured you in this dress, letting me do this," Javi tells you unabashedly as he shifts your leg over his shoulder so he can lick a luscious swipe up through your folds.

"Oh my god!"

The airy whine you let out is as rich as your divine scent, and just as sweet as tasting your wet pussy after so long.

You arch against the wall at a particularly lascivious lick that preceded him flicking the tip of his tongue in that libidinous way that melts your nerve endings down with pleasure. Alight from it, you mewl, "Javi!"when he presses his lips over your clit and groans, making you tingle and writhe as your toes curl from how amazing he's making you feel.

Hearing you say his name like this is a triumph. It's so overawing after so long without your grace and passion. He's painfully hard, cock throbbing with how worked up he's getting just from going down on you – convinced that if you so much as begged in that needy whine you let slip from your lips when you're close, that he might come in his pants.

When he draws circles over your clit with velvety undulations of his tongue, you keen and buck against his mouth, chasing bliss you've been starved of while Javi revels in having you again.

He feels your thighs quiver in his grip as you rock your pussy to ride the zeal of his mouth, completely enraptured by his ravenous desire.

So enraptured, in fact, that he's surprised when you mewl a reedy cry of pleasure and card your fingers desperately into his hair, tugging on the strands at his crown when he sucks on your clit and drives you into an incandescent orgasm.

He manages to keep you from folding over him when your legs give out, and when you exhale a ragged little flustered sound, he hums a soothing rumble as he licks your climax like it is rare honey that he doesn't want to miss a drop of. Then, he nuzzles a path up your body and affectionately crowds you so you can cling to his frame while you lull your head back along the wall as you regain your bearings.

Your eyes flutter when he admiringly brushes his fingertips along your flushed cheek before tucking some strands of hair from where they're clinging to the perspiration at your temple. And when the lustful haze clears from your vision, you see how handsome and pleased he is as he scrubs the back of his hand across his moustache all the way down to his chin while he gazes at you with something fiercely self-satisfied glinting in his dark brown eyes.

Javi is surprised when your brows knit together just before you grab the front of his shirt and yank him down to meet your possessive kiss. Floored, he goes to pin you against the wall, but instead you assertively redirect him backwards as you begin to tug at his shirt buttons.

"Mmph, querida—" he grunts in between the torrid making out while you maneuver him to backpedal to the living room.

When he backs into the side of the sofa, you silence his protest by shoving him backwards onto the cushy surface, thanks to the momentum of his knees catching on the plush curve of the armrest helping him topple with a grunt.

You clamber over it as well in order to hurriedly straddle his lap and hastily unbutton his shirt while you resume kissing him with passionate desire.

The tangy and whiskey flavor of his mouth has your head spinning as you tug his shirt open before kissing luscious fire down his neck and chest. As you do so, you let your eager hands wander down to his belt next. As they descend, you marvel at the differences in touching his torso now from the last time.

Javier's pectorals are firm and chiseled under your plush lips, and his torso was far more defined than you remember – abs etched and tummy taut so impressively that it was clear he hadn't been idle all the time back on the ranch. And when he hastily yanked his arms free from the shirt to shed the constrictive tightness of the fabric at his back being pinched into the couch, you internally swooned. The definition of his arms and the span of his shoulders had caught your eye earlier in the day, but to see him sans the suit now confirmed all your suspicions. There's no doubt…he's been working out.

You wanted to see the rest of him, so you kiss along his jaw as you swiftly unbuckled his belt and unfastened his light gray trousers.

His breath hitched when your touch skimmed over his clothed erection, making him squirm and arch under you as he simultaneously rushed to undo the sturdy, albeit delicate-feeling buttons at the front of your dress. You hum in approval and nuzzle that spot just under his jaw that makes him weak with need as you shift to straddle him while freeing his erection from its white cotton confines.

Jolting from the direct contact of your nimble touch over his throbbing cock, Javier stammers, "F-Fuck," and grips your waist.

You lean back to see he's unbuttoned the dress all the way down to where the belted waist stops and blocks further progress until it's undone, so you deftly shimmy your arms out of the sleeves and adjust the cant of your hips while you rush to unclasp the front closure of your nude-toned bra.

Enraptured by your toned physique and supple skin, Javi ends up staring at your perky tits and peaked nipples just as you straddle yourself right over his crotch and lean back down to kiss him torridly.

His scent is masculine and warm, with a hint of musk that clings to his skin, making you yearn to press your nose into his neck. Breathing him in after so long has you grazing your teeth over his pulse before suckling a possessive kiss into his skin.

Javi groans out, and it's so starved, that you undulate your hips over him before burying a hand into the back of his hair to guide him to meet your lips, kissing him with ravenous delight.

Oh fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck— he's gritting out in his head at how amazingly soft and warm you feel against his bare skin, getting flustered when you plant your palms over his broad chest and deepen the kiss with a lustful grind of your pussy against his hard-on. Truly, it's taking all of his control to not get overwhelmed and worked up while also staying grounded in the lustful desperation of being consumed in the tempestuous desire scintillating between you both.

You're unaware of how wound up he is, being completely out of practice in spotting the tells, and frankly too preoccupied with how good it feels to rub against his cock while your tongue licks against his in the torrid kiss.

Oh, dammit—forgot, I'm not on the pill! The worry flashes across your mind, and you groan frustratedly at it as you suckle on Javi's bottom lip before reluctantly breaking the kiss.

Panting against his jaw, you're just about to ask him if he has a condom, when Javi's breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens, and you finally notice how taut his pectorals are under your hands.

The groan you'd made was practically a starved whine to his aroused senses, and combined with how you pulled on his bottom lip? It made a spike of pleasure snap months of pent-up desire loose, and before he could rein it back, feeling the heat of your pussy rut flush against his cock had him overloading with hyper-sensational arousal. He couldn't stop it.

With a choked, harsh grunt, Javi ground out, "Oh fuck—!" before he stiffened under you and his hips arched involuntarily up, breath catching in his throat as he writhes against the uncontrollable jerks of his body blitzing out against his will.

You still against him and stifle a gasp at the feeling of warm fluid surging against your mound and inner thighs.

Javier's skin burns with a mortified flush that radiates up his neck and scalds his face as he clenches his jaw and swears wordlessly in flustered, embarrassed frustration.

Incredulous, you lean up from being prone over him and stare with disarmed awe down at him, as you murmur, "Did you just…come?"

The way he practically turns red in the face as he bashfully cups his hand over his eyes in shame while the other caresses nervously along the length of your thigh is all the answer you need, but Javi scrapes his thoughts together enough to grouse, "Jesus fucking Christ…"

It makes quite the sight for you. Muscles tense and sculpted, skin flushed hot with his embarrassment, full lips parted and panting raggedly, and his hand trembling on your thigh now. Well, I'll be damned…

"Huh. I guess you weren't lying, after all."

The saucy, silky drawl of your teasing statement was accompanied by you tracing the defined contour of his oblique to the flat of his taut abdomen in a soothing glide of your fingertips, while you also patted the hand that he has on your thigh placatingly as you sigh, "You could've given me a heads up—"

Gruffly, he lets out a surly scoff before exhaling and dragging his palm from his eyes up to his forehead and through his hair testily.

The sight of you naked from the waist up, with your hair tousled, and giving him a look that was sultry and provocative – albeit endearingly amused, was enough to make want simmer hotly through him all over again.

"Couldn't get in a word edgewise, not with the way you were kissing me—" is his surly grumble he trails off on when you cock your eyebrow sardonically at him.

The way he's scowling up at you now instigates you to goad him. "No need to be so ornery," is your faux-admonishing lilt as you showily sit up on your knees and remain straddling him while you busily tuck him back into his underwear and zip his trousers shut, then lift your sexy dress' skirt in order to flaunt the damp, sticky stains of his cum seeping into the light material before remarking, "Oh, well. You shouldn't have started something you couldn't finish – well, finish together, anyway—"

Smoldering from your teasing, Javi suddenly sits up and manhandles you against him before clambering off the sofa.

You yelp in surprise as you hastily wrap your legs around his waist and hook your grip to the back of his neck as he effortlessly carries you out of the living room to turn down a back hallway that leads to his bedside-lamp-lit bedroom.

"Who said we're finished?" he growls as he stalks into the large room, just before he tosses you onto his plush bed.

You let out an airy giggle as you land, but the way he looks at you while he rushes to get his clothes off makes a deviant thrill tickle down into your core and leaves you buzzing from the hot wave of arousal that tingles warmly into your pulsing cunt.

Javier sees your breath quicken from your excitement, so while he strips his undergarments off, he orders in a low octave, "I'm not finished with you, querida, so take that fucking dress off. Now."

Something depravedly gleeful curls free from you as you sit up and shake your head defiantly, giving him an exacting look, before you counter, "Come take it off of me."

That primal desire to dominate you burns a streak up through him at your words, so with his agile reflexes, he grabs your ankle and yanks you down the bed. You gasp out in excitement as he brusquely tugs the belt of your dress loose before working each of the asymmetrical placket's buttons undone with deft fingers, all while possessively kissing your breasts.

Neither of you care how sticky you are from the earlier snafu, and frankly, you're aching so bad for Javi to be inside you now that any and all thoughts from before are gone from your mind as you arch into his mouth when he sucks hard on your nipple.

He groans from your hands burying greedily into his hair while he moves to suckle on the other studded nub and discards your dress blindly to the floor behind him before he picks you up and climbs onto the bed with you.

"Nnngth!" you whimper when he nips lightly on your pebbled flesh before he lays you down on the bed and settles eagerly between your thighs.

The smoldering, molten look in his eyes as he gazes down at you in your nude glory makes you needy and bold, so you lean up to hook your hand to the back of his neck in order to tug him down to meet your yearning kiss and pull him to be on top of you. Feeling his broad frame and warm muscles press into you is rapturous, sheer bliss in of itself, and you relish how good it makes you feel.

Javi revels in it too, enjoying your supple form and passionate kiss as his hands fondle and caress your curves covetously.

When he slips his touch between your bodies to dip two fingers inside your wet pussy, you gasp into his mouth and arch, knees impulsively hiking up to clutch at his hips. The feeling is new but familiar all at once, thanks to how long you've been without him, and when his thick digits curl and brush that erogenous spot you can never reach with your own, you grip your fingers into his back and whimper for more.

The way your cheeks flush and your mouth falls open on a moan while your eyes flutter shut at him grinding the pad of his thumb over your hypersensitive bundle of pleasure is too much for him to linger in just touching you now. So, he recedes his fingers and quickly uses your arousal to slicken his ramrod erection before dragging the head of his cock through your drenched folds.

Feeling it notch at your dimpled entrance while his big hands scoop under you in order to hold you into alignment has your breath flitting out of you while you gaze lusciously up at him. His eyes are dark pools of coffee that glean an earthy cocoa from the shade-less table lamp that casts a yellow illumination in his bedroom, and for the first time in too long, you reach your fingertips to caress affectionately across his brow before you skim them up to his forehead to brush his long wisping curls back from his sweaty skin.

Javi lets out a soothed exhale as he bows his face to nuzzle you lovingly, and you savor it while you loop your arms around him to clutch at his back just before he thrusts into your clenching heat.

"Mmmph!" you whine, feeling your muscles protest and strain from the thick of him filling you in one fell swoop.

At your leg hiking up with a jerk from how hard you arched, Javi shifts to hook his arm under it while he slips his other hand to cradle the small of your back so he can adjust how deep the next thrust goes. He swears gruffly at how warm and tight you are when he sheaths to the hilt into you, groaning into your neck when your nails nip into his lower back.

"Feel so good…missed feeling you," Javi husks in a gravelly timbre before suckling kisses into your neck and up your jaw. "Gonna take it slow, preciosa."

You exhale a little mewl and grip your hands at his lats when he starts rocking slow and deep into you.

The way your silken walls flutter around his cock has him setting a toe-curling pace soon enough, though, and his mouth trailing delectable fire across your senses as he kisses you with hungry desperation has you enraptured.

The tempest of passion being spun up in you burns pleasure through you, making you moan, "Javi, p-please—need it," when he starts quickening his pace and letting the ferocity of his need amplify the pounding of his thrusts.

At your moan, he grunts possessively and shifts so he can hold you against the bed and really fuck you hard now.

The debauched sound of warm colliding flesh weaves around the squelching of him slamming through your drenched cunt and the buildup of your moans falling into rhythm now. Javi can feel how your thighs are beginning to tense and the way your walls are fluttering tighter around him, so he starts rutting against you every time he slams home, which causes his pubic bone to grind into your clit with just the perfect amount of pressure that wreaks pleasure through you.

"Ahh, Javi!" you cry out and writhe under him, hands clutching at his back just beneath his shoulder blades while your body bowls up into his as you fall apart from the blazing orgasm, gushing your climax so hard that Javi groans in accomplishment above you.

Watching you come enchants him, truly. He missed basking in your climax – how your features glow from exertion and bliss as he prolongs your pleasure. It's like an elixir for his parched soul, being able to drink in how beatific you become from his sinful triumph in making you reach rapture.

It makes him feel worthy once again.

You're a sweaty and warm panting heap when you come down from the aftershocks, eyes heavy as they stare up at the undulating ceiling fan you hadn't noticed before while Javi nuzzles into the crook of your neck and breathes in your heady perfume.

Once your pulse has calmed, your throbbing flesh feels how rock-hard he still is inside you.

Realizing this is what he meant about taking it slow, you kiss his shoulder before limberly hiking your legs up and pivoting to roll you both until you're able to straddle his hips while he stretches out under you with a flustered look on his handsome face.

"Cariño—" Javi begins to rumble when you roll your hips and undulate to grind down on his cock salaciously before squeezing your floor muscles around it. His hands grip your thighs as he arches and moans, "Dios mío, b-baby. Mmmph!"

His cock throbs inside of you as you start to ride him, and it feels so amazing that Javi's hands desperately snap up to hold onto your waist as you hum alluringly and rut down on him before clenching your sheath tight again.

The way he moans makes you feel alight and wound up now, so you hold onto his wrists and really start fucking yourself on his perfect shaft, feeling spun up by the power of dominating him and knowing how much he needs you to make him come.

"I want it, Javi. Give it to me," is your throaty purr as you plant your palms over his broad chest and squeeze his pectorals, earning a tight growl from him just before you order, "You're gonna come inside me this time, beautiful boy—"

"Oh Jesus Christ!" he groans, raunchily overcome by how fucking hot this is and how sexy you are, and how desired you make him feel.

However, he's unable to accept shooting his load again without making you come one more time.

So, he surprises you by shifting up to wrap his arms around you possessively before pivoting so that he's balanced up on his knees while his hands hold you to set a desperate, unabashed pace of fucking you. All you can do is blindly reach back to hold onto the top of his headboard for leverage as you rock roughly into him, other hand clinging to the back of his shoulder and neck as you both work each other into an incandescent passion, moaning and gasping, falling into the abandon of getting lost in coupling with fierce desire now.

Nothing matters but his pleasure. Nothing matters but your pleasure. The feeling of his hands caressing you like he's a sculptor working with clay. The feeling of your body undulating like a sinewy haven he's sinking deeper and deeper into.

All that matters is how you make each other feel right here and now.

And when you both reach the zenith of it all, you're flung off the precipice into soul-shattering delight together, climaxing and giving yourselves over to the wracking throes of achieving bliss with each other once more.

You wordlessly cry out as you come, and Javi husks a groan with you, bowing his head into your chest when he shudders and squeezes you close as he fucks his cum deep enough that you feel the decadent bloom of his seed filling you in the seat of your womb. The rapturous delight fills you both up, and you nuzzle kisses into his temple and cheek before he affectionately hums. He tilts his face up to rub his cheek against yours before his full, adoring lips kiss yours languidly while you both come down from the blissful high.

Javi leans back exhaustedly onto his haunches and pants raggedly when you loop your arms clumsily around his shoulders and slacken relaxedly in his embrace with a dreamy sigh.

Before he runs the risk of collapsing in a heavy heap on top of you, Javi lays you on the now rumpled bedding before kissing dotingly along your heated features, grunting approvingly when you hum softly and distractedly comb your fingers through the back of his sweaty hair.

Shifting up once he feels the last of his energy begin to fizzle out, Javi groans when he pulls out and watches your comingled climaxes honeying your now tender flesh before pearly rivulets weep free from your pussy. You shiver at the sensation and squeeze your warm, slick thighs together while you stretch out tiredly now just as he flops onto his back next to you.

There's a comfortable lull, where only the sound of the fan rotating at a low ambient hum while it undulates the cool night air in the room across your heated skin reins, whilst you both catch your breaths and lie in post-coital bliss.

Then, Javier breathes in a cleansing inhale before huffing it out in a sated exhale.

"Fuck…I could really go for a cigarette right now."

For whatever reason, his pleased and cool mutter bursts the bubble.

Completely unaware, though, Javi leers sidelong at your bodacious form, cataloguing how tighter your tummy and more toned your arms are when you suddenly pull yourself up to sit with your knees tucked up against your chest.

Christ on the cross…you did it again. Just got right back into bed with him, is your recriminating sneer at yourself as you stare about his large bedroom.

Adjusting to lounge on his hip, propped up by his elbow, Javi gazes warmly at you, admiring how the yellow lamp light makes your dewy skin glow before he realizes your features are guarded – eyes faraway.

"Querida," he murmurs as he sidles closer and kisses your bare shoulder, which stirs you out of your self-reproachful thoughts to blink and glance meekly over at him now. Thinking you're getting skittish because of how raunchy you both are now after the salacious sex, he quickly mutters, "Be right back," before rushing off the bed to the bathroom entry adjacent his side of the bed. The sound of the sink running, then the wringing of a towel precedes him coming back into the room in his nude glory before he flops back down onto the bed with you.

However, before he can cozy up to you with it, you snatch the washcloth from him, scamper to the foot of the bed, sweep up your discarded dress and then scurry into his bathroom, before clicking the door shut.

Bemused, Javi is slow to realize what's happening. Shit. Shit-shit-shit!

Hurrying to grab a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase, he pulls them on as he hastily rushes out of the bedroom to intercept you as you make your exit out of the bathroom's hallway door.

You've just turned the corner and rushed to the living room while you swiftly buckled the satin belt of your dress when you hear his footfalls, so you retrieve your bra and speedily yank it on to fasten it shut before you shove your arms into the sleeves and rapidly work the buttons up the placket shut as you sprint to the entry to get your panties, heels, and purse left discarded on the terrazzo floor.

"Celina, wait!"

Javi's gained on you before you were able to get to the front door.

Shrugging away when he tries to herd you back to the living room with him, you sigh, "Javier, I have to go—"

"C'mon, don't leave like this," he coaxes as he loops his arms around your waist and gives you a plaintive look. When you relent and just fidget from one foot to the other, diverting your gaze from his, he assures, "You can tell me exactly everything you want to say. Yell at me. Curse me out and tell me exactly how fucking stupid I was. I know I was, but if you need to get anything off your chest, you can. I want to hear you—want you to feel heard. Anything you need, I'll do it. I want to earn your trust back, corazón. You don't have to go—"

"I can't do this again, Javier."

Frowning, he lets you wriggle from his embrace so you can yank your panties on and shimmy them up under your dress before you slip your heels onto your feet.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. Shouldn't have kissed you or gotten so carried away—" you're muttering as you adjust your dress, when your rambling lamentation skids to a halt from how he puts his hand over the one you'd been scooping up your purse with from where you'd set it on the adjacent bar top counter.

"This is not like last time," Javier vehemently declares, eyes molten with his conviction when you stare up with disarmed surprise at him. "I know I've fucked up enough times now that you'd be justified in never forgiving me, but I need you to know how much what we had mattered to me. How it still matters to me. You're everything I want, so…I'll wait as long as I have to, until you're ready," he professes, other hand coming up to caress your cheek as he begins to husk, "Celina, I love—"

Your eyes sharpen as you shake your head and take a step back, dismissing, "No, please, don't. I don't wanna hear that, Javier. I-I can't hear any of that right now." I can't fall back into this and get stuck in the vicious cycle again—

At seeing how your words wound him and earn a woeful frown to etch his features, your heart aches, and you can't help scoff at yourself before amending, "I just need time to think about everything."

Javi exhales, reluctant, but nods in appeasement before insisting, "Ok, but you don't have to run off from me, you know—"

"Javier. I got the news you were not only back at the DEA, but assigned as the Special Agent in-Charge here all at the same time, then had to go into a meeting with you looking fresh as a fucking daisy and I couldn't run up and punch you like I wanted to. Then, you followed me around that godforsaken stupid event like a persistent puppy, accosted me in the parking lot with your proclamations, and just fucked me silly after throwing me in a whirlwind about what happened almost half a year ago! I think I'm entitled to run off and regroup on how I feel," is your imperious harangue, hands snapping to your hips as you impatiently glare at his stunned, dopey look before you deadpan exactingly, "Fair?"

Jesus, when she puts it like that…

"Yeah, that's fair," he concedes and crosses his brawny arms over his chest, then grumbles glibly, "You skipped the part about slapping the shit out of me—"

"Yeah, well, I apologized for that, you jodón," is your snarky sneer as you eye him stubbornly while you watch that sly smile tug across his full lips, making it clear he'd just been goading you. With a huff, you dismissively grab your purse now, and turn to amble off to the door as you gripe, "Ugh, you're fucking incorrigible—"

His hand gets to the door handle before yours, but this time, it's to chivalrously open it for you.

"I can't help it. Not when you look so sexy when you're sassing me," Javi drawls in that velvety timbre that makes heat zing through your sore muscles.

Wryly, you roll your eyes, and are about to just walk out, but then you pause, turn to him, and kiss him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Peña," is your silky murmur, enjoying how his expression softens with a doting smile.

"You too, Reinosa," is his warm chuckle.

Snickering, you turn to exit out to the cool night air and strut down the wet walkway, but pause halfway when Javi calls out, "Hey." You turn and raise your brows curiously, so he smirks and purrs, "Since you're in that dress, you gotta say the line." The girlish scoff you let out is irreverent and punctuates the amused way you roll your eyes, so Javi needles, "C'mon. You just gotta."

Unable to help yourself, you put your hand at your hip and give his broad, muscular frame a once over before you toss your tousled hair sultrily. Then, with a bat of your lashes, you do your best Kathleen Turner impression as you smile and drawl, "You're not too smart, are yah? I like that in a man."

Javi grins so broadly that his boyish dimple appears in his cheek, and you shake your head amusedly before resuming walking to your car.

"Fuck me," Javi wistfully hums to himself as he watches you get in and smile at him from the driver's side window before you turn the car on and drive away.

He ends up locking up and going to bed hungry but satisfied as he stretches out in the nude under the ceiling fan, surrounded in the sheets and bedding that smell of you.

He sleeps so soundly in the sex-laced scent of his bed that he's startled groggily awake by the pounding knocks coming from the door that leads out to his open-air carport. Rolling clumsily to the side of the bed with the digital clock perched on the nightstand, he blearily sees it is almost 11am.

"Ah, shit…" he grumbles as he forces himself to sit up and crawl over to get his sweatpants on. A few minutes and more impatient knocks later, Javi lumbers tiredly to the door and unlocks it. "Alright, fuck. Lay off," he snaps as he opens the door for Steve before turning to stalk back and towards the kitchen. "I know, I know – I overslept. Just let me set the coffee to brew, then I'll go get ready—"

"Holy shit, Jav," is Steve's deriding scoff as he enters his partner's abode and sees the signs that he had company last night: The two crystal tumblers left on the living room's coffee table, glinting guiltily in the early afternoon sun coming from the window. "You don't have anyone back there, do you—?!"

"No," Javi snaps as he fills the coffee pot with water from the sink.

"Uh-huh," Steve deadpans as he surveys the scene, hands in his jean pockets and shoulders rolling back under his light blue polo shirt. "Guess you had fun at the party, then?"

Muttering under his breath, Javi sets the coffee maker to brew and walks around the counter to stride past Steve en route to the back hallway. "Quit fishin', hillbilly—"

"Just hurry up and shower the sex funk off yourself so we can go! I promised Connie we'd all go to Old San Juan for dinner tonight," Steve calls out after him as he lopes over to the sofa, but before he goes to sit on it, he cautiously eyes the cushions before shouting, "Did you already screw on the couch?"

"Fuck off, Steve!" is the response he gets before a bathroom door is slammed shut down the hall.

Deciding to play it safe, Steve sits in the opposite side chair and picks up the TV remote to check the weather forecast while he waits.

You, however, are relitigating the entire previous day's sequence of events as you lounge grumpily in your bubble bath, after having slept peacefully once you got home, and woke up feeling guilty about how good you felt when you shouldn't be already emotionally moving into the 'we're totally back together and going to make it work' phase.

Submerging under the suds, you hold your breath and let your mind clear. No more thinking about it.

Bobbing back up with a sigh, you lean back against the tub and continue to soak while you sulk.

…You didn't use any protection…

The anxious pang makes your pulse race for a few beats before you take a cleansing breath in, then let it out slowly through your mouth.

Once the warm water cools and the bubbles become frothy suds, you get out of the tub and get ready for your day.

The weekend comes and goes, and so does most of the work week without much fuss. In that time, you're busy overseeing a massive digital onboarding effort at the federal level while Javier hit the ground running on overseeing things – including one of the first coordinated task force raids.

It was a big operation that would involve hitting several puntos, or drug points, around the metropolitan area.

Steve had given him the lay of the land – shepherding Javi to all the notorious spots gangs operated out of, to where they'd likely distributed to local dealers from. Most of the targets were located in public housing divisions run by the local state, often located just a stone's throw away from the affluent sections of the capital and bustling tourist areas.

Reluctantly on Monday, Javi had met again with the rookie who'd been assigned driver duty for him. He didn't like the idea of not driving himself, but figured he had to deal with it in the interim.

The young cop was eager and jovial, always bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when he picked up Javier and escorted him to and from. Today was no different.

"Buen día, Agent Peña!" is the cheerful greeting he gets when he climbs into the unmarked Ford SUV police vehicle.

"'Morning," he greets, favorite aviators on and coffee thermos already going to his lips as he settles in. After taking a long sip, he placatingly makes conversation by asking, "Have any plans for the weekend?"

"Ah, yes! Me and my brothers are going to Vega Baja to la, eh, the beach?" the young officer parcels out in his rough English, dark expressive brows furrowing when he waffled on the right word.

"Kike, you can just stick to Spanish if it's easier," Javi assures in Spanish, smirking when the rookie pouts.

Unlike his usual custom of being flippant and sarcastic towards his peers, and straight up standoffish and aloof with his subordinates, Javier didn't have it in his heart to quash the exuberant, albeit excitable energy from the scrappy-yet-jovial rookie. Sure, his enthusiasm had been a bit disarming the first time they'd met – "Hello Agent Peña! I am Enrique Torres, but my friends call me Kike. Eso es Ki like 'Key' y Ke como 'Keh', so Keykeh!" – but the more the kid persisted with his fastidiously congenial greetings and intrepid efforts to engage Javier in conversation, the more he wore him down into friendliness.

"No, sir! I want to get my English better," Kike insists, nodding curtly as he drives. "But thank you, sir."

"Alright. So Vega Baja has nice beaches, then?"

"Yes, sir! Very nice. All Puerto Rico has great beaches, but we go to Vega Baja for the food too," the brown eyed man with the dark curly-hair explains as he navigates the traffic expertly, not even batting an eye at drivers who cut in and out of lanes without putting a turn signal on or really following the norms of the road. "There is a great kiosko we go to for frituras en La Boca you should try!"

Javi lets out a humored grunt before asking, "Where would you go if you wanted to take someone out?"

"Ah, depends on how nice you want," Kike muses, navigating towards the entry to their destination. "If you want to dance? Plenty of clubs in Isla Verde. A nice dinner? Anywhere in Hato Rey or El Condado."

Javi sets his thermos in the cup holder within the center console so he can pull out the map from the glove compartment and visually assess all the areas he's mentioning. "What about somewhere nice that's right on the beach?" is his query as he traces the map with his finger along the metropolitan area's coastline.

"You got a hot date, Agent Peña?" Kike cheers in his goading tenor, brows bouncing conspiratorially at Javier in such a way that he snorts and shakes his head at the kid. "Bueno, there are nice places in Dorado, but not really right on the beach. Most places on the beach are chinchorros—"

"What's a 'chinchorro'?" Javi asks, internally bewildered once again by another colloquial term he's never heard of. He'd had to learn so many terms, sayings, turns of phrase, and coded slang in Colombia, but a lot of it luckily resembled things he'd grown up hearing amongst his Mexican and Tejano friends. But there was a lot of Puerto Rican-isms he'd never heard of before, and selfishly, he wanted to be friendly with Kike so he'd have a go-to translator for all of it. Among other very useful reasons he'd found for keeping the kid around.

"Eh, it's like, como se dice…a shack? No, like a kiosko that is rustic and not very fancy, you know? Those are on the beach, and most people go to drink and eat for a little bit. A pitstop?" Kike strings together, and when Javi just gives him a deadpan stare, he huffs and says in Spanish, "It's where you'd go on the weekend to shoot the shit with friends over appetizers, have drinks, dance, and head back on the road to try the next spot. There are a ton of spots like that in Loíza. Some are made of cement and have balconies or terraces that overlook the beach, though."

Nodding, Javi wonders whether you'd ever want to go with him.

When Kike finally pulls up to the barracks, he parks and joins Javier on the impromptu training exercise he was about to watch the Comandante of the municipality oversee.

As he approaches the area of the barracks where field drills are run, he spots Duffy and Lopez already there, talking to one of the sergeants.

"Agent Peña, this guy is connected," Kike whispers to him as they approach. "Brother-in-law works in La Fortaleza."

Nodding, Javi approaches the group, getting prepared for quite a stressful day.

You, on the other hand, are just getting out of the shower after coming back from your early morning jog. Going into your bedroom to retrieve an outfit for the day, you let your mind reflect on the whirlwind of a week that had kept you preoccupied from thinking about what happened with Javier.

Tugging on your sleek navy trousers and tucking in the silky indigo blouse, you go to the dresser mirror and let down your hair from the bun in order to brush it out while you think. He's behaved. Hasn't dropped in or cajoled you into talking. Things here are not the same as the embassy, so it wouldn't be as taboo for people to know about us…if we wanted people to know, anyway. Well, know that we're back together...

Ellis had peppered you with questions when you'd gone over for dinner at his and Anita's place Saturday night, having let Zoraida know you would be having a lowkey night rather than going out with her and the girls, but you'd simply told him you needed time to process everything. That you had to reflect and recalibrate your thoughts towards the entire situation.

Sagely nodding, Ellis had hummed along, as if totally agreeing with you. And then he'd pulled out that morning's newspaper – which was already folded and tucked to the article that used a photo taken the night before – with a smug smile before drawling, "Well, this is definitely worth putting in a scrapbook, girlie."

The group shot was in black and white, but you could practically feel your umbrage all over again as you saw just how close you and Javi were standing from each other. He looked so freaking handsome though, so the outrage fizzled before it could really take hold.

Later that night, you'd been in your nightgown, sitting on your bed reading the article and trying not to let your gaze wander back to Javi in the photo, when your cell phone had rung on the nightstand next to you.

"—Ketsele! I just read your email. I'm packing a bag now and am on my way—"

"N-No, don't do that, Sasha! Everything is fine. I'm so sorry. I-I just needed to vent," you'd sat up and crisscrossed your legs as you explained, "When Ellis told me, I was so furious, that I needed to just write my rage out—"

"Ok, well, please tell me you stuck to just venting…?" Sasha had fished, voice a drawn-out question teeming with concern.

"…Not really," you'd sighed, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before divulging the entire sequence of events to him. Once you'd exhaled and slid down into your pillows huffily, you'd grumbled, "All right, let me have it…"

A terse pause had been your answer, until Sasha had dramatically sighed, "You love him."

It wasn't something you could deny. So, you didn't. And after discussing all your concerns, he'd told you quite earnestly, "Well, when I come back down to visit, if you haven't murdered him out of sheer exasperation already, I'll make sure to let him know I will make him disappear if he fucking hurts you again—"

"Oh stop," you chuckle dismissively before redirecting the conversation by inquiring how things were going with him, asking about Marc, and asking about how his father was doing.

Afterwards, you felt a little better.

Nevertheless, you still had so much swirling around in your mind, one none more pressing than a concern that you'd too quickly disregarded while blinded by your lust.

However, it hadn't been until the next day, when you were picking up a few things at the local El Amal to stock up on some pharmacy essentials, that you'd wandered down the feminine hygiene aisle and paused at the at-home pregnancy test section. Grabbing a few and tossing them into your basket, you recited a mantra to yourself from the time you left the drugstore to when you were pacing the length of the hallway, waiting for the time to elapse so you could check the results.

It's been months since you've menstruated, and it's unlikely anything would happen if you're not ovulating. This is just to be sure, and you're just being cautious.

It didn't ring true until you returned to the bathroom vanity, checked the test and saw that there was no blue line in the square window of the applicator. Not pregnant.

You'd breathed a sigh of relief, and stored the other two test kits in the towel closet's top shelf with the travel toiletry case and hand towels.

You're probably not able to get pregnant anyway, is your dour thought as you dab the spritz of perfume between your wrists and stare vacantly at yourself in the mirror now. Snapping out of your melancholic daze, you force yourself back into the closet to grab your black kitten heel pumps when three swift knocks sound loudly down the hall from your front door.

Perplexed, you check the time on the clock at your nightstand before rushing on bare tippy toes down to the door. You look through the peephole and let out the tense breath you'd been holding before you unlock the deadbolts.

When you open the door, your father stands tall and imposing while dressed fairly casual in his gray slacks and white guayabera. His leather shoes are polished and match his dark brown belt, and although he's not in uniform, his posture is still regal as if he were.

"Well, nice to see you're in one piece, niñita," he grumbles haughtily as his gaze hones in on you fighting the impulse to roll your eyes at him. "You never answered my message—"

"Pá, come in," you sigh as you stand on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek before ushering him through the threshold. "I won't even ask how you got in the complex without a key or security code—"

He surveys how nice and tidy your apartment is from the previous time that he'd visited as he states, "Oh, when you first moved in, I bribed the superintendent to give me the gate security code for the pedestrian entry."

Shaking your head, you close the door and eye him cynically. "Why am I not surprised…" is your deriding deadpan.

"Hm, this place has come far. You moved a few things around," he's remarking as he lopes around the open-concept space to look out at all the pretty potted plants on the balcony, glancing at the Laguna del Condado that makes up the greater part of your condo's northern view.

"Yes. The landlady took her dining room set up to Fort Lauderdale, so I moved the table and chairs that used to be here to where the dining table had been. I like it better. Lucked out with getting this place, and with nice furniture to boot," you're remarking as he strolls back over and hums a musing sound. "I'm sorry about not calling back. I've just been busy. I meant to call earlier this week, but it turned hectic," is your excuse now once he's glanced appraisingly down the hall towards the bedrooms and single bath, as if expecting a secret to reveal itself. He grunts neutrally in response to you, and strolls through the open space of your entry towards the tall kitchen counter. "I have some time before work. Would you like something to eat? Some coffee?"

Perking up a bit, he leans on the countertop. "Sure, if you're having something," he replies in his cool baritone, smiling when you waltz around into the kitchen to retrieve a clean cup before filling it with dark coffee from the cafetera. His eyes soften as he remarks, "That looks familiar."

Snickering, you place his cup on the counter before topping your mug from earlier with fresh café. "I prefer it over the newer machines. And it's better for brewing just a couple cups worth," is your retort as you set 'Buela's old coffee kettle to the back of the stove before you get a small pan out from the cupboard. As you seamlessly retrieve butter and two eggs from the fridge, you ask him over your shoulder, "How was your trip?"

He sits on one of the padded stools on the dining side of the counter top. As he does so, he notices the folded newspaper issue Ellis gave you left at the side of it, but glances over at your back after he's picked up the coffee cup while he answers smoothly, "It was fine. Nothing worth boring you with. I'd rather ask about you."

Humming, you crack the eggs into the now buttered and sizzling pan before discarding the shells into the trash and retrieving the salt, pepper, and cumin from the spice rack adjacent to the stove. "Oh? You really want to hear about 'all that computer crap' I do?" is your sarcastic musing as you sprinkle the salt and pepper onto the eggs before glancing over your shoulder when he grunts an unamused huff at you.

"I can always count on you remembering the littlest slight—" he begins to remark before noticing you're uncapping the cumin and now dusting just a smidge over the eggs. Expression relaxing into a charmed smile, he rumbles, "You remembered."

Tending to the eggs with a spatula, you turn sidelong and squint wryly at him. "Of course. I remember everything, just like someone else I know," is your chimed musing. "You're the only weirdo who likes cumin on his eggs," you teasingly snicker as you grab a plate in preparation to slide the entire serving onto it.

"No, you have the other half," he insists, so you serve only one egg and pass it over to him before placing the other on a similar plate. "Weirdo y que weirdo…" he grumbles comically as he takes a long drink of his coffee.

Chuckling, you gesture towards the small dining table in front of the balcony doors and suggest, "Go sit, those chairs are more comfortable. I'll bring the cubiertos."

A few minutes later, and you're both sitting at the small square glass table with the cushioned seated, wrought-iron dining chairs.

The moment should've been pleasant – a nice respite between similar people who are so much alike, that they rarely have moments where their similarities don't repel each other. But you sense he has an ulterior motive for dropping by, and he knows you're biding your time until he reveals it.

"This is delicious, tesoro."

"Thanks."

"I thought only a weirdo like me liked it with cumin, though," he jokes dryly before sipping his coffee.

"Unfortunately, I inherited your weirdo-ness, it seems," you drawl simply, then finish your last bite.

He chuckles before dabbing his mouth with his napkin, dark trim moustache impeccable as he gives you a wan smile now.

"So, I saw your picture in El Nuevo Día the other morning."

You pristinely dab your napkin at the corners of your lips while you hum in acknowledgement.

"You looked very nice. Albeit, a little preoccupied," he fishes inconspicuously, piercing gaze honing in on your expression now as you hum noncommittally. "I heard from one of the cabinet officials in the governor's office that the feds have sent down lots of new heads of agencies to take on the Mano Dura initiative," is his tactically questioning assertation. "Even implemented a last-minute shakeup in the DEA leadership down here—"

And there it is.

"Yes, they decided to have two SACs for the Caribbean division," you reply conversationally as you sit back in your chair and finish your coffee before placing the empty mug down with a clank on the glass table, drawling, "But you already knew that."

Grunting evenly, your father crosses his arms and stares you down now.

"Should I be concerned that this agent – Peña – was resurrected from the DEA self-sabotage trench he threw himself in, to come down here, after everything?"

His assertive question is teeming with displeasure, but he's trying to keep reserved; to appear unruffled, but the accusatory edge still bleeds through to you.

Giving him an aloof smile, you query, "Let me guess: You invited the official out for a round of golf so you could interrogate him? I hope you didn't forfeit your handicap for the intel—"

"I don't like your frivolous tone, Celina," your father mutters in a mild baritone as his arms tighten with impatience across his barrel chest. When you defiantly stare at him, he exhales his terse energy, then amends his tone by evenly explaining, "I did not ask too many questions then, because I wanted to respect your privacy, and knew how important to you it must've been for you to reach out to me for help in the first place. But that doesn't mean I didn't have him looked into—"

"Pá," you draw warningly, eyes narrowing now as you slap your napkin down on your empty plate. "You had no right—"

Assertively, your father leans forward and braces his big hands around the corners of the table in order to quell his temper as he grounds out firmly, "You are my only child. And no matter how much you don't believe it, I love you with all my heart. Your happiness and safety are important to me, and the fact both were compromised by that man—"

"Is absolutely inaccurate! And even if it was, it's none of your concern," you exclaim forcefully and push your chair back in order to swiftly snatch the dishes and utensils up so you can busily march them back to the kitchen to place them in the sink with a clatter. "You cannot use sentiment to guilt me into telling you any more than what I've chosen to confide with you!" is your berating remark as you turn back to see that he's followed after you and is now glowering at you from the front of the tall kitchen counter, which pits you both literally on opposite sides.

He sees how angry you're getting, so he sets his jaw and shakes his head ruefully before quelling his impatience, and pressing, "Mija, I'm really trying here. But this?" he emphasizes when he picks up the newspaper and holds up the section it's already folded into, which displays the photograph from the ballroom – where you and Javi are just shy of being near one another – before continuing, "It concerns me. I don't want you ending up collateral damage—"

"You mean you don't want my name out there reflecting negatively back on you," is your bitter charge as you cross your arms and stubbornly stare him down.

You're surprised when the wind goes out of his sails at your accusation.

He tosses the newspaper onto the counter and stares openly at you before contending, "Celina. I was wrong for having said that to you before. I let my anger get the better of me, and was callous. But I do not want history to repeat itself. We lost so much time…I lost too much time for letting my disdain for what happened cloud what really mattered."

Fighting the tremble of your lip as he stirs deep emotions to rise up in you from how earnest he's being, you walk around the kitchen counter and go to him, surprising him when you loop your arms around to hug him with genuine feeling.

"Javier is not responsible for what happened to me. All he ever did was go out of his way for me – protected and respected me like no one else ever has. I—" you pause your hushed assertion when your voice cracks, and once you've cleared the lump from your throat, you assure, "He isn't someone you need to be concerned about, so please don't go after him."

Your father exhales noisily as he holds you tight and kisses the top of your head.

"Is he here for you?"

"Dad. Please, just…don't worry, alright?"

Sighing, he decides to let the topic go…for now.

"I should get going," is his grumble as he steps back and kisses you on the cheek before heading to the front door. "I'll be on the island for a bit, so maybe you can come to the house for dinner? I could have the chef make whatever you'd like—"

"So Camille is around, then?" you mutter as you accompany him, raising your brows acerbically when he pauses at the open door. "I'd rather just come over when she's not around—"

He grunts in disapproval, but answers, "We can coordinate something around when she goes to visit her sister, perhaps."

Appeased, you smile and hug him goodbye as you retort, "Ok, then maybe I can do a Colombian night? Cook everything I miss and that you like?"

"Pandebonos, even?" your father asks, and perks up when you nod smugly. "Your abuela made them the best."

Agreeing, you smile when he kisses your cheek again, and promises to call to let you know a day that will work out.

Before your father is able to stride away towards the elevator that's around the bend in the open-aired corridor, you call out, "Pá." When he turns to look back at you inquisitively, you smile and tell him, "Te quiero."

Stern countenance softening with affection, he answers, "Te quiero mucho, tesoro," before continuing on his way.

You feel better once you've rushed back into the apartment to finish getting ready for work, and find yourself letting hope fill you up.

Everything you'd been keeping at bay seems less of a burden now, and as you drive to work, you allow yourself to be open to not having all the answers yet. Because even though you're ambivalent still, you are willing to let grudges go and feel your way through things. To drop your walls a little and allow yourself some grace.

Unaware of the whirlwind you were about the get swept into, or how much your life will change yet again from the series of tumultuous events to come, you set out on your day with a hopeful new outlook towards what's coming your way.

________________

Read Chapter 41: Enchantment

Spanish-English Glossary:

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Nena = Girl

Llámame = Call me

El Nuevo Día = One of the main newspapers in Puerto Rico

Damas y caballeros = Ladies and gentlemen

Muy bien, y gracias a todos = Very good, and thank you all

Una Cuba libre, por favor = A rum and coke, please

Puterías = Bullshit

Maldito mentiroso malparido = Damn liar motherfucker; equivalent to 'You fucking lying bastard'

Colmado = Small grocery store; corner store

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mi amor = My love

Ay, por favo = Oh, please

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Dios mío = My god

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Jodón = pain in the ass [male]

Buen día = Good morning; Good day

Eso es = That is

Y Ke como = And Ke as in

Bueno = Well

Como se dice = How do you say

Comandante = Commandant; Commander

La Fortaleza = The Puerto Rican Governor's office and mansion; aka 'The Puerto Rican White House'

Niñita = Little girl

Pá = Short for 'Papá' which means father, or poppa

Weirdo y que weirdo = Equivalent to muttering acerbically 'Calling me a weirdo'

Cubiertos = Napkins and utensils

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

'Buela = short for 'abuela', aka grandmother

Te quiero = I love you

Te quiero mucho, tesoro = I love you very much, darling

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

[circular-bircular]

I’m tired but this has been bothering us for a while now and I was hoping that you had some advice for us? a direction to head in? someone else to ask or refer to? or something I’m sorry.

We have thought we were endogenic for maybe a little less than a year now but recently we’ve started to question it and believe our experiences may match up with osdd. As much as it matches up though we are struggling to accept the possibility of having the trauma for something like that. It just feels so hard to believe and every time we think about really considering that we may have osdd we fall into denial about it due to having so little knowledge of any trauma.

I guess I’m asking if you have any way to accept that while not knowing. We don’t have access to therapy right now and I don’t think we should go searching for it if it’s there right now so I don’t really know what to do. That or any other advice about where to go from here would be really helpful but if you don’t have any or don’t want to answer this that’s fine, I’m just not sure where to go.

Thank you for reading through all this if you did, and I hope you have a good day/night.

Hey there! Not sure if I'm the best "advice alter" out there, but... Idk. I wanna help you, bud.

First -- I'm proud of you for trying to work out more about yourself. That shit's hard. Regardless of what you discover, you should be proud of your efforts and the work you've put in to figure stuff out.

Second -- I might actually be a great system to come to, because I accepted I had DID before I accepted I had trauma. To be real with you, I barely remembered trauma I had. I was the "my mom yelled at me for playing video games" kid -- that was "my worst trauma" and clearly that's not enough, right??? (Wrong)

I think it's important to accept some facts, maybe not about yourself, but about trauma in general. I had to process these things myself, and that's what got me to accept that I had DID, even if I didn't know (or want to know) my trauma. They were:

A lot of things that I might not consider to be traumatic can absolutely be traumatic.

I experienced a lot as a kid, most of which I don't remember -- and that's okay.

It's possible the things I experienced may have been traumatic for me. That's okay.

I don't need to remember that trauma for my systemhood or disordered status to still be valid.

Boom.

You never actually need to know what trauma you went through, imo. I don't think that's an important part of healing for me. It happened naturally for me, via therapy (and I hope that's something you can access in the future, if that's the route you take for recovery!) but I don't consider it a requirement for functionality.

My suggestion for you right now: Work on finding help books for dissociation and trauma problems. Most of them will advice not to go digging for trauma, but give you ways to cope with your problems. For instance, I'm still trying to work on getting through Coping with Trauma Related Dissociation (though that book does suggest not reading through it if you aren't in therapy currently). But resources on just regulation strategies and grounding could be incredibly beneficial for you. Maybe look into stuff about the Window of Tolerance while you're at it! That's really helped me.

Best of luck, okay Anon?

[multiplicity-positivity]

Can we get some positivity/advice for systems struggling to rebuild after one of the main fronters/hosts went dormant? They were doing too much and got overloaded and now we're not sure how to share their job, or what to do with all the trauma and emotions they were repressing for the rest of us. We keep having situations come up and not knowing how to handle them and then realizing they would've known. We miss them so much, they've been around for over a decade and now they're just not, and we're grieving. They setup a lot of plans to keep us going before they left, but we're not sure how to follow through on any of them. We miss them so much

Hi! We’re so sorry to hear that your system is struggling to keep it together after losing this headmate to dormancy. The good news is, they likely won’t be gone forever! We do know that this fact doesn’t really change much about your system’s immediate needs, though. We’ve written a positivity post for y’all, and it’s queued up for tomorrow night at 8:00PM EST!

As far as advice, here are some things we can offer which may help:

1) Come together with your system to make a comprehensive list of everything this headmate took care of when they were active. Once you have a list, try working together to see which headmates may be able to handle which tasks, duties, and obligations. You can break up big tasks into multiple smaller tasks if that could make things easier!

2) If you have commitments or obligations coming up which no member of your system feels equipped to handle, or that you all collectively cannot deal with, maybe see if it is something you could cancel or postpone. It’s okay to have to back out of previous arrangements, cancel plans, or adjust them accordingly so that your schedule is achievable for your system! If you have to cancel plans with someone who is not aware of your plurality, you can simply say “something came up,” or “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed/burnt out at the moment and have to cancel.” Both of these things are okay to do - you all need to focus on surviving and finding stability first and foremost!

3) When it comes to processing trauma and heavy emotions, we seriously recommend therapy. A therapist could likely help your whole system adjust to the loss of this headmate in many ways! If you don’t have access to a good therapist, we don’t recommend trying to work through and process trauma on your own. This may be painful to come to terms with, but it may be better to try and metaphorically box up your trauma until you’ve reached a better time to focus on working through it than force your system to come to terms with everything too soon.

WRT the above point, in the meantime, you can focus on learning grounding techniques to help yourselves when you’re experiencing a flashback or painful memory in order to calm down and orient yourselves in the present. We do have a post with a few grounding techniques that have been useful for our own system, which we’ll link here!

4) We do have a post on coping with the temporary loss of a headmate which may have some more beneficial information and tips for y’all. Here it is:

This post ^ has some ideas on how headmates can properly grieve, mourn, and process the loss of a headmate to dormancy, so we really encourage y’all to take a look!

We hope something we’ve shared here can prove useful for you all. And again, look out for that positivity post tomorrow night! Our deepest condolences go out to you and your whole system during this difficult time. We’re wishing y’all the very best and hope that you’re all able to effectively adjust to life without your former host. Don’t hesitate to reach out if we could be of any further assistance!

[denimbex1986]

'“The Giggle” has been. The outcome: Ncuti Gatwa IS the Doctor! AND David Tennant IS ALSO the Doctor!

Well, people said they wanted a multi-Doctor story, I guess.

So what’s happened, what does it mean, and will anyone ever get to read the original version of this article that I wrote in an extremely broad German accent?

In the final act of 60th anniversary special “The Giggle”, David Tennant’s Fourteenth Doctor was shot with a massive laser by The Toymaker (Neil Patrick Harris) and started to regenerate. However, the regeneration energy disappeared, and the Doctor asked his friends to pull. The Fifteenth Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) emerged as a new incarnation, leaving the Fourteenth alive and well and slightly confused. This is a ‘bigeneration’.

What the Flip Is a Bigeneration?

It’s apparently a Time Lord myth, and like many good Time Lord myths we’ve never heard of it before. It is essentially a regeneration where the old and new incarnation both survive to interact, the old one gets to grow old and – potentially – regenerate into the new one at a later date? Not 100% sure on that last bit, but it can be inferred from 15’s saying to 14 “I’m fine because you fix yourself”.

Showrunner Russell T Davies has suggested, in the commentary for this episode (available to stream on BBC iPlayer in the UK) that this concept might have spread throughout the history of the show, explaining fan theories such as the one surrounding Season 6B (the idea of 6B being that, after Patrick Troughton’s Second Doctor disappears into the void in “The War Games”, he doesn’t immediately regenerate into the Third, and ends up being used as an unofficial operative for shadowy Time Lord affairs – I know, imagine!). To be clear: this is not something Davies has confirmed for the future of the show, but it was mentioned as a possible way to have previous actors return to the role.

Is There a Precedent For This or What?

Absolutely not, no. However, there wasn’t a precedent for the first regeneration in 1966, which was a workaround prompted by the ill health of First Doctor actor William Hartnell, and fans eventually managed to cope with that one.

Two Doctors: No Peril?

Well, there wasn’t a huge amount of peril before, was there? Previously, the Doctor regenerated and we said goodbye to the old incarnation (barring multi-Doctor specials) and hello to the new. That’s still the case, really, so the actual threat level is pretty similar: we always know when a regeneration is coming so it’s not a huge surprise. The difference is that the previous incarnation is still cutting about somewhere.

What Does It All Mean for the Whoniverse?

Ah, I see you’ve adopted the official branding. Well, we don’t know the full ramifications yet. We don’t know if Ncuti Gatwa’s Fifteenth Doctor will regenerate or bigenerate. We don’t know if David Tennant is on speed dial for future series finales. What we know is there is potential here, and if we’re honest it could go either way.

Bigeneration felt like a farewell to Doctor Who (2005 – 2023). It needed a rest. The Fourteenth Doctor looked like an older Tenth Doctor, who brought down a government by saying “Don’t you think she looks tired?” in his first episode. Doctor Who (2023 – ) is still the Doctor Who that started in 1963 and restarted in 2005 (with a delightful barrage of references to demonstrate that), but it’s also a new start.

It’s quite a symbolic gesture to mark a significant change, which is a bold move given that the one thing Doctor Who fans cope with worse than change is symbolism.

The positives are the sense of closure it can give to the previous incarnation, who gets to hear the new one say “Don’t worry, I’ve got this”. There’s a support system in place, a reduction in post-regenerative trauma. The previous incarnations get to play their age in scenes like Tales from the TARDIS. There’s increased potential for stories. Also, if apparently set-in-stone aspects of the series can be challenged – and with the Time Lords currently dead again – who knows what that means for history?

But Does It Undermine Ncuti Gatwa’s Doctor?

Maybe. The worry is that – while the intention is for fans to fill in the deliberate (Curator-sized) gaps – the presence of past incarnations can loom over the current Doctor.

You remember the pressure on Matt Smith when he took over from David Tennant? That was without the in-story possibility of Tennant turning up again. Ncuti Gatwa is clearly positioned as a new start and the future in “The Giggle”, and the hope is clearly that the show will move forward and not have to look over its shoulder.

The expanded universe spin-off series that are expected to arrive will also provide a training ground for potential future showrunners. There’s clearly a plan in place to ensure that Doctor Who is a long-term concern.

However, we’ve just had the return of David Tennant and Catherine Tate as the Doctor and Donna. These characters are still around. We know that ‘Mad Aunty Mel’ (the returning Bonnie Langford, reprising her role as Mel after her brief two-series tenure as companion in the late Eighties) is back in Ncuti Gatwa’s first series, and surely the Fourteenth Doctor and Donna will be asked about.

Essentially we’re in new territory here, and at the start of something. Unlike “The Timeless Child”, which came in midway through Chris Chibnall’s time as showrunner, we know Ncuti Gatwa has at least two series to go and explore these ideas (as opposed to Chibnall having one COVID-abridged series in which to wrap everything up).

The gamble is whether or not folk will accept Gatwa as the Doctor to the extent that the past is remembered fondly and warmly but still very much considered The Past. The worry is, having brought Tennant and Tate back for these three specials and allowing them to be both nostalgia and a foundation, the audience that is brought with them pines for them in their absence. The new cast is haunted by the spectre of the old. Ncuti Gatwa’s era is hobbled by its opening gambit.

Or, alternatively, we might never hear about bigeneration ever again.

So There Might Be Absolutely Nothing to Worry About?

In the context of Doctor Who, ja.'